Author: David Koblentz

Inspiration is a fickle muse. Sometimes empty, sometimes overwhelming. These words I write are my own but they seem driven by something else (perhaps?).
‘proof of life’ an exposition… or just observance, or, ah screw it…

‘proof of life’ an exposition… or just observance, or, ah screw it…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
action adventure aerial aerial shot
Photo by Sebastian Voortman on Pexels.com

awash in the whirlpool of life, the little details that spin your head and move your focus round about, this morning, such the chore, taking the car to the dealership for a required check up, they open at 8am and I am no friend of the early morning, well, at least until I grab a hold of a large cup of joe, coffee, that is, to the uninitiated, I must have been feeling fancy this morning and went to my keurig with a starbucks hazelnut blend, I usually just bust out the bustello, my usual friend, but I do love a little hazelnut now and again, the dealership is nice enough, tucked up in a corner of jersey (denville), there are all these little negotiations we make in the daily dance, do I put my mask on … now? do I go inside? or just follow the sign that says ‘enter on green arrow’ by the garage, I’m second in line, so I think the pressure is defaulted to the person in front, but they are not stirring, 7:57am, so close now, everything looks closed, the website says 9am open but my info told me otherwise, 7:58am now and not a creature is stirring, my mind races for no real concrete reason at all, but tell that to my mind, 7:59, I think I see someone, a shadow at least milling around inside, 8am, as if on cue, as if by magic, or just an utterly mundane tuesday morning, the garage opens and in rolls candidate number one in front, do I pull up? do I wait? what, am I negotiating a multinational trade deal here, get a grip, so I do, on the radio dial, but the top of the hour is all news, yawn, no thanks, time for tunes, the blessing and curse of the modern, hundreds of albums to choose from, maybe I am better off turning the radio off, maybe the coffee has had more of an effect on me than I would like to admit (I have to say during this whole pandemic thing I have not been hitting my fix of caffeine as often as I used to), so, perhaps that is what is on my edge this morning, a catalyst for neurotic notions, so I need to… relax, I admonish myself that this sure beats being at work, doesn’t it? and then the clouds part, I’m waved in, no  doubt about it, I pull up to the appointed place, company car, company appointment, I pretty much don’t have to do squat… but squat out in the waiting area outside for awhile apparently, socially distant rules apply, a younger guy sits at the table next to mine, he brought his laptop, damn, I should have thought of that, they surely have decent WiFi, there is only so much I can do on my phone, so time to wait it out, the threat of rain looms, I play some games, watch the car carrier unload, time seems slow, I am not sure if that is my car, I mean I am at the dealership, there are tons of ‘my car’ there by default, and there, in the corner of my eye, something moves, fluttering on by, a meandering pattern, well, not a pattern then, a meandering flight, up-down and mostly right to left, a moth, stark perfect white, I do not know why, nor could I tell you what, but I felt surprisingly alive, a moment of confirmation, all wrapped up in this mundane everyday situation, snapped back into the realization of life, life! just a simple thought, from a simple moth, a little nudge from the outside… or above… I’m alive, I am ALIVE…

the idea of rain (and sun and moon and stars)

the idea of rain (and sun and moon and stars)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
silhouette photography of grass
Photo by Darwis Alwan on Pexels.com

so here I am, rock you like a hurricane, here I am… sorry, 80’s flashback there, so, here I am, sitting outside, waiting for the reported storm to come, the wind has been kicking up for a few hours but is oddly quiet now, cliche, I know, the calm before the storm and all, but what can I say? it applies in this case, the sky has darkened but not to doomsday levels of bleak black, just darker than it should be at this 7pm hour, the kind of dark you experience like a curtain slowly dropping a storm in, a dimming of the lights of sorts, and then begins, the sound, the subtle pitter-patter pacing, the approaching, hearing the footsteps, slowly creeping closer, then building volume while shortening the distance, leaves being gently prodded then a few moments later pelted with droplet heavy hammers, ever closer, waiting for the invisible dam to explode wide open, and the then, a pause, the thought hit me, the actual ‘idea’ of rain and what it is, I understand all the variables as I was taught them at a young age, and the actual science of same, water vapor and the cycle of water through the atmosphere, and I feel robbed, in a way, by the knowledge, the wonder is lost, the sheer amazement of this amazing thing is lost, I imagine, or try to feel the naivety of my ancestral form, looking up into the sky and wondering where this water is coming from, surely clouds, surely one would make that connection with no scientific anchor around, but beyond that, imagine water just appearing from the sky, the sheer amazement, the sheer why, the sheer wonder, how can this water be? maybe I am a romantic when my mind comes to nature, or just a dreamer that prefers to think of the sky as wonder, to dance in the idea that the sun is carried across the heavens in a chariot, the moon a nearby companion, the stars a map of constellation figures… and the rain now beats harder, to the drum to move my bum back indoors, and maybe listen to the drops beating against the window, and perhaps… to dream a little more.

