mind numb & realizations (rat race traffic tidings)

mind numb & realizations (rat race traffic tidings)

what year is this? that is called a rhetorical device, meant to ask you a question internally, with your voice, or with what you assume or presume to be my voice inside your head, that’s right, this is a conversation, essentially, words are heard even in print, but anyway, back to my original thought, I think traffic is my kryptonite, no, it most likely is, and also stupidity stacking, which seems normal here in new jersey when considering road work. the main thing is, even if you know what gnaws you down to a nub, can you avoid being ground down? it is like jousting except I do not have a lance, so I just pray I stay upright after I get smacked, ok, maybe that is a bit dramatic, I am known to have verbal flair after all, so, this am, my usual trek to work, all of 26 miles which takes a good hour here on the hallowed road known as the jersey turnpike, that’s fine, I am kind of used to that grind (crazy what passes as normal…), but then I arrive in the ‘sack (Hackensack)… (sack is a good name for the place, most of it is reminiscent of a sack of… well, it comes from a horse and it ain’t apples…), our lovely town benefactors are doing some sort of amorphous road work directly in front of my office, now… some signage would be nice… some sort of traffic direction perhaps? nah… I mean it is only 2026 here so I suppose I have to wait for flying cars and such before a little thing like… a sign… so that the whole traffic situation isn’t gnarled worse than melisandra’s true form, yes, a day can go from a red priestess you want to bed to instant flop, and today, was such a day, to compound things, the einsteins (clearly) that run such things pick a day where there is alternate parking… so, in a town where they keep banning parking more spots over the years, they conspire to make matters worse… yes, first world problem, I agree, but things that are clearly avoidable and/or ameliorated with simple gestures… well, rub a dub nub… not a good way to start the day, I try and paint on a smile, let coffee take me away like Calgon, but some days… well, Tuesday to be exact, I get my ass knocked off that horse via a lance of thousand punches, and fall, and it smells like a sack, or maybe shoe polish.

*postscript… of course there was a horrendous accident going home tonight on the GSP (garden state parkway)… I suppose the deity is aligned with the municipalities in these parts… and again… should there not be some signal that goes out to cars “hey. 3 lanes blocked 3 miles ahead, merge right”… we have the emergency broadcast system (which I have never heard a real emergency on…)… but not a simple alert/APP to handle that other obvious stuff… ? jeez… what a joke…

**postscript 2… I must have really pissed on the altar of all that controls minutia… this AM the Sack was still… a sack but I was blessed by a big rig hauling lumber cutting me off to my exit and then obscuring my view as a low boy with that kind of load on local streets kind of takes up a bit of space… I had to make an illegal u-turn just to park my car and be reasonably late to the office. Avoidable things… avoidable things… I just laughed this morning… as I can’t make up these dumb narratives but yet we are the rats on the wheel are we not?

**postscript 3… another massive accident on the GSP last night… I guess I can turn this into a bitchin’ about traffic log… I’d rather a yule log or a swiss log… but hey… we can’t always choose which logs we are stuck with, or that smack us in the noggin…

crucible

crucible

noun

  1. A vessel made of a refractory substance such as graphite or porcelain, used for melting and calcining materials at high temperatures.
  2. An extremely difficult experience or situation; a severe test or trial
  3. A place, time, or situation in which different social forces or intellectual influences come together and cause new developments.

The first is a clear (easy) metaphor, or perhaps the melting down of the next 2 to fit into one said vessel. The sea is not always calm, in fact most times not, there are storms and all in between, so cherish the times where the tide laps like a sleepy kitten and the vast reaches of molten water are like satin glass, where a pebble thrown births perfect circles outward from each other, pacing in uniform to the horizon…

how music is time travel…

how music is time travel…

from a super nintendo video game, yeah, call me a dork (or an old school gamer) but imagine hearing this for a few hours as you battle amazing imaginary things on your 16 bit console… it is lovely… and totally invokes the feel of the game and wonder… the whole soundtrack is amazing and has been re-recorded and done by an orchestra actually (as have many games such as Legend of Zelda)… so this is a thing… or I keep telling myself that…but ..music is time travel, it can take you back... to that time in your life… music is an amazing thing… birds do it, other animals … perhaps? maybe music is the real key to life.

our own making

our own making

where as I might delve
into my deepest thoughts
a cliff
of my own making (of course now)
but how to train
yourself
among your experience
had by none
except…
yourself
that is the conundrum
of these short times
our lives

so many billions born and die… and so on and so on… but yet we are all our own singularity, born only as the empty vessel with our own lens instead of the accumulated knowledge of so many ages… the strangeness is so strange to me, the universe is billions of years old, at least this one… (something had to exist before this did? or is this the first? can that be? so much to consider, leave it to a hawking I suppose) – does the every day person even consider such things? Do you?

fabric

fabric

for even the fabric of space
wears down
to even holes
someone has to repair
as the fabric grows
so very old

and when the garb
has been outgrown
a hand me down
to another space

a matter of cloth
as this fabric created
shall not be destroyed
but remade
for all-time’s sake

space is the fabric that holds us all, in life, death, in peril and love, the under pinning of it all, the pillar upon which we all – live, seems more than a flimsy hammock I think…

wolves

wolves

with what lies inside
is the same as wolves
all though we deny
what we know is true

and we say
and claim
that is what makes us human
before we make the kill
in our own way

no idea how the muse works, this just popped into my head, this is a total one take, I literally heard the words in my head and wrote them down… my old line, this is how I work, I don’t question it, I trust it sometimes… and sometimes not. so, here it is, I am my own mind… if you get it great, if not, fine enough, I post for me and if others understand, cool