Are we always engaged in life… at our full ? potential? That is my goal (not that I am near reaching it), why not shoot for the moon, you can miss and only hit some random satellite, but you would still be in space, above the earth… but sometimes I feel like I am running in place. I try to remember I am fueled by optimism… and gifted with this life and this forum to share. but sometimes…
I sleep, some nights
clock forward chiming
haunting in this
music… one of my all time faves… (a 2fer tonight!)
I can pretty much guaranty you never heard anything like this, canadian pop/prog, this album was a total curve-ball, so I totally dug it, stick with the songs, listen to the chorus and lyrics… from a guitar perspective Piggy (RIP) always had his own thing going on, I regret not seeing them 4000 times more than I did, at least I did see them live though in my live.
And thanks to you, if you read any of this. because… there is value in throwing yourself out there into the world, you never know what she will return…
Notes… I reference a quantum star (aka naked singularity), so I am playing with some concepts there (science, time and gravity). but even such magnificent stars have a lifespan as us all, but my short eternity will be hers, because that is all I know.
Stephen Marley was supposed to play tonight in NYC.. and I surely wanted to go before snowmaggedon hit us… 555 accidents reported in NJ to the state police in the first 2 hours of the storm… insane, I actually stayed at my office in Hackensack until 9 (I snuck out down the street (on foot sorry for the poor bastards stuck in their cars – been there) with a coworker for some Cubby’s which made all the difference tonight)… all that said it still took me until 11 to get home, I’m beat man… hope you like the post, if not, I’ll suck it up and come up with something better (well… hopefully but I am an optimist after all). And if you read all this ramble, hey, thanks (pretending to shake your hand, or tip my cap, or raise my glass, or sacrifice a live goat.. woah.. calm down now…)
Experience first light in scientist cliffs, maryland… as I saw it a few days ago… I was staying up on the cliffs about 200 feet above the beach… the sun rises up over the bay, slowly, calmly, the waves are beneath, waiting… put it full screen and breath… and then click to look…
I am by no means a morning person, heck, look at my post times, but that said I made a point to wake up and crawl out into the cold (OK, only 40s), but it was an effort, this just shows me everything, it encompasses everything, it is the why I return to this spot every year, if only for a week, I do consider myself lucky to be able to do so, sure there are tropical paradises all over the world, but this is a mere 4 hour drive from me… and besides that I firmly believe in finding beauty wherever you may go…
If you like my posts, let me know, engage and enrage… or post something nice, maybe you don’t blog, or maybe you do ? I would love to hear from you. thanks … in advance and if you don’t react, well… I forgive you (just this once ya know)…
like a bee
that with your sting
you had died
I might be satisfied
but your venom remains
poison in these veins
for all time.
notes… not sure why these words came to me (but they surely did), I was stuck in horrendous traffic this morning to work (2 hours to go 26 miles), so maybe that was the venom, the title is a play on the phrase anaphylactic shock which occurs if you are allergic to bee stings, sure, I could have just hidden that and let a few people catch it… maybe if I had 50,000 followers I might do that, but at this point I am the flower, and you are my pollen spreader, so in the interest of well… interest, I post as such.