humidity… (the day that would not burst)

humidity… (the day that would not burst)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
close up photo of leaf
Photo by Swapnil Sharma on Pexels.com

the day that would not burst, humidity, so damn thick today, I can actually taste the hanging moisture in the air or feel the weight of said heavy moisture that has tricked my senses to believe so, maybe it has just been that long between seasons, or the spell cast by this strangest of springs, milling about the house like a tethered on a leash garden gnome, and just as useful (or not), and sans the cool pointy hat or costume, I would have sworn on a dotted line and counted all pins down strike that rain would come today, sure, I could use that fancy internet thing and look things up, but I was busy with work, remotely helping customers with errors, bad luck, and just dumb stuff, such is the IT world of support, one day cleaning dust bunnies from lowly printer sensors, the next finding out what compromised a ten thousand dollar enterprise server, but if I delve into those details, I risk boring you further, and that would seem counter productive , back on the road the GPS says, in my head… all the signs were there, no sun, it took the day off (I get it, shining every day for 4 billion years must be tiring), there was a wind that would stop and start with fury, whizzing by a little stronger than it’s ordinary day cousins as of late, the leaves, the leaves – usually the tell of a coming storm, for some reason they flip upside down, belly up, so once bright green trees appear pale, as if the leaves are supplicating to the sky for some proof of life, I witnessed all those signs, and then even a drizzle teased my face when I went to grab the mail, another excuse to leave the house and wander outside for a bit, maybe I’ll walk the dog again, even she is losing her enthusiasm for it, I was so sure, sure as can be, just waiting for the burst of rain, anticipating a nice afternoon nap with the ran lapping at my window, the wind stirring my bamboo rack back and forth like a sweeping pendulum, just typing that now makes me want to crawl into bed like a toddler exhausted from daily play without care, but still, night now, I look outside, damn, still no rain, I guess I built myself up for this disappointment, maybe just take things as they are and find the good in that, I suppose there is a lesson in there somewhere… maybe…

notes.. hey, you, yeah you, thanks for reading, I appreciate it, I am a very acquired taste as I am a very unique mix of ingredients, my blog is just me throwing art and words into the world, you dig ? cool….

a moment, from the porch…

a moment, from the porch…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
clear close up dewdrops drop of water
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

just enough humidity to break a sweat, and just enough of a breeze to cool down, two days… two days of nearly 80 degrees, I feel like my hand got slammed inside the cookie jar, waiting for each cloud above to explode and rain on my socially distant non parade, but no silver linings tarnished, I can report, at least not yet anyway, there are many folks walking around the neighborhood, some with masks, some not, a lone gentleman, well – I am giving him the benefit of the doubt, he was wearing a full outfit including surgical gloves, honestly, walking alone outside there is not really a need for that, well, to each his own, and update, in actuality he wasn’t a gentleman either, not a nod, nor a look, not even the ole hand throw, not any gesture whatsoever to acknowledge your fellow traveler in this life, nope, nothing that could even be remotely misconstrued as a ‘hello’, be PPE’d to the max man but at least be cordial, ya’ know? most passer bys at least offer a cautious verbal or mouthed a  greeting, the real adventurous throw a hook in the water with a “how ya’ doin?”, daring a conversation, oh the bravery, oh the humanity, two houses down they have their own setup, they block the apron to their driveway with their two SUVs, and let their kids play all day in the space between the garage and the auto blockade, their own little sandbox carved out like a country in all this covid driven madness, all the while mom does ‘laps’ of the perimeter, for exercise or guard duty, I’ll throw my hat in with a little of both, honestly that would bore me to tears, but probably beats doing laps of TV networks or websites trying to find something new, familiar, or vaguely OK to pass the time, they are Korean, not that it matters any day, just happens to be true in this case, maybe there is some cultural thing I do not understand, I’d ask but, I just remember the parents always seemed appalled that their two little girls always joyfully broadcast out monumental smiles and genuine loving hellos to absolutely  everyone (my dog included) as they went up and down the street on their big wheels, I catch them watching me as I tend to my bamboo, I catch a hand wave now and again (and their folks disapprove with looks)…

