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?).
claus-trophobia on x-mas…

claus-trophobia on x-mas…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
japanese lucky coin cat
Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on Pexels.com

as is the x-mas tradition I grew up with, the family gets together, and we order from the only place that is open, the local chinese place, it is not even a particularly good one, we always say we are going to do something else, but never do, we settle on the familiar, of course options are limited, there are only so many things you can do on x-mas, I have sampled the few other goods, there is always the movies, for some reason, they are always open, I suppose it takes minimal staff to press play and shower some popcorn with golden delicious butter, been there done that, and nothing in the cinema is pulling me toward the theater so… there is always Atlantic City, throw away some dough at the mere chance of making piles more, AC (as we jersey folk slang it out) is a desolate town on x-mas, just fellow jews and chinese mostly, this makes sense of course, all up and down casino row you can go, any slot machine you care to, any table for any action, like having the town to yourself, nah, done that before, so here we are, ordering the inevitable chinese take out (delivery was going to take an hour, and seriously, the place is 5 minutes away), so we huddle to determine the order…

eat printed paper
Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

like a fool, I don’t go with a staple, something I know will be mediocre but expected, I choose something off the grid, on the back fold, thinking that in all my experiences with this particular restaurant I was going to encounter some x-mas miracle with my order, “singapore chicken” – on the menu as: ‘diced chicken with fresh garlic and mushrooms’, sounds good to me, no dishwater wanton or undersized egg-roll this year, I am actually looking forward to the dish, I depart out…

they said 25 minutes, which in the chinese take out world screams “we’re really busy”, which makes sense, being the only game in town, I arrive, the parking lot is mysteriously… not empty, but not busy either, a smattering of cars just under a dozen, “bonus!” I think, I park, away from the other cars, it’s something I do, I approach on foot, better news, there is not a person in the vestibule, again, a sign they are not as busy as times in the past packed in like sardines, the outer door breaks some sort of security vacuum and makes the other door slam a bit announcing my arrival of sorts, I glance toward the take out table, but no, there are no gleaming packages waiting for me there, no matter, I approach the counter and give my name, sure, my stuff is not ready yet, although I am past the prescribed 25 by a few, I sink back into a corner next to the soda fridge, of course there are cans of soda, I don’t think I have ever seen a chinese place with fountain drinks, the place is near capacity, but no one else is waiting, I’m comfortable, for the time being, I do a little people watching, half expecting a familiar face, the only one is the girl, well, woman now who runs the place, she was in my high school class, she’s aged well, in walks another patron, table for two, accommodated but they are running out of space to sit the in house patrons, another fellow take out-er comes in, the take out table is still bare, so +1 is no waiting there, then a family of four to seat, and two more ordering take out, suddenly I feel penned in, up against the wall, almost quite literally, sure, it has been only 10 minutes but now seconds bleed minutes in my darting mind, there are now people waiting in the vestibule, blocking my escape route, how anxiety ratchets up the mind, the clock hits 45 minutes since my initial order, part of me wants to bail, but others are counting on my return, so I have no choice to bear out this quest, I try to distract myself, look around at all the silly baubles and trinkets you would expect, that cat waving a hand, the tacky toothpick dispenser, a ceramic junk ship replica, I find a little amusement in the Merry Xmas balloons all about, clearly these are not revelers in house tonight, and then another take out client walks in, he does not look too happy, I think he notices the table of take out is quite absent of orders, every time the kitchen doors swing open I am ready to pounce, certainly a great set up for disappointment, I try to play it cool of course, but I am anything but, I feel blocked in, everyone is in bulky jackets,  and then one final creaky swing, a form emerges bag in each hand, could this possibly be… for me? finally? and my name rings out like cool splash quench on a scorching day, the masses part (all five of them) and I depart, meal in hand, ready to return for the x-mas feast, it all gets unpacked, the condiments bag gets dumped out, the dry noodle packages get distributed to those with soup, the green tea bags? eh… no one ever uses them, I unlock my plastic lid, eager to see this newfangled thing, then I see it, imagine strips of chicken the size of half a band aid fried (and resembling same), with some quartered button mushrooms thrown in that almost assume the same color, yes, this does not look so appetizing, but maybe I am wrong, so I try some, and maybe I was right, how can fried be… bland ? and somewhat moist, not even crunchy, I decide to just pile on the red pepper flakes to get through, even then the taste is sparse, not even a bamboo shoot or water chestnut to add some texture to the bunch, everyone (who ordered normal things) seems intrigued with my dish, so, heck, I let them pitch in… this is x-mas after-all…

