Memories of Adulthood

About the Book

If only people could be more like books. In that they would give the information we want to know without the information that will make us feel bad. There are so many perfect places to start that there is even no need to continue past this sentence. Anyway, thus saith a poet/punster/poopoo-er who keeps starting over, which is the nature of writing poetry.

The only art you can't do fast if you have to is poetry. It's God making us compulsive rhymers. Because God loves everyone. (We have to love the very same bastards.) Humans, however, have all the easy chores: poverty, crime, disease. God has the hard one: how to bring all people to get along together.

Poetry is not the same as lyrics. Poetry is simple self-love; lyrics, the poet wanting others to love, where words are made to sing without music. But submitting poetry is also the storm warning before rejection. Although just because one never finishes anything doesn't mean he shouldn't be starting things.

After all, what's the verb for what you do?

About the Author

JOEL ROSENBLUM was stamped at an early age as a genius but was mailed as an idiot. He spent his commerical life owning several radio stations and thus talking all day to a piece of metal. He insisted he'd never been aware that the microphone was actually plugged into anything.

When he retired to spend more time writing, he remarked, "You can't just suddenly not own a radio station. It all stays in your head, still playing out the music, saying the words that sell, supplying sound a choice between music and voice." His piano-playing began as an early talent which in time turned into a vice. His unsuspecting listeners all know what sadism is. However, to decry the neurotic is to share with him.

The internet was a natural addiction --another keyboard but with letters on the keys and an endless invitation to send out opinions and lyrics to countless unknowns. All the while, humor for him is the endless pursuit of the dead-on aphrodisiac. "You're only as old as the girl you feel." (Nevertheless, laughing at everything does clear the room of people not drunk.) Everytime he fell in love, a woman was mistaken again.

"foxtrot, ballet, shuffle, tap

just sit out this tango on my lap"