music to accompany the photos by…. trust me, it vibes…
the last night of a vacation is always a strange one, I can’t complain about a thing, the office left me alone (mostly), the universe provided a spot, the weather, all of it really, the amazing confluence of the universe, but some how still, I feel like a crowd of strangers crashed the party at the end, for most of the week I have been able to dodge it, skulking about the edges and corners of the town, haunting nearly forgotten (or just not well known) beaches and refuges, returning nightly to a nearly empty (albeit on the ocean) hotel, I prefer the solitude in order to decompress, you might never know this, to talk to me that is, I usually light up the room, like a wily wild experienced entertainer, I can read eyes and minds, and like a magician I weave my words into superstition and illusion, slight of mind I suppose, everyone has their pillars, both to hold and to look imposing from most angles, but I do not always want to perform, not these days, not vacation days, I am here to unplug, there will be plenty of days to banter away but that switch is so on ‘off’ this evening, I dread negotiating for a seat at one of my favorite restaurants here, the anticipation every year… seafood pot pie, I can not explain the devilish grin that pops in my head and lights on fire all my senses just thinking about it, just the mass of people between me and that, I understand the economics, but that does not always check my inner selfish at the door (selfish for shellfish? perhaps), can’t I be self serving sometimes? well, at least in my inner monologue, as usual my concerns are probably overblown, but I won’t know until later, I’m on the porch at the hotel, above the pool, ocean view, close enough to hear the surf, not at the moment, four floors below the outdoor bar is a roar, one hundred conversations and I am a part of none, a couple of my fellow hotel fellows are flanked out on their porches, absorbed in their own worlds as well, the streets seem to be swelling with passer byes, and the clamor of horse drawn carriages (yes, they have those here), and a trolly, old time bicycle bells ringing, mounted to baskets above the front rims, bikes all dressed in those made for summer or the tropics, pastels, the colors that tend to fade quickly from neon birthing, ‘american pie‘ the one man band at the bar took the request, then joined in jam with a harmonica player who happened to be on hand, my cynical side smells a setup but I am enjoying the vibe besides anyway, I bathe in the utter familiarity of it all, not a song I would normally choose but hard to argue with in this open air sunny beach venue, all just seems to strum the right mood, and I look left, glad no one is using the hot tub, that thing, that beast is loud, I can only imagine being in it knowing the volume it shoots up, before the pandemic, this time of year, this place was more dead than alive, or maybe just in hibernation, I don’t think some things will ever be the same, good, bad or different, my concentration wanders back to the bar tops below, I wonder about each set, table, couples and the like, stories I never heard or never will, lives crossing right through my latitude, like astral bodies set to collide but never meeting, enough to lock eye-to-eye, I almost want to intrude but not be an intruder, the singer at the bar then breaks into “I want to grow old with you” from a movie I can relate to, I am oddly… moved.
showing my age… ah… who cares… I think I will post some photos next, I had an interesting week here in my home state… visiting little beaches up the coast, or down the coast, as it were… stay tuned, or not, I will post anyway, but thanks for any and all looks, until next time…
at the border, the line, where civilization and the beach both meet and divide, so, here I am again, under an artificial light, wondering about life, as it happens, just over there, a Friday celebratory night, lights, all colors, conversations, all comers and I, invariably, wind up here, on the night beach, the surf ahead of me with a lullaby roar, this will outlast us all and yet as well itself, just a mantle of timing really, and behind me, laughter, arguments, love, consequence, all the buildings standing tall, and I wonder for what, or why, or is that the point, and then mix in the smells, the crisp bright ocean air mixed with the offerings of the thoroughfare, is this what I have been conditioned to know, to be happy with, is this my path, for I seem to gravitste to the same places, and ask myself and the universe the very same questions, and tommorow, is yet another day forward, another chance, and yet – here I am.