thoughts from the porch, ho ho ho edition…

thoughts from the porch, ho ho ho edition…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
burn burnt candle candlelight
Photo by Tucă Bianca on Pexels.com

been awhile, my mortar friend, mostly used you as just steps lately, tonight teeters on forty degrees, so I can stop and catch up, I won’t be able to stay long, I already sense the temperature drop, as important as I remind myself to be observant, to take a moment and breathe the world in, and see what I see, that is a lot easier thought and easier to accomplish in warmer weather, but catch a window when you can like a ray of light, so here I am, contemplating life, I covered the late shift at work, I’m not religious and someone else, someone with people to go home to wanted off, so, to me it seemed like the right thing to do, winds up this way most years anyway, my prize was an easy drive for once, no traffic, just the occasional left lane interloper that requires passing on the right, which I hate to do, technically illegal to, but no malice tonight, no glare, no rage, everything is notched down a bit, I picked up some chinese and the only other busy place in the strip mall (or open one) was the ATM kiosk next door, got some gas, I don’t actually pay for gas, company car, fifteen years now, I tipped the guy thirty bucks, he is always nice enough, and cleans my back window from time to time, he was generally appreciative I think, so I drive on home with no major streaks, my street is lined with cars, both sides, but yet… so quiet, everyone is inside, usually such parked traffic has a bit of an audible buzz, but this is more cozy, or maybe I am, I sense something in the air, almost like someone is burning those cinnamon brooms you see outside store doors this time of year, no, that’s not it, pipe tobacco, definitely, I imagine my neighbors are sitting in their backyard, out of my sight, probably a few who broke off from the main party, to shoot the bull on this moonless night, the smell is intoxicating I must say, funny how I am surrounded by buildings, cars, people in their homes, and I am isolated, as many are this time of year, alone on the holidays, even if it is not your holiday really, the whole world seems caught up in it, like a wave you can not stop from washing over you even though you are not near the beach, “just another day” but everything else around you tells a different tale entirely, but I already received my gift, whether I be the amalgamation of scientific randomness, or the very touch of divine spark to my forehead in utero, the universe, in all these billions of years, whether by accident or design, has aligned in such a way, that I am here, alive, right now, as are you, regardless of belief, this is the gift, a gift so great that everything follows the unwrapping, need not be delivered by st nick, or some other myth, this is the truest fable one can… live.

a prayer for those
at home alone tonight
for know you well
the universe
and all time that tell
you were chosen
the greatest gift
you have been given

rejoice in life.

life in dishes…

life in dishes…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
selfie family generation father
Photo by Creative Vix on Pexels.com

going through my mother’s kitchen cabinets, I am astounded by the collection of things, various vessels, plates, platters, some I have seen, some seem like they are on loan from museums of era, glassware that screams 70s disco, ornate sterling silver plates that seem fit for a castle service in england, every matter of serving platter and gravy train saucer container, some glassware is clearly 80s, some screams post modern, others are timeless classics, others covered in dust as if stored in the attic, tacky freeware from tropical destination locations, hand made donations from school projects, mostly bad ceramics, even the firing is showing some cracks, all with a maker’s mark on them, mine or my brother’s, from our childhood exploits, a time where you don’t see your father and mother as people going through life, they’re the guides at that time, the law, the rules, not real people until you learn that is the real truth when you are later with age, every shelf has something else, blenders that look like a 60s caddy, an ice caddy that could have been from the copa back in the day, I’m tempted to flip it over and play it like a bongo, that special electric knife set for special occasions, the big ones for carving like thanksgiving, I can hear the specific song of that thing, the rhythmic stop and start, almost like a chainsaw indoors that activates your appetite, for carving is the last wait before serving, other plates speak country store, some are reminders of other holidays and gatherings, when the house was packed with relatives, casserole dishes laid out for buffet on temporary fold up tables, loud mostly meaningless conversation, children weaving in and out, there is salad dressing containers when you never made your own, an original thermos, iconic cup still secure on top, a fondue set, a fondue set ? that someone else bought, cocktail forks, nutcrackers, can openers, all manner of spoon from baby size to cartoon huge, tongs, a complete world of their own, all the same purpose but so many forms, an egg timer, and egg slicer, a mandolin, sounds instrumental but isn’t, a whisker, a masher, a smasher, a tenderizing mallet, all sounds violent but isn’t, all manner of knife, some have teeth, some not, some on both sides, some on top, all have had a role current or past but here they remain as a testament…

There are many way we count time, clocks, watches, wall calendars, all those now carried even closer on our phones, but what else is there when we look closer enough, books, bookshelves, baubles, random art, gifts that have no use except the important use of reminding those who gave us them, photos, clothes in closets, and so much more.

