how the familiar slips back on in such familiar ways, I am fighting the dread that I can feel creeping up my spine, to dive back into that 9-5, well, 9-5 on an easy day, the honking horns, the stop and forth commute, I want to remain like this, like a coil unfurled, springs hold and maintain tension, and I am good at managing that existence but the fatigue of constant bearing weight has perhaps been wearing me down these years, and only now, off a week of down time might I realize how unfurled I am now and how curled I am usually so inclined, I know it is cliche, to say a place is magical, but what is magic after all, something we don’t understand completely, maybe a better word is ‘solution’ as if to a puzzle, Scientist Cliffs is one of those places for me, maybe many others exist but that does not mean this was not meant to be, maybe this is like true love found just with a place with a soul for mine to meet, here, indeed, my mind was not lost navigating in the constant maze of problem solving, so lovingly overwhelmed as is my normal state of being, I would revel in the chaos, but at what cost? here, but here, quite quiet in fact, content to sit on a beach, listen to the waves gently crashing caressing the sands, watching the birds of prey hunting above the cliffs far overhead, studying the breeze as it caresses over the dunes and past me, just another piece of the earth to navigate around, I watch the dune grass bend back and sway and imagine I am doing the same, just an observer, and the waves, the constant, the waves, for whatever reason, this is the solution to my conundrums, my elixir distilled, that lets my fury of thoughts fade into simpler terms, no less complex but not a lightning nexus of constant bombardment, a quietness there, one I can internalize with each long breath and each slowing heart beat…
up on the cliffs, since there are no cities nearby, the night sky is alive, the moon dancing on the silent water waves some hundred feet below, upwards, galaxy dust and all the traditional constellations glowing, resplendent, the wonders above we rarely see with a naked eye in metropolitan new jersey, like all things this is indeed a temporary place, the constant grinding of the waves never ending erodes the cliffs, every year, inches to feet, the cliffs creep inward and with time will swallow whole, this place, probably long after I am gone, but I will have been a part of it at least, and I hope to take a part of it with me into the real world, at least the real world I inhabit on a day to day, so that is what I am trying to take away, as I return to my normal place, the workplace, that same space, how long can I maintain, how long will the echoes of the surf remain, so clear, so cleansing, so pure…
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notes… back from vacation, I am really into nature when I am out there so I was more quiet than usual, I loaded up a bunch of videos to my somewhat now decent Youtube account, I really want people to get a feel for Calvert County Maryland, wonderful place, I am not ahead of the curve, towns around this area seem to be exploding, and it is not too far from Washington DC, and also Solomons Island which is a resort in the summer (so I am told, I have never been). If you have any questions about the area, how to access it or anything, I’m game, just ask, I don’t post to hide things, I post to reveal them to all and every who might have interest or be of the same mind…. I will write more about Scientist Cliffs coming up, just a really unique place…
I want to run up that ruby lined ridge line on the back of that mountain of a cloud, right up to the moon, I wish to go there but know I never will, but how soon my romantic side forgets, the moon, sitting there framed in blue, is not quite in our sky, my logical side steps in to remind that the moon is in perfect orbit, locked in the cold black breathless death of space, a dead world, echoes of impacts heard in countless lifeless craters, traces of history of billions of years as if transpired just yesterday, as magical, as mystical as the moon may seem, the man, the moon, the dream, it is the dead end of all being, and what will be, for when life retreats or is drawn to another place, a lifeless husk will remain, dust, gravity no longer caring, losing it’s grip, so weak it becomes just a globe in another’s collection, so which do I choose? of my dual nature I lean to the romanticism of the world, the concept of the eternal, but there is that constant reminder in the sky, whether a sliver, a quarter or full glory, the fact that everything dies is not much consolation for the living, more like a rationalization that we all drive down that dead end road, logic is cold, hard to argue with a stone as words do not carve granite well, or at all, but I suppose what choice do I have but to drive on, forward, with hope, for the alternative, while more rational, more reasoned, more probable, leaves nothing on the bone and in fact no bones… at all.
