my suburban jungle, the town of my birth, although the town I grew up in and knew has certainly grown larger through the years, still recognizable as the same animal as when I was a child, perhaps some of the habitat has changed, so, this is my domain, and surely I should know all the creatures great and small, human or otherwise, within my bubble safari, but alas, I have spent 48 hours romping in the wilds of new jersey, taking in those foreign sights, sounds, scents of another world not so far but far enough from familiar home, and now returned, sitting out here, I am finding the noise, the human traffic absurdly loud, a rattling diesel truck, a jet that seems to be roaring rumbling 10 feet above my head, various cars and their various escalation of rates of acceleration as the sound finally reaches me, bounces off and then Doppler effects me as they pass, the chatter on cellphones as others take their nightly walks, I have seen them all before, they seem like strangers masquerading as my neighbors, I don’t remember their manner being so distracting. can a mere 48 hours away have gone and transformed me into some feral new jersey man? nell jersey? (although my powers of speech and distinct joizee accent remain) I suppose it is all what you become accustomed to, acoustics, visualistic, olfaction, all those… the local mosquitoes are quite bothersome but not nearly compared to their giant cousins the unrelenting torrent of greenheads that ransacked my legs, I stroke my chin, damn, I need a shave, time to get back to this reality, this civilization, and readjust to the current situation, my re-urbanization, re-insertion into the matrix I am used to, knowing that some piece of me is still in there for the out there, wild, and ready to roam free, wild, feral, should the chance provide…
(of course this is part of my porch series, no cool remark tonight, just the post, disappointing? cool..)
I have been blogging (writing) about ‘unremarkable days’, how there is something to be found in them regardless of how ordinary they may seem, and surely those days outnumber the rest by a large margin, but today was one of those other days, the one where you can remove the “un” entirely, picture book clouds on perfect hand-picked blue print, the sun just quite hot enough as you teeter on the brink of sweat but the damn never breaks, and again, the clouds, not a one with ill intent or a portent to rain (not even a hint), just fluffy white dreams that steal your imagination with their shapes, the kind of day where just looking at the sky makes you smile and drift… I was even mired in hours of Sunday-to-home traffic from the shore, but it felt different, it felt OK and perhaps better, this is the type of day, the type of day that releases you from your daily lease, relief from the daily grind, your personal slate is wiped clean and you can just… be, in the moment, this moment, like experiencing a long slow deep breath from sunrise to sunset… Is this because I took a couple of days off to commune with nature? sure, could be, I believe in re-charging your batteries, I should just learn to take my advice more often… there is this strange exhaustion you feel when you vacation right, you aren’t quite tired or quite refreshed, but are, in both respects, you feel like you can take on the world or not have a care in it, a false premise of course, but I’ll take it in these moments, again, one of those things I wish I could bottle, or prescribe to myself and the world to ingest on a daily basis, but I suppose if it was all that easy, everything would be that easy, so I say to you (and me, by extension, as this is my voice here) go find ‘it’, try to find that thing that at once flushes your system out from the daily weight, sheds the chains, let’s you take flight, find out that which both exhausts you and in the same action re-energizes you, for this life, that is where I am at tonight, my dog, she does not seem impressed… but I can bribe her with peanut butter, so her vote doesn’t count…
Sometimes things align, and you just feel it in your bones, I stepped out of my usual routine and took a trip, a chance, this weekend (I usually work 6 days) and traveled not so far, in my own state, I literally pulled up a map and said “where haven’t I been?” Well, as it turns out, I have been missing out, the photo is the culmination of a day’s journey, it feels like a week, in a good way, I pit stopped in Absecon NJ as it would be a good jump off point to travel from (and being close to Atlantic City there are tons of hotel choices), the trip started off, um, not so well… driving from Hackensack to Absecon on a Friday night in the summer? yeah… probably not such a good idea but I was determined, hit some rain in the north but managed to make time south of home (Edison), in all I arrived around 9pm, tired but not wiped, and then the wait to check in, I figured there would be no one here, I was wrong, and to boot their reservation system had problems with online bookings… and sure, I had booked online… so after about a 20 minute wait I was panicking to find all my proof, the damn hotels.com app would not load, surely this was not a good sign, but… should I doubt, my reservation was fine, and I had wrapped myself in an anxiety pretzel for no reason (there might be a lesson in there), nice enough hotel, comfy king size bed into which I melted…
and the banging on the door, 8am, what the hell? I know I hung the do not disturb tag, but apparently in my tired blindness I had requested a maid… after hostage negotiations through the door we came to an understanding, understanding I put the wrong sign up, my bad, and back to sleep I was as I rarely get to sleep in and wanted to catch that extra wink before embarking on my exploration(s) I had planned for the day…