I see a whole life here, a story, laid out in dishes…

notes… freeform tonight one shot write, looking around my folks home, poking around, they are older now, elderly but that seems like an insult, especially since I feel like I will be there in their place in no time, even though that is decades out on the horizon, a horizon that ever approaches, just the weird little things of life have been catching my eye… this is one of those.  And thanks to all for the looks, likes, and other such things, if I can entertain or enlighten one person my job is done (hey, a thousand or so wouldn’t be bad either, eh)

for the birds…

for the birds…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
photo of flying seagulls on beach
Photo by NastyaSensei on Pexels.com

just driving, picked up korean for lunch, warm soup on a cold day, spicy hot soup really fits the bill, even if the bulgogi is quite tempting (and damn they know how to make fries), but anyway, on my way back to the office, the sun is kind of obscured, just a diffused globe hanging there lost against the wash of gray, I see some birds off in the distance, as I am sitting at a light, wondering why the guy in the tesla a) does not pull up all the way b) is way too close to my lane for my liking, but back to the sky, birds, we just accept they are as they are, I wish to imagine a time when I didn’t know them, or perhaps if I was blind and this is the first time I laid eyes on them, these little darting black triangles dashing all over the sky just far enough out where they are more like outlines, some gliding majestically as if by magic or string, forgetting my knowledge of thermodynamics, I have a hard time trying to imagine, or grasp, what I might think these little devils were without the context of the knowledge that traps me, we watch dragons and zombies on screens but here, in the sky are creatures just as unlikely, just familiar, just known, so we forget the experience, the first time, I try to think back, when did I first see or recognize birds, I would have to say my earliest memories, which do not even seem like mine anymore as they age and fade like old photographs in a box tucked in the corner of my closet somewhere, my earliest time had to be the shore, the beach, the memories seem like a legend now or a bedtime story I am telling myself, I feel out of my body, looking at myself in the past, molding wet sand with art deco neon color plastic buckets, the blazing sun turning my blonde locks near white and making my neck resemble a lobster cooked with freckles, looking up, watching the seagulls hover, standing still in the wind almost like my kite, the pipers playing tag with the surf, back and forth, scampering toward them with my child legs, they do not know I mean no harm but they stay just out of length, probably for the best, but I love to watch them pace back and forth, to this day, the constant tide, the ride, back at my office I arrive, trying to retain a child’s eye, trying to remember what it was like… those first times, for every piece of worldly fabric we may take for granted…

lost.love.letters…

lost.love.letters…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
clouds dark dramatic heaven
Photo by Adam Kontor on Pexels.com

“for I am“
in the dawn of my dying days
awaiting my birth to be reborn
for I am
truly and forever yours
sustenance brought unto your shores
may heavenly vision shun your eyes
so I may pass
and grant refuge, for you
sacrifice to the bearer
so you may go, along that river
for I am
truly and forever yours
for divine light shall strip my flesh bare
strip by strip and cook my bones
so I might spare you
a moment of death
I will gladly suffer the tolerance the toll
no burden shall fail to fall
for I am
truly and forever yours
dare I face the gauntlet of god
inside the crucible of a dying star
collapsing pressure beyond all
humanity before and gone
all so you may walk upon
a golden gossamer waking dawn
may all your suffering be laid upon my door
for, I am, my love, yours
truly and forever more

notes… part of my lost love letters collection where I contemplate her, the one, my only true ex whom I will hold some love at some level forever,   the LLL works are compiled on my collections and series page (scroll down a touch), so if you like this one check out the others, I try to keep everything current, however this is a hobby, an outlet, a needed one, I admit, but sometimes life butts in, you know, how it has a tendency to do…

music…. (something about the guitar sound just sounds like pain to me, the vocals for “what’s inside says” just rules, it begins to rock and then subdues)

Travel Log: Millville, NJ (in dark winter rain, and what’s in a name)

Travel Log: Millville, NJ (in dark winter rain, and what’s in a name)

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
green pine trees
Photo by Brandon Montrone on Pexels.com