I get it, we all cope differently, I think some have welcomed the isolation super gladly, I thought I might be the same, but a couple of weeks in, my ship yearned for shore, maybe not a popular resort port but definitely some semblance of the dry land of old…

and yeah… this is part of my Porch series… an ongoing thing…

the conundrum of clovers… (a musing)

the conundrum of clovers… (a musing)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
green plant close up photography
Photo by Elias Tigiser on Pexels.com

ah, the tease of clovers
I suppose ‘weed‘ is an arbitrary term, at one point there must have been a council of nicaea to decide what is canon plant and what is considered a weed to be excluded from the collection of accepted plants, and like such meeting I am sure there is controversy on all sides then and since, however, in the endeavor, I am addressing clovers, is this a cultural thing? a north american thing influenced by the influx of irish immigration in the earlier part of last century? I could investigate such things at length, but what’s the point really? the perception is there, meaning the reality is there under-laid, the lowly clover definitively stands taller than other weeds in the pantheon of plant-dom, it captures our imagination with something that can not be quantified… luck infused with lore.
luck, the word is a devil, a greased watermelon in a lake, so easily defined that every child could tell you on their tongue what luck is, but ask them, or anyone, to show it to you? or quantify it? so… I give you clovers, the chance, chance! luck’s mentor, for without chance there is no luck, always the chance of an empty hand, or a straight flush, there in the domain of luck, and somehow this power, this hope, this chance, this vote of the impossible is all in root, born into the fruit of a clover, magical, mystical, yet quite probable due to genetic variation, such a cauldron, such mythology mixed with just enough real world sense, and there you have it, the four leaf clover, hidden in the mundane of common growth we all know, like many other wonderful things, the promise, the prize, the random nature of found luck, the lottery of green, how many plants garner this esteem? (and am I only speaking of plants… or a little more?)

7am

7am

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
boy in red and white plaid shirt sitting on green grass field near a tombstone
Photo by Suzanne Walker on Pexels.com

I walk outside, barefoot, “barefoot?” you think, yes, we have had this conversation before, unless you are new to my blog, so I can forgive you on that score, the world is misting, at least in this little corner of new jersey, not rain, not drizzle, almost an imperceptible spray, more like when a wave breaks on a jetty a few feet away, definitely not from the clouds, or at least that is the feel, the perception, the world has been more quiet these months (the strange spring as I call it), but more so right now, even with the expectation dams bursting with excitement at the prospect of summer, beaches, parties and the like, but today,  more quiet sets the stage, I watch what little breeze there is twitch the clovers that have ingratiated themselves as citizens in my rock garden, I don’t mind clovers, although none of these are four leaf, that variety seems to escape me, somehow they have a better back story than most weeds, and get a pass in that department, the ground is barely wet, yet there is enough moisture to pool under the front of the car in the driveway, dripping, just enough, and not nearly a pool anything can swim in, there is nothing stirring about, the only sound is a family of birds in a tree up the block, arguing, about what I have no idea, but it sounds intense, but human sounds are absent, there is a solemn tone, or at least that is what I breathe in, perhaps this is more what this day should be about, not frisbees and grill marks, a solemn reminder about souls lost, maybe not every year does the curtain of this need to overshadow and dampen spirits, but perhaps there is merit in this, for at least sometimes, to remind us to reflect, stay inside our comfort, not rejoice in the shining sun unrelated to the meaning of the day, for we are here as surrogates to those who are not, those before paved the way for this day to even rise, so take a moment, and thank them in your thoughts, for a gift, the gift you unwrapped long ago.