music? I can not resist, I am a child of the late 80’s after all… so…
oh yeah, this post is part of The Porch Project which has no rules aside from me sitting out on the porch, days of the week? month? nah… just when I can, and thanks for stopping by, this little bus stop of my mind, I appreciate the time and eyes…. thanks.
there are these moments, tiny flakes of time space, hours of days, one of these, these times when I feel like I am living in past tense, moments that have happened before seem intensely ‘now’, or directly directing the now, overwhelmingly, a feeling floods me as if I have been running in place for years waiting for the past to change, or worse yet sitting in place as the world spins around me, past me, passing by, waiting for something, something that will never come, and the ability to rewrite – a wrong…
Photo by K Zoltan on Pexels.com
the day started out so nicely, with the starch definitely taken out of summer, a cool morning, barely 70 degrees, mail order blue sky, someone must have paid to have all the clouds removed for there are none, at least for now, the sun is warming instead of broiling, a barely noticeable ball playing hide and seek in between the full taller trees behind the house, everything is green, with a little tired at the edges brown, I take a moment to look around, take it all in as it were, mornings like these, makes you want to be rich beyond your wildest dreams so you could just stop, stay in place and experience every ounce, then, with your hands squeeze-twist the very confines of time to get every last drop out, but, like most of us, most of any who have ever walked this earth, I have to take what I can take, in this fleeting passing moment, with a shallow deep breath I take in what I can, trying to commit to memory this little slice of near perfection for later recall, knowing soon enough I will be back in the reality of the race, the pace, cars lining up like ants in an artery, all with our destinations and routines, all under the umbrella of such a perfect day, bills to pay, obligations to meet.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
so I am driving, the traffic is a bit lighter today, you never know when a holiday approaches how said holiday will encroach on your day, so perhaps my mind is off in another place, not distracted by the constant foot race to my brakes and then go stop go stop base routine, I wonder about things, the circumstances of a life, if they would have changed, would I be right here now wondering the same? these are times I wish my memories were not so vivid or clear, or perhaps to be so vapid as to not care, maybe ignorance is bliss, but I can not know of this, I wish for amnesia, will I be happy… or just unaware? I try and tell myself, comfort myself, convince myself, that I would rather have full awareness, to have clarion clarity, but at once I might still want to be an ostrich, and bury my head in the sands of time, how my life might have been different if this or that, the mental exercise, the gymnastics of a foolish mind and lost heart, and her, would we have changed our opinion on having children, and where has all the time gone as that decision now seems past any comprehension or contemplation… from where I am situated I do not remember the sand escaping my palms, slipping from my grasp if I grasped at all, blown scattered by the winds to the four corners of no recompense, and my hands feel empty, youth is fullness, youth is an overgrown garden of possibility inculcated with weeds, and as the years go, some flowers die, others are planted, some bushes manicured, others upgraded to fancier exotics, and not so suddenly the once wild jungle of opportunity has been whittled down quite nicely, quite on purpose, with purpose, at least at the time, no longer allowed to grow wild, everything has order now, the paving stones, the path all neatly appointed, and I look back, am I satisfied with what I have? or who I am? but there is no magic elixir in the face of time, no amount of thought or determination can catch even a second in a bottle, or snare a minute in a net, my thoughts seem shackled by the past, tension on the chains, my own doing, but there is no instructions how to steer this ship, how to set the sails of life into the headwinds of success, for as I cross the trade-routes and circumnavigate, like the great explorers, I come to know, to sail around, this earthly globe, I arrive back here, in past tense, all the same, but years now spent.