I had the, ahem, pleasure of driving down to a corner of my state I certainly do not visit often, but Monday night I was tasked with a software upgrade in these forsaken lands, normally you would not think (I did not) of parts of New Jersey being south of parts of Delaware, well, now I am aware as this locality is due south of Wilmington, funny how perception is, we (new jersey types) always think of Delaware as due south of here (well, it mostly is), but that does go to show how off the main heartbeat and arteries this joint is, it is not barren by any means, they have their share of Targets and Walmarts, just a whole hell of a lot of land in between them, you hear a name like “Millville” and do not associate it with much, but it is funny how things have origins, this was literally a Mill Town (seems obvious, I know), founded somewhere around 1720, and next door to this town is Glassboro, you know, where they blow glass, seems simple enough, if you look around your own state such simple names pop out all over the place, and they tell you about the history (or lost history) of the area, there is Marlboro, no not a cigarette thing, the history goes back to the 1600s and the area became famous for… wait for it… “marl“, never heard of it ? me neither, but apparently it was the goods back in the day before commercial fertilizers came about, in fact there are other towns with the moniker, like Marlton, then you get into more obscure named things like “Furnace”,  this was a designation of a foundry or iron works, mostly in the pine barrens (you know, where the Jersey Devil is rumored to live), there is Weymouth Furnace, Hanover Furnace, Gloucester Furnace (eh, you get the idea),
…and then there is the colorful or animal themed ones like Red Lion and Hog Wallow, to the strange and mysterious like Ong’s Hat, even on to the ominous Double Trouble (seriously)
…anyway, my trip down south was quite uneventful, full of traffic, enraging traffic, did I mention traffic (where rte 42 meets 55 is mind-numbing), bleak black rain, cold rain but not cold enough for snow or ice, just the type that drips on your neck from some building corner or tree and chills your spine with a flinch, or smacks your ear on the dime, the town is quite barren but I was not in the town center to be fair… but the name of the town got me thinking, and writing, so many simple things in a name, all around us, especially in this area of the states, the original colonies, there is a lot of history here, and probably wherever you are, whether it be 100 years ago or 50, there is something hiding in the corners and cubbyholes of your state I bet, check them out when you get a chance… you might find something unexpected.

thanks for the look, the like, the time, if you like what I do or have any suggestions comments are always respected….

a first snow…

a first snow…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
adult beautiful christmas cold
Photo by freestocks.org on Pexels.com

there is always the ordinary, and mixed in there somewhere the not so, I was just walking outside to move my car, outside of work, to park where I am now allowed, as to not offend the local signs, vengeful as they are, the clouds are a gaggle of grey, no, more of a singular mob, one great mass of bland nothingness for as far as I can tell, I notice people walking down the side street that I do not recognize, the warehouse across the street, closed so many months ago that the near presence of life startles me a bit, why would anyone be walking down this street when there is nothing here? I suppose it does not matter, just the matter of moving my car literally fifteen feet to a more preferred spot, under a tree, which is nice in the summer, not so much now, walking back to the office, cutting through the lot where I was not supposed to park, I notice a couple, and then a couple more, slowly floating down, snow, actual flakes, the kind you dream of when thinking of it romantically, individual flakes, each with their own personality, you can read each one down as it goes by, flows and floats here and there, flakes the size of fifty cent pieces and seen just as rarely, so very few, to stand there and admire, and the background world fades for just a bit, I forget about the drab urban sprawl, the faded yellow lines in the asphalt of the local street, various plastic wrappers tumbling by my feet, a retreat, into the recess of my mind, the little spark of a child, that first time you saw snow and after, waiting for the snow to pile up, the fun, the sledding, the snowballs, falling down and not getting a hurt or a scrape, snow angels, running around until your outfit is soaked to the bone, peeling off layers, hot cocoa with those little marshmallows, all in this moment, just the trigger, these little flakes in slow motion all around, no sound to them, a little kid still bound to those early experiences, and then, a honking madman at the local left turn signal, apparently the cretin in front of them has not turned in sufficient speed for them, there are honks of courtesy and then those of unbridled rage, these were the later, my trance broken, I soak in one more moment of this perfect snow globe, and then, back to my desk, my daily home.

a quick prayer for a sunday night…

a quick prayer for a sunday night…

by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment
amazing astronomy background bright
Photo by Luck Galindo on Pexels.com

“my only hope is in the stars
to upload my soul upon release
so I may travel the walkway to god”

notes… my mind likes puzzles, and is constantly working on such things, I have trouble blocking out the ‘big one’ sometimes, that being our mortality, half way through life (I hope) there is no way to not consider it, that is, for an agnostic like myself, I would love the relief of belief but to date nothing has satisfied me, I used to be smug about it in my younger days, looking down upon those who are religious, I realized later that I do not have the answers so those who find theirs I am grateful for, it just has not happened for me, maybe never will, maybe it doesn’t matter, that is my struggle, really the one we all share regardless of how we got here, into this time, now, the idea of basically never existing, death, is daunting, to say the least.