I updated yesterday’s post “earl of hippity hop” with an addendum I thought was clever, hopefully you will to (scroll to the bottom unless you have not read the whole piece, shame on you), if not, I guess you will be let down, but hey, this is free content so cut me some slack…
I also altered the other yesterday post “US” a little
listen, I write this stuff off the cuff, that earl post was based on one line I wrote down and just did the rest off the top of my head with the idea leading the charge (although the story is absolutely true)
note… let me know if you get it (or how you get it), or if you read it different than how I wrote it, I am not you, I can’t be (that would be weird… c’mon now you are creeping me out), but I am curious how other people read this. there is a bunch of ways, is this a statement ? or a question ? or both…
Thoughts and cinnamon buns are appreciated. As well as follows (just not around my neighborhood, I would have to call the local authorities…)
Good evening (or other local time appropriate greeting for you), I bring you a true story, a tale, a hero’s fable (well… ok maybe not that nearly that fantastical), this ’tis the how and why I broke a bone, the only bone I’ve ever known to break in all these years sloshing about the deck of my titanic life (so far dodging the icebergs somehow, maybe global warming is a friend in port?), so, the first question you may ask (or I may imagine you may ask) or maybe the first question I think you should ask, “hey man, what in the world is a Hippity Hop ?” for those in the know this giant dog chew toy was a wonder of wonder in the youths of those children of the 80’s (of which I am an inducted member, maybe even an elder of same – at this point), but anyway, a hippity hop was a mode of transportation before the segway came about (or that information highway thing I have heard such things about), and like all things such modes of transport evolve, I quite imagine that perhaps they are outlawed now, especially given the story of horror I am to import (at great personal peril to my 10 story pride), but with a quick click through my local yellow pages, ahem, I mean search engine they most certainly do still exist (they did fancy them up a bit from the simple red/blue option I had), so basically you plant your butt on this oversized dodge-ball of a thing, grab the ring and then transmute yourself into some sort of kangaroo hybrid (sans pouch, and tail, at least in my case, that is), so yes, I did not have fruit ninja, or an ipod/pad/phone, all we had was … “i”… (and somehow we managed through the boredom, I suppose it is all relative as if I was born in the 1800s I might have been churning butter for fun…), so anyway, where the hell am I? where the hell was I? so… these lovely bouncing things… sure they were fun, but like their far distant cousin removed three times the lawn dart… there is danger lurking in the ramparts, unseen evil forces that can guide these seemingly harmless rubber rapscallions turning them into destructive ICBMs (individual contact bone missiles), so, maybe you see where I going, I am trying to drive and get my damn map app to work… so bear with me, the setup: I was a young lad once, only once, and my parents imprinted on me (ahem, demanded) that I need to be gainfully employed if I wanted to buy things, with, you know, that money stuff (the nerve of those abusers!), so at a very young age I got what jobs I could, for the scope of this story I will spare you the litany of things I did for money (geez, that sounds really dirty, but thankfully nothing of ill repute ever came upon my petute), so I took a job as a camp counselor at the local YMCA (actually a JCC that became a YMCA, but what’s the difference?), it was a simple lot really, just watch some 7 year olds for a few hours during the summer and make sure they didn’t get hurt or do anything incredibly stupid (because a 14 year old is certainly qualified, obviously), so all was good, the little demons, ahem, I mean angels were so well behaved that Alcatraz would probably not take them, nothing crazy but I lost count of the ripped shirts from the ole “pile on david” game that they so loved, that much I could handle, but then… always insidiously lurking in the shadows, so friendly looking, almost a bouncing emoji (before there were any)… those damn Hippity Hops, plotting, waiting for the moment, the overthrow, the rebellion, to unleash their unholy hell of bouncing rubber asunder upon my innocent frame… I must pause for a moment to gather my thoughts to clearly recount the trauma… one of our (and by our I mean my little brood of monsters) daily activities was hopping about the gym on (you guessed it) Hippity Hops, ok, no harm no foul, been there done that, and then, came the moment when the evil plan was hatched from their nascent idea egg, I was not paying much attention when it happened, I mean who would expect it? through a sheer act of possession one of my minion hopped off her hippity hop and grabbed the ring like some naturally gifted olympic hammer thrower, spinning round like a tempest, no, like a full on F-5 tornado, unleashing a rubber projectile in my direction without notice, in slow motion I watched as it bounded toward me, I thought nothing of it, not knowing the sheer force of evil behind the gentle looking rubber, I recall it bounced once with that signature true sound like when you perfectly kick a kickball in a game, that “thunk” (and the satisfying feel of your foot sinking into the thing as it recoils and explodes outward to the outfield), so I heard that sound briefly, this moment was the calm before the storm, as it were, with pure lion instinct I reached out to grab the until now innocuous bouncy thing of joy, and then… it happened, in that brief moment, the hop bounced in such a way, as if guided by the lord of darkness himself, up to my outstretched hand, and hit, as if in perfect measure and intent, my middle finger, the transfer of energy traveled down, into my palm and there found a home, at the time it did not seem like much, maybe a jammed finger ? which I had endured a thousand times in basketball, but ah hah, the hidden damage, I returned home in discomfort, but not knowing the damage done. fast forward 2 hours, my hand is a balloon, or more really a surgical glove looking appendage that someone pumped air into (too much air), at this point I had to enlist the parents (hey, I was 14, alright?), off to the local hospital type place (well, actual hospital), X-rays and the usual, my hand was broken, my heart was sunken, I was taken out by a hippity hop, a rubbery drive by by a 7 year old. my pride ? broken as well, my answer to those who asked about my cast? “you should’ve seen the other guy”
Moral of the story… they say the devil is in the details, I disagree, the devil is in the pigtails…
I appreciate all shares, follows, feedback and pies… well actually, I hate pies, my taste profile is bitter, sour and spicy flavors, so I appreciate pies of scorpion peppers and broccoli rabe.. um, ok, that’s gross most likely, I appreciate your eyes, on my words, that much is true, so… thank you.