so a few weird dreams later I wake up, shower, and embark, off to Great Bay Wildlife Refuge, a large area of salt marshes connected by some rickety bridges and traffic lights that seem to be in the middle of nowhere, sweeping views, lots of shore birds, the sound of the wind on the reeds and grass, I’ll spare you the details but this is total zen for me, I drove all the way down as far as you can go, and hiked from there as far as you can go, and I did not learn my lesson about walking in crocs… not exactly the best footwear for long walks but great in the fact that who cares if they get muddy etc… fair trade off I guess. and then I visited Edwin Forsyth Wildlife Refuge which you can drive through, although I hopped out often for photos… so I walked a lot, and then drove … a bunch and walked some more. Both preserves were awesome, what a great day to visit, you could see Atlantic City in the distance like some weird metropolitan art skyline, my only complaint ? the damn greenies, damn they are persistent and vicious, greenies… are green headed flies and they bite… really bite, like draw blood bite, if you smack one at the right time (after it has fed) your hand is bloody, yeah… as fun as it sounds, you even smack them and they are still dug in and you have to pull them off, my legs look like they were hit by pre-pubescent acne, well.. at least they don’t itch as much as mosquito bites….
so that leads me to the photo, which was a night cap, the ending, I was the only “party of one” waiting for a table, Oyster Creek Bar and Restaurant, oddly enough it is on the edge of the very park I was routing around earlier (Edwin Forsyth Wildlife Refuge), this is a very Jersey experience, so visceral for me, this part of this jersey shore has such a distinct smell, it is like inherent to my instinct, I recognize it, it brings me back, it makes me feel at once like a child and at most immortal like time has stopped to make this perfect moment, this place is the type where you can stroll up in your boat, tie up and have some great food, mixed with regular folk looking for the same, but you are all right there on the precipice of where the food actually comes from, the sea, right there, the salt marsh is teeming with life, and tasty life, and then not so far off is the Atlantic ocean, you smell it all, the diesel, the semi sweet rot of a swamp, the salty air, the gentle aroma of wet wood, the short waves slowly lapping at the docks, the conversations you have had yourself, couples bringing their babies out for the first time, the families with their grandparents, the parties of nine, all of it, terrible chairs, red and white table cloths, local kids waiting out the shift, this is so familiar, so damn visceral, it makes me feel immediately comfortable, I could watch this all day… and night, but they just called my name, and damn I am hungry, hope it lives up to the hype, it probably will…
note: I am uploading a bunch of videos to my YouTube Channel, I finally got off my ass and learned how to use my ThiEYE cam
for I am witness to cleopatra’s tear to the mighty sword of genghis khan raindrops a map to the stars the night provides a canvas to the past of lives that are now ours and let the hours pass and eons slide from up upon plymouth rock and armstrong’s stride from the very emergence of humanity come forth african savanna a culmination a cauldron for we are all these children of the mother divine interpretation the mark of the father
notes… sometimes I ponder if the air I am breathing is the same air breathed by someone else, so long ago, we all have shared this space, this earth, our only home, as far as we know, so a single raindrop hit my windshield the other day, and as I like to say…. the words wrote themselves…
as much as I love rain, and thunderstorms (specifically), sometimes the wonder is shadowed over by angst or perhaps the persistence of the rain, driving in urban new jersey is perilous enough, throw in what looks like the contents of a washer on psycho spin cycle up against your windshield and even the staunchest optimist-acrat can become trodden down, last night was such one of these nights, no end to traffic in site, no accident on my side, not that I can see anyway, the whirring of flashing lights, ambulance, tow truck, fire truck, police, all speak to the seriousness of the wreck I can not even see, but in front is a winding river of endless angry red taillights, behind me a cauldron of various states of humanity, ranging from frustration, to anger, to the begrudging acceptance of fate, this night, a one hour drive stretches miles into two although the toll feels more like years shaved in-artfully off my soul, like a blunt object piercing my skull (think head butting a bowling ball, rinse, repeat), I should know better than succumb, but the seductive sirens sitting there on the concrete medians sing their song seducing, and lure me nearly into the rocks amidst this throng of mass humanity, somehow, by providence, sheer will, experience, and perhaps some blind luck I make it home without a scratch, aside from the aforementioned carved up and beaten about soul, I should know better, and have a firewall in place to brace for such equations, but sometimes 2+2 adds up to more than four, or my math skills have deteriorated past the point or no return, at least for now, I arrive in my driveway, did I mention I hate traffic?
Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com
so this brings me to this morning, nothing unusual there, the humidity is making my car sweat, or perhaps the rain when I slept, no matter, I pop my trunk and water runs out on my arm good enough to soak a sleeve, “ah, continuation” I think, and so it goes, on down the road, same lefts and rights and lights and cars, of course there is an accident by the on ramp, why wouldn’t there be? getting to work on time becomes more of a fantasy than concrete reality, just more salt in the old wound I suspect, and the trek, why would the turnpike be clear this morning, thursdays are for traffic they say, or they don’t, but I think it anyway, anything to keep my mind drifting into road rage, which is a misnomer, I clearly am not mad at the road, the road can not help the lack of planning that has it crowded so, besides the poor thing is out here all hours of night, in all weather, so who am I to gripe? against my fellow man, woman or whatever, perhaps then, I watch people in my mirrors jockey in the lanes like slow motion indy 500 drivers, somehow I think myself better than them as I stay put in my lane, a little pocket of joy pops when I pass them, and a sliver of grrrr when they pass me, just the same, what the hell am I doing contemplating such things? feeling the swirling, like flushing down a drain, the rain is still in the zip code but relenting, and then, as if I texted the sky gods, the sun decided to have a go, a little late, but better now than never, you know one of those times like it seems the sky has opened and the very light of heaven is streaming down ? yeah, something like that… literally as if I had reached up in my basement and pulled that old string attached to the too short chain attached to the rickety light bulb that is probably older than dirt itself (judging by the dust cloud puff), the blazing sunlight bathes my car from hood to rear like a curtain pulling back, and then quite suddenly I felt a sense of, I don’t know how best to describe it, joy ? uplifting… joy? joy-spiration? (sure, that works) I did not literally turn 180 degrees as that would be foolish (and illegal, not to mention dangerous) but my spirit certainly did, in an instant of just abundant joy, from a mere smattering of sunlight revealed, and people wait on street corners for drugs… I should corner the market I tell you (if I could bottle the stuff)… but anyway, the moral of the story, well, OK there is no moral per se, just a reminder, a little spark of joy might just be around the corner (or the next one), so when you get dressed in the morning, remember your underwear (important), lace up your shoes with some hope, attune your ears to receive positive radar pings, warm up your eyes to the idea of possibility, be open to the world… and you may, just may, find a little slice of heaven out there just waiting for your to discover… or even just some crumbs of happiness, I’ll take either or the latter…
Photo by Tobias Bjørkli on Pexels.com
notes… so I will leave you with that, I have a rare weekend off and I am going to venture into the wilds of New Jersey… yes! there are wilds here, mostly coastal salt marshes and such, and sadly I have never been to every corner of my own damn state! shame on me, so I aim to fix that record, I will be traveling near Smithville…. in between some more famous places but after driving by a few times over the years it is time I stopped by and stayed awhile, at least a couple of nights, a king suite with a jacuzzi doesn’t hurt, just sayin’…
if you like the free form and rambling rambling rambling style please visit my Collections & Series page, scroll down to the Essay section… and to all who read this far or this at all, I bow, and say thanks. I do this for me but share it for others to see…
“she knows every trick trigger and measure to get under my skin and at my pleasure awash in my thick vanity adored by the mob fawning flattery a crop of golden laurels blind surrender the crisp apple bears twice bitten”
notes… for she is my weakness and my strength, my triumph and my tragedy, my love and my loss, lost. I wrote this back in may but revised it this day, so…. here it is or was, or, now, or… something. (oh yeah, and I am making lost. love. letters like a thing now… just visit my collections page to see all the posts if you dig this particular vibe, then you can skip my other stuff if you so choose)
music (I wonder if anyone checks these out, ah, if it is any one of you that’s cool)…
“I feel like a lost traveler a wanderer holding a lantern up against the darkness stumbling toward the cliff I can only see with which the light I was given only through these eyes piloted through my perception I hear the rumors of others I happen upon their remains, their works, their names even then there is no clear path ahead laid out before me in this wilderness so I must trust in the light that something is out there worth this endless search from foot falls foot to own I travel on forward upon my road”
tonight’s musical extravaganza ? funny you should ask..
sometimes I need me some goth/doom/metal stuff… but really is this that different from some David Bowie stuff ? nah… open your mind, and ears, I have vast tastes and intend to share them regardless of futility, damn the borg, they got nothing on me…
“unremarkable sky guardian your exquisiteness is my breath a time capsule from within I will pass all my own the thin blue horizon which protects this very breath held tightly against this earth by means we understand by eons we can not comprehend”
notes… semi related to my last post, kind of a reminder that wonder is all around us (and I don’t just mean the bread), I wrote this in my head on the way to work in the car, which is annoying, I really get anxiety trying to recite lines back to myself and hope I remember them when I get to the office (if traffic is not murder I can not scribble things down at 75 mph you know), and I am just not good at dictating to my phone, it just.. I don’t know, the pen is my friend and is the one I take to the dance…
so much of what we are told is what we are told, I ponder about that castle up on the hill, that was my dream, once all seemingly within my reach, it was what I was supposed to be, the prince, the crown, the queen, then king, the life laid out before I knew anything of this life, down the hill, from that great mount, but, upon rainbow’s end, it was not real, just an ideal of what I was supposed to want, to aspire to be, in the image planned, of those who raised this vessel and chose what might fill the same, the directions I might start out upon, which roads I should follow, and how the other choices were trails that led to nothingness from their experience or opinion, but for yet those before had never laid their own eyes beyond those walls either, and rather engender the dreams I might have gathered, pointed me in the direction of their own, not by malice, or ill intentions, of the hope of granting that castle dream to a future generation, dreams, as such, are best kept to those asleep, for it is better to sit under these stars than to pretend I belong among them, but, do not interpret this the wrong way, but for this is not despair or the death of dreams, this is forthright ground, dirt I can clasp in my hand and sprinkle out on the earth in front of me, this is not despair, to understand the common life, a human life, for there is plenty to wonder at there…
Photo by Snapwire on Pexels.com
this is quitean unremarkable night, as most are, the sunset is not particularly grand, the clouds are just swabs of gray against a not even blue sky, but here I lie, here I am, breathing in such breath, creating words from the fruit of the universe filtered down through my hand, and this pen, I could despair, I could dwell on all the wrong, out there in the world, or know, and truly feel, alive, untouched, at the moment, by the great miseries, that stalk us down, but tonight, this night, that dark finger has not crossed me, not pointed me out, not tapped on my shoulder and gave me that nod, for this is my time, my dream, an unremarkable life perhaps in the scheme, of things, not a castle on a hill, not a cache of riches, not the adoration of faceless masses, just the sheer miracle and joy of this existence, even if this, is just for a minute, let this by my tale so others may know it… (part of my porch project)
thoughts, comments, war strategies, ways to fold your legs in interesting ways… are all appreciated, c’mon now people what are your thoughts on the matter?
I like to take things lighter on the weekend (hey it is summer, India Day coming here in Edison NJ and the Yankees are playing the Red Sox, summer indeed), time to relax and let the week… end, and start anew on Sunday, so here are some quick things I might not post otherwise, lest they hang on the vine and rot away in the shadows of my journals (these range in age from May until, well, now-ish)…
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
cherry blossoms greet you at spring’s door in a twist they are gone may day all fall down
birds in a yard conducting business or covert intentions how am I to interpret their intricacies
refrain rejoice even in the rain
on my lawn upon my yard robins do a two step a young jack nimbles and is quick buttercups add a touch of color of bright yellow candor
for cardinals are the bane of bulls to small to gore to red to ignore
we live upon the southern edge at that precipice of storm for we look beyond our shores
All your thoughts, comments, likes, hates, opinions, critiques, and eyes on any of my writing are with thanks… so, thanks. feel free to comment, lament, foment, ferment and any other lent you can think of, the floor is yours… because I prefer the bed….
Shades of My Garden 