Music to read by… (when will you just trust me and click the links?)
welcome, dear traveler, to a not so distant year, let’s be arbitrary, since I can’t be proven wrong (unless Doc Brown materializes somehow), let’s say 2050 (closer than you may think in a blink), given the commercialization of space what will be the cost of freight ? the freight of… you? firstly there will be your DNA and maybe a bio page or two (perhaps some personal memento or two), shot out into the cosmos like so much a life(less) raft into an ocean vast(er) than we know, imagine your DNA blasted off into the cosmos and found in four million or 40 million years from now, and the technology exists to make a new you, beats the alternative, as they say, but we know people will not stop there, our DNA will be littering the universe I bet (perhaps that is how we got here on Earth in the first place in some form), like all things our appetites grow and the quest for the ever-life will vex all generations forward as it has all those past, a question of the matter becomes a matter of when in terms of mapping out the electrical patterns of our brains, especially with quantum computing flying ahead at such a breakneck pace, so questions about humanity will ultimately rise, will humans be humans without the physical interface?
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Non physical consciousness will allow us to venture into all manners of space (and the very depths of our own planet, imagine a vacation into an actual volcano, why not? or a little skinny dip in the mariana trench), population control will not be an issue per se in this maybe brave new world, your apartment will be your location on a memory chip, your choice of neighborhood might depend on how close you are to one of the core CPUs or a power supply nexus, at that point will we have evolved into AI, of ourselves? will hacking become a form of murder? even if you are just turning off a switch or pulling a plug, and who is left in charge, on the outside, the “fleshers”? the “living”, the “pre-comp”s as it were… What will social interaction be like when you have no form, will avatars be your body? and gender? there will not be any, or well, it won’t be needed, and would people choose to “die” early to transfer into the compu-realm, what if your soulmate dies, do you follow? Will there be people who fall in love with someone who has been “alive” for 400 years and decide to “transmute” into the digital? I really wonder how far away we are from such things, I bet we are much closer than we think…
and the whole crux of this thought was cheesy infomercials, because even something lofty will eventually be sold for “X” number of installments @ $19.95 (call now, the first 100 callers get a free slap chop and shamwow millennium edition)… but no one touches the king…
notes… yeah, I think about a mash up of stuff all the time, maybe my day consists of classical poetry, string theory and some quantum mechanics…. man can not live on verse alone.. that’s a pretty good tag line… maybe I could use that on a blog or something… hmmm…
music, going cosmic ambient because that is what fits….
Sometimes I see something and it is just a trigger for some lines, this would be one of those times, a simple thought, just spilled out of my gut, onto this page, how um, romantic, if not gross… but seriously this was just inspiration from a frame, some old wooden power lines stretched across the vast salt marshes of southern new jersey… which made me write this…
Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com
wooden power lines make me think of the plains and open spaces stretching prairies golden rolling fields wide winding roads that inevitably lead to the feet of mountains and the gateway of the west
notes… tonight I was at my cousin’s house, one block from the beach in Monmouth Beach NJ… seemingly I was watching a life I left, or was supposed to have, it isn’t that I am unhappy, but it is strange to observe the changing of generations, the “kids” I knew are now all young 20 something party animals, my cool cousins are now almost the older generation, my uncles and aunts are all 80 plus… life is strange, I am glad to observe it, I must have looked like a weirdo to them, just kind of kicking back and taking it all in, a watcher, no need to fit in, comfortable in my own skin but content to stand by myself, I must admit that I thought about her… how she would have been right next to me and I would have brought the bell to the ball in my mind and heart, I would gladly have had the most beautiful girl in the room, because she always was, to me, but I am happy for the others, my brother who is on wife three, my cousin from philly who has gotten back with a great guy (as far as I could always tell, and I am a good judge of character), a cousin with a new beau, her older sister with the same old who seems a new man when wall street leads to ocean views, and my uncle who’s birthday this was all for, let me be that when I am 80 and I will claim victory, but to look out, and see three generations of your family…. that must be something, I saw it, but I am not of it… but somehow I do embrace it even if I feel outside it at times…
