October Again

Last year at this time I played the October Game. What I tried to do was write a poem every day and post it to this blog. I did okay, creating, I think, 21 out of 31. This seemed pretty good to me, but as one of my friends pointed out, it wouldn't necessarily make for a very good batting average in baseball or field goal percentage in basketball. Still, I got a publication out of it. The poem "Columbus Day," written for October 12, was recently published in a journal called The Howl.

Last night I played a gig at Iron Horse Station in Hot Springs, North Carolina. It was a noisy restaurant, and few people seemed to be listening. But I had a table of the loyal right in front of me, which helped tremendously. They're lifesavers, but little by little I'm learning just to do my thing the way I ought to do it, without worrying about who's listening. I ended up with $45 in tips, so I guess some folks appreciate it.

Anyway, this morning I woke up with this haiku taking shape in my mind. I was thinking about the windy night I drove through to get us home after last night's gig. A haiku is maybe not the best omen for success to begin the October Game, but it's what I've got.

Night, windy with leaves--

filled with song and beer, I drive

through the dark mountains.

By the way, the guy from whom I got the idea of the October Game died this year. He was an artist, and he tried to create a piece of art—a drawing or a painting, I think—for every day in the month.