winter is certainly more than a visitor now, the last heroes of the fall have succumb (even the stubborn ones), so many familiar things, I’m noticing, more these days, paying attention to the details (always the details), wading through piles of leaves, kicking up my feet, much like traipsing through the surf as I churn, that distinct sound – of the dry death in dry leaves, the sweet breath of decay suspended in the cold air, such a unique scent, like the blooming of flowers in spring, this is the signature of the fall, held so still around my ghostly breath, the flashes of red and yellow now turning into brown, and then near nothingness, dormant stars to hide in the earth, burying luminescence, life is retreating into a cocoon, we, the overseers, as it were, pursue – the vast importance of our daily lives, but at least the coming of the cranberry holiday can give us pause, to say thanks, and pause to look on the world’s comings and goings as a lesson, to hold on to the remains of a dying year, to remain to hold those we hold dear, and to remember above all, love is life – and we are alive, give thanks.
Literally first light, around 6:45am this morning in Scientist Cliffs, Maryland, of course my last day on vacay has the quintessential sunrise I am used to @ the cliffs, getting me up that early is a miracle on most days but I must admit I was energized seeing the sun rise up over the bay, I have video as well of the literal rising sun, post that tomorrow most likely, even in the burgeoning cold this was a sight to behold, and it sums up why I trek here year after year, not to sun worship on a beach, to see scenes like these, it reminds me of why life is worth living, even if alone (for now), how can such a site not make you know.
Part of being on the eastern coastal region of the US is the abundance of oysters, they were so populous back in the early days of our country that they were the street food of the day (check out this article about oysters and new york city), so I happen to love raw seafood, top necks (clams), oysters etc etc, I have been known to house a few dozen no problem (just ask Awful Arthurs, I think they got sick of me while I was in town), but in all my travels (OK, limited I have basically just gone up and down the east coast of the US) I have not seen the ritual of eating them with crackers (saltine type)… so, the bartender was rather amused with the idea of me trying oysters the southern maryland way, there is some disagreement though, there are two methods (so I was told – maybe they were messing with me which would be hilarious).
a) make a sandwich of sorts, oyster on cracker topped with raw horseradish and cocktail sauce
b) cracker crumbled on top of said oyster and horseradish/cocktail sauce
Both are anathema to how I enjoy my bivalves.. but heck, I’m game, so I ordered a 1/2 dozen (I was @ Stoney’s in Prince Frederick if you ever are here – GO, or order online, the crab cakes are divine), so…
a) made the sandwich, while being ogled by the bartender and her endless amusement at my proclaimed predicament, I guess I had to do this in one bite? so I did. artful ? probably not, graceful ? surely not. the cracker kind of soaked up the liqueur (which I want to taste) but also too much, it made my mouth a desert and kind of robbed the oyster of it’s full natural flavor, it kind of was like really good paper towels had sapped away all the moisture and I was only getting everything BUT the oyster, thumbs down, well, at least the bartender was amused by all my expressive facial expressions…
b) the crumble method… so I carefully selected one of the remaining oysters (I had cleansed my palette in between with a combination of oysters the way I like and some Goose IPA), I popped some raw horseradish on there, a quick squeeze of lemon, and a dollop of cocktail sauce… on that (blasphemy) I crumbled a full cracker’s worth of cracker on top… and popped it in the ole blow hole in the front of my face, OK, not bad, did not totally sap the oyster of what makes them great (IMO), it added a little texture to the mix, I could live with this version (IF I didn’t know any better)
Verdict? I still like to just scoop the suckers up, put a little cocktail sauce/horseradish on and chew ’em… I like to taste where they are from, word is that there was a good deal of rain this year in the bay (that might actually hurt the harvest) but that also decreases the salinity… I definitely noticed, these were super mild (and sweet). So, that is what my blog is today, no poetry, just a dissertation on local oysters and customs. Tomorrow I venture back to home, the murderer of dozens upon dozens of bivalves over the course of the week… if the mollusks ever take over, I am surely in trouble…