(1)
I must admit I had all this weird anxious energy today, anxiety over seeing family? I suppose, I could not explain it to myself and then after much self inspection I just let it go, this was not my wedding after all, and frankly it is only a cousin (whom I love and watched grow up quite literally so don’t get me wrong about relation), I like to pride myself on preparation, or I tell myself that, so as usual I was doing some last minute scrambling today, things I had planned.. but… eh… had not quote gotten to as of yet, so about an hour before I had to leave I decided to get my ducks in a row, being the semi strange artistic type (wrapped in the guise of everyday guy) I eschew greeting cards and write something personal regardless if it will be read or tossed for the cashola enclosed in the envelope, I have seen and attended enough affairs to see how the cards come in, and how many of the same thing pass through, I want to be memorable, for at least a slice of this life, so I give it a try, I can not hand write letters.. well, I CAN but my handwriting requires translation, it is horrendous to say the least, so I need to type things out, (and also this poem if you recall, part of my gift to the lucky couple as well as some mo-net), I do not use my home printer too often, so perhaps it might be lacking in TLC… or any C, but of course the thing starts with this grinding noise, I start to sweat and my temp is rising, I panic, I want to scream, something is wrong here… and I do not have time for this (the realization that this could have been avoided if I didn’t wait until the last minute is not yet a humorous thought to me as it is now writing this), I open every door, blow out the sensors with one of those air thrower can things, and nothing… DOA printer, I can’t just buy some dumb card… I just… can’t! I recall I have a another printer, sort of shoved in a corner like so much a wallflower, it should work, I think, I hope, I pray to the inkjet gods (they exist, their temple is Staples), so I hook the badboy up and plug in the USB cable with trepidation, the seas parted, the light of one thousand lights shone down, puppies cuddled with kittens, and magically, with great glee my printer queue was emptied and my ears were treated to the sweet whir whir of an inkjet head purring back and forth, ah, crisis averted, my words will be delivered and all will be right with the world (in truth I used fancy parchment looking/feeling paper to print my poem on and it jammed a few times, but that is quite a boring detail so I’ll exclude it), so, poem and personal note in hand (and cashier’s check) I was all set to go.
(2)
I had to drive my folks up to the gig, they are up there in the age race now and do not drive at night usually, and my mom does not drive at all anymore actually, no big deal, they have done enough for me over the years (hello diapers, they got me there for now) that Driving Mr and Mrs Daisy parents is the least I can do, as I said earlier I like to plan, I also like to not be a slave to GPS and know where the heck I am going, oy, I forgot the little address card for the place on the back of which I scribbled (in my pictogram handwriting) the directions, it is a pretty straight shoot but… there is comfort in the paper you wrote all this down on, no problem, cool, I got this, I memorized the directions (because I am such a head case), I just hope my memory is solid, as it turns out my memory served me well, I still must admit my self doubt in the whole thing, I would rather have the life vest when sailing the ocean, but… I’m not in the ocean and honestly I could pull over and google the damn place (easy to say now when I am out of non man non embarrassment mode), so we arrive, Valhalla Lake Club, never heard of it, never been, a really nice part of the state (you know, the Garden state, damnit), seriously we have some sections of Jersey that people would not believe, and heck I am a bad steward for my state for not knowing every inch and cranny, either way, no valet, we are waiting there, the minivan in front is doing all sorts of things, we can’t pass by on the driveway as it is too narrow, wtf are these people doing ? minutes seem like hours in these circumstances, plus I have no idea what the parking situation will be like, I start to get frustrated, minutes pass, thoughts run wild trying to figure out what the hell is going on with these people in front of me, thankfully no one is behind me, that would have upped the ante and I surely might have honked the horn, tick tock tick tock, wtf is taking so long? and then it hits, life with a lesson interjects, the minivan lowers like in a rap video, and a gentleman is escorted out in a wheel chair, if there ever was a court case for patience and a jury to convict, it was this, I was glad I relaxed the temptation to honk, I mean really, how was that ten minutes of my life real pressure? or even worth a worry for a second, I must remember that, lesson received good earth.