a thought about the pariah of panic…

a thought about the pariah of panic…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
don t panic text on toilet paper
Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com

“there is no safe room
in which to abandon to
the light of day, nor the ire of night
cares not what struggles beneath
the universe does not discriminate
fate has no favored prey”

notes… be safe but also be prudent as to the ways of the universe, we are but a cog, we exist, and the universe deemed us necessary in the history of all things, take some solace in this…

inception… lucid dreaming.

inception… lucid dreaming.

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
pink clouds
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

the idea, planted, like a silent surreptitious spy seed, insidious indeed, while consciously aware of the virus (obviously) I did not imagine it inseminating my imagination (perhaps a naive sway), or quietly building a condo in my sub-conscious as it were, that was until yesterday, I like to think I can easily book fare into lucid dreaming, if you are unaware of what that is, go ahead and research it, I’ll still be here when you get back, anyway, whether helped by music, or meditation, I am able to get myself there more regularly these days, through practice or luck? who knows, probably some stitched quilt of both, sometimes I am stuck in a bad loop, other lucid experiences make me not want to get our of bed for fear of losing the moment, generally there are themes, even recurring locales, scenarios, maybe I nudge my sub conscious self a bit into familiar neighborhoods when dawn and night are fighting (dawn wins, you know, that is how it is), but just this, yesterday, I found myself in a familiar place (inside a set piece of a dream), this really cool hotel, or maybe just a house, but it feels like a hotel, the back of the rooms have a moat, or I suppose a pool, about ten feet wide and five feet deep, with the water constant, floor level, but a fancy pool made of dark/black stone, and the same dark stone (with a kind of wavy pattern surface) encompasses the floor of the room, kind of modern feel, but wooden walls, bamboo patterns, modern but warm with accent lighting painting “V”s north every three feet as such, the head of the bed is up against the moat (almost), the front of the room (that would face the hall) is just huge plates of tall glass to the ceiling (a high ceiling like twenty feet), frosted glass though, for privacy, and also so you could see shadows of people milling about but not what kind of people, frankly they could be aliens and you would have no clue, times like these really make me wish I could draw, but stick figures would not cut it for this exercise, and that is about all the skill I have in that area, so words will have to suffice, and I hope they do, the rooms are all connected via the moat, and you can kind of float around to see your friends and neighbors, this dream is always strange as the inhabitants are people I do not know well, or are from my past, very random, and one of them, and this detail seemed to scream at me in the dream, one of them was wearing a mask, not quite surgical, one of the low end cheap ones we see ad infinitum these days, this startled me into awake state, now, this happens time and again, something stirs you from an otherwise comfortable inside trip, often I will just dip back into my dream trying to recapture the sensation of being in my own film creation, sometimes you feel like you are falling, or you hear something, but somehow this was more disturbing, the image was so stark, almost like a thousand bulbs going off at once, like a big flash of reality to douse the fire of my inner imaginations ingenuity, and I could not force myself back into that dreaming space, so perhaps the virus has infected me, in some way, I must admit…

the rabbit and the fox (nj driving)

the rabbit and the fox (nj driving)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

