and I shall feel the flow
and know-
how things go in this world
I shall put my hand
to the ground
and know
the sound
how things go in in this world
and I will know
my time is short
here, on this earth
but yet, will understand, in this short time
for I know
each breath is…. measured
against time
until mine
runs out.
note: easily one of the best debut albums by any band in my lifetime, such as it is…
sun – fish
go – fish
self
magic… I made you think of a word that wasn’t there… just a little fun mental exercise on a friday before the storm comes huffin and a puffin…
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…
like a beautiful rare bird
you spy in your garden
you have a moment
where your eyes meet
not love at first-
just a moment,
but yet, as one dreams,
yearns,
becomes greedy of the heart
in no way earned-
you hope for that bird
every time
that you now enter the garden
and that is her.
even if for a brief moment, a minute, a pause, take the time to take in the wonders around you, they are there, perhaps even in looming shadow of the Verrazano Bridge…
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…
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.
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?
we all fall, we all fail, we all can rise…. that is all
if you know… you know, eric gales, that is all y’all
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…