(3)
the rest was standard fare, not knowing where to stand, where to sit, the club members who were enjoying the day on the lake were out enjoying the day on the lake, it seemed odd, all these dressed up folks and on the periphery having a day at the beach (lake) as it were, granted they have probably seen this show before, clearly the place needs to do this as part of their business model and probably helps keep membership prices lower, at some point, some of the members seemed interested and some seemed non plussed, as did those at the wedding proper, I kind of enjoy the awkwardness in moments now, not personally, but observing same gives me some weird pleasure, seeing life interacting I suppose, weddings are strange now, growing up there was clear religious definition, this was more just celebration of the union outside of any religious overtones or circumstance, ‘readings’ by a couple of relatives, bad poetry (sorry, I am a critic), and some other well intention-ed stuff that sounded like children banging on pots and pans to this jaded literary ear, I admit I am a snob at times when it comes to that, I try to see and hear the every-man aspect of things, but I just can’t all the time, I am just not that, we are what we are, so readings aside there were vows, and stories by the ‘pastor’ (well, he is really a friend of the groom/bride chosen to reside on the moment), my cousin and her mate are truly in love, I have been to many weddings, I have seen love in many forms (some I would wish to un-see from the internet but this is not a time for that), they glowed when together, I will not lie and say it brought a tear to my eye, I could perceive it, I could feel it emanating from them, I know it because I had that once, when love is easy, and just there, like the warm sun in the morning, this is where logic fails me, and faith takes over, or hope, or both, I feel the dream again, was this supposed to be me at some point? was this my dream? I am lost in the moment, no need to video this, I am here in this, really experiencing the moment, and I feel happiness and joy for them.
(4)
the reception phase, the worst part, I kind of liked the mix of the cocktail hour, no set pieces, a few food options (excellent calamari by the way), the bar cleared out after fifteen minutes so I could grab an amstel, we are outside by a lake in the breeze, what can beat that? now we are inside, cozy place, cool lighting, is that really the dance floor? this makes me feel the most isolated, I do not like the music, the boom boom typical tunes are just not me anymore (or ever), they are antithetical to everything I enjoy, I used to be that floor devil ripping up the dance moves, but I have zero interest in that now, and I do not want to pretend anymore, I don’t want to pretend for anyone, I am not unhappy at all, I am taking it all in, I am truly happy for my kin but the whole wedding thing, this whole wedding thing, I have been there and back again, seen it, done it, seen it better, done it better, what’s the point? I am truly happy for my cousin, but in this microcosm I just don’t get the whole slavery to the same thing, the same wedding tropes, I get it, it is probably me, I would have been much happier if after the ceremony they said strip down and everyone jump in the lake, paddle-board, kayak, sit by the fire-pit and shoot the shit… that’s more real to me, does not make it right, and regrettably is not good for the older generation who we must venerate because we are soon them, but I yearn for something different, even if, even if… this was my dream at some point, so who am I to suggest what they should do, at some point that dream was mine, meet the girl of your dreams in college, date for nearly a decade, become husband and wife, have kids… it all sounds familiar and now so foreign to me, I had the girl, I had the life, and then it all crumbled, and here I am, enjoying filet mignon (rare) at my younger cousin’s wedding, where did things go wrong ? or did they at all? I imagined her here with me, sharing this with her, as I expected to share everything with her forever, but that is gone, and maybe that showed on my face, because it is certainly what is in my heart, but again, I am an optimistic person, a happy person, but the celebration tonight felt so foreign to me, I just felt like an alien among people I knew, even my brother who I thought looked like a buffoon, but he is engaged and has found a mate, so who is the fool.
(5)
I drove my folks home, interesting conversations when they are both tipsy but also not so much as they are losing their edge of mind. and this leads me to this, this post, all scrambled out right now write now…
wrote all this just now, first draft, I’ll revisit