state-police-cars-5ca53217ffef0e94

/rant-on
I do not think of myself (normally) as prey, maybe I should, maybe I shouldn’t, maybe it is like picking out your clothing for the day, formal? work? play? prey? I suppose… but there is the game, this pure silliness was put on hiatus for some months now as far as I could tell, but now is back in full bloom, at least this day, of course I am referring to the state troopers on stake out or look out on the roads north, arbitrary speed limits that change by town, speed limit signs covering construction zones that are not active today (the excuse is a safety issue which is fine if there are workers actually present, I get that), so what the hell is speeding anyway? I can be driving @ 80mph, all alone, and safely, or driving 45 weaving in and out of traffic like a blind bezerker on crack, or not even know where the hell I am, so which is the worse offense? everyone knows (with a little historical search) that speed limits were set back in the 70s due to the fuel crisis, which now, is actually a surplus situation, but those regulations have not… wait for it… wait for it… been brought up to speed, POW! pun play in the house! so I have become a lip reader, well, ok, more like a tail light whisperer and at the same time mentally noting the particular location enclaves of the traps, I imagine rabbits are the same, the ones that live have surely avoided such pitfalls, I imagine myself as such, mr. clean driving record that I am, it all seems so random though, I am not a speed junkie or speed demon or speed anything, but am I some rogue element for clicking a speed a bit above on a perfectly straight (mostly) road in near perfect conditions? sheer random stupidity given today’s car safety, although I have to say I am either lucky or crafty, or both, as I have managed to avoid the net cast out to catch my fellow speed crooks, perhaps this is all due to a rabbit’s foot.
/rant-off

notes… no dis to the troopers whatsoever but they certainly have better things to do with their time than hand out speeding tickets.

“tunnels” (when the ground opens and changes the world, feel)

“tunnels” (when the ground opens and changes the world, feel)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
backlit black and white dark indoors
Photo by Vojtech Okenka on Pexels.com

There are days when it seems like there is some light at the end of this tunnel (these days more so), reaching back a few weeks the initial memory is so strange now, as if we just stumbled or fell blindly into this gigantic pit and a singular tunnel was the only way out, along the way lights of rumor or cures have lit up hope, and other times days bumbling about in the absolute dark, sometimes afraid to even move, listening carefully for any glimmer whisper, trying to imagine where the horizon is, where or if the dawn will come, wanting to move in that direction without harm, using distraction to pass the hours, and hours, and hours, wondering if everyone you talk to is a carrier, or are you the one who will cause others to be infected, two fold parallel paranoia cascade that slowly chews at your exterior, bit by bite, one bite is no big deal but the accumulation begins to feel more real, especially as the days move on and stay grey, rain, rain, just the sound sometimes is enough to know the sun is done for the day, and obscured light, deprives hope of needed sustenance, realization is a rock, a foundation, a tool, a better one than distraction, which is only fleeting and needs constant reconfiguration, realization that there has to be an end to this, the unprecedented ‘this’, well, at least for this generational mix, the analogy we are sold is war, but no war has been battled here, on this ground, on our turf for so long, except for the wars in history books, and reenactment hooks, those seem unreal, you ‘know‘ they were real, but the feel? to be honest, is just not there, even Washington crossing the Delaware, right here in my state, and I have been there, the very spot, seems like a fairy tale or a children’s book, when our states were not even a states as we know them now, hard to imagine those days, we are of course a product made of our own time frame construct, this is our when and now, and this is for us to endure more as a whole nation than before, so we are struggling to emerge from our sudden subterranean existence, to find and clutch that beloved normal terrace once again, even if we will be miles of locations from there in the end, as normal will move to a different point by then, “cautiously optimistic” the mantra, the meme, repeat it with me now, I do not want to be a doomsayer, or a naysayer, nor a smiling glowing peach blowing smoke up the collective posterior, somewhere in-between I think, signs of life seem to be emerging, is this just the manifestation of spring? my imagination? a combination thereof, or is this all some strange fantasy playing like a simulation in my mind, the days have seemed brighter as of late, there is still this strange silence at night compared to my memory, and still a colder than usual temperature stowaway hiding onboard, maybe I feel the weekend peeking around the door, or sense the pulse of the pending holiday, the traditional signal of summer, Memorial Day, a dinner bell to the beach for the masses, lines of cars reaching miles back on the Driscoll bridge, a time to break out the swimming pools, some fake sand and out of place palm trees, burgers and dogs on the grill, all these things float like dreams out there, beyond the tunnel end, but I think I can catch a glimpse of them, hopefully, not a hallucination after wandering these some months in a tunnel, that seemed to have no end…

totally unrelated audio, aside from the name, a band I always loved, call it sludge, call it metal, sloppy bass heavy metal with near scream vox, that is fudge tunnel, sometimes you just want to let loose and groove, lyrics? who cares, feel?  yeah… and hell yeah… groove on down the road, they got chops, and the bass sound is sick, so deal…