there is lightning on the horizon, I do not mean that metaphorically, out -over the dark ocean water, surely miles from here but still real, the sugar feel sand is cool not cold, the weather is seasonably warm, which enables the bold or just lack of decent restrain, I seem to wait, as I do, for something to break, or is this all there is, and my place in it is just a bellwether documenting same, a snapshot, a painter, an observer, how am I to criticize from where I come and what I may yet desperately want to be a part of, at some level? I feel at home and in a strange place, but yet- I must admit my choices have brought me to this gate, my joys, my sadness, my triumphs, my worst and my best – have all led to this reservation, to this fleeting week of floating, I kept ties on my ‘real world’, I surely did, but so quickly those threads dissipated, I wonder how important they really are, like a mighty spider’s web, a wonder, hours of construction, and smashed in a a day or so, left to rebuild a masterpiece just to eat, or so it was, and so I am ready, once again, to be thrown back into the blender of life, even armed with this sojourn in calm, all these nights to contemplate my fate, my life, my dreams, the gone, the now, the in-between, can I don this armor of self realization and beat the blitz, to climb out onto that field and make my own way, past cavalry, infantry, and me, I have all the tools I need, have I now the experience to utilize them fully, once more and again…
I watch the slow river of clouds, mix like solutions, like milk swirling my morning coffee, the composition is random but ruled by laws, I would rather think of them as free dreams inspiring the earth, and the river has slid down, engulfing the moon, but some light still escapes in highlights, somewhere submerged, the moon is still there, waiting, waxing. waning, a light not to be denied, and to never succumb fully regardless of the folly, we preach beneath…
So… what a strange contemplation, what a strange feeling, at once I feel alone, isolated, never a real member of the village, always the guy who lives out in the woods or on the exterior portions, disconnected, but right here in the mix of the world, and yet… the exhilaration, as I climb over rocks to find nooks of a beach few eyes take in, not some new impossible spot, for surely they have all been found before (and they have) but there is this moment of discovery, like you are on the moon as armstrong once stood, ok, maybe not that grand, but still, the little kid in you, that devilish imp thinking you are doing something you shouldn’t, you are privy to the plot that no one else has seen, I can only imagine what a real explorer felt, even if they were not the primary, they must have felt this same rush, centuries are blind, humanity binds us, we have the same instincts, wants, desires, we just have different clothes to put on, call it technology, or progress, all the same, a chord links us all back to the first walking apes, until we become fully machines, which may or may not happen, not in my lifetime, I imagine myself downloaded into computer memory, my electrical impulses and what not, but I doubt I will see the day, as alone as I feel in seeking lonely places, I feel more connected than ever to life, to nature, to history, I am not expecting every one to understand, but this is how I feel out here, would I like someone else to understand ? and share this with? I would be lying if I said no, but I have learned in life you need to be happy with what you get, dreams are not a bad thing, no, they are a great thing, but your feet are on this ground so be there to… just try to accept life as it comes the good the bad, like the tide, highs and lows, always the highs and lows, but I must admit, being here, I feel my regrets, I wear them, but they do not wear me down, out there, back there, in the real, everything seems amplified, so I just suppose, I need a remote beach to repose, to retreat…no, to visit, when in need, once a year has sufficed but would I be better visiting twice… and more..
(later in the day) I saw a young couple walk past me on the jetty as I was filming, I say young meaning they were probably in their 20s, maybe late 20s, sort of goth dressed but not as goth as I recall back in the day when the Cure were huge, I don’t mean any of that in a bad way, just descriptive, plus dock martens are and always will be awesome, but anyway, they are dressed sort of androgynously, which makes sense in the scene, probably wearing heavier jackets than they should be, but yet she was baring her midriff, and she wasn’t thin, but it totally worked for her, well at least to my eye, and apparently his, they walked by determined to go to the edge of the jetty, I cut a waft of their cigarettes, or just his, hard to tell, but it brought me back, for sure cloves, there is something so special to me about cloves, I want to ask them where they got them but didn’t want to interrupt the moment, who needs some random jackass ruining your thing with your woman ? I don’t want to be that guy… but cloves, damn, I was a Black Djarum guy for some years, ever smoke em ? damn tasty… I went not many vacations without them, but that temptation has passed, my lungs are picky things, I watch, as the young couple meanders all the way out to the end of the jetty, the seas are not rough today, I would ponder each step myself, and haven’t had the balls to go all the way out… but good for them, shadows now, I can barely see them, as I fall back to my car, try to kick all the sand out of my shoes, look back once, not for a moment jealous, but for a moment of what if…
every inch of my body says yes
every instinct of my mind says no
there you are…
is this love or addiction?
notes… file this under simplicity posts… mine mostly, driving to work these words just popped into my head (and I had to repeat them over and over to myself until I got to work), I do find I am more inspired… or more prone to write depending on the songs playing, maybe that is why sometimes I feel like I am writing lyrics to a song, sometimes… the muse is fickle, but I am glad I have a ticket for the ride… thanks universe, I owe you one (+1Up sound here)
a loose caravan
of common black-birds
races across the near-still canvas
colors of the autumn setting sun
off, towards the quarter-crescent blue moon
they pay no notice
to the bustling parkway below
and for a moment
I. am with them
notes… I should wire my go pro to capture what I actually see, maybe, would that diminish or enhance? either way I feel the need to do so… which means it will help, two nights later the same stretch of road was the same, but darker, and two planes were crossing the same path as the birds, it was like some sort of sequel…
as far as I know
been called a ‘lesserchaun’
perhaps I’m lesser than some;
I have my enchanted coin
but it’s not minted of any gold
but my luck runs just the same
on the hot side of cold‘
I almost imagined this one as a conversation, one sided, of what a leprechaun might say to someone in passing, the ‘little people’ but yet they are magical and the pride of rainbows, so, I was trying to weave in playful nature and also deception in a little ditty… I can not explain what compels me to write such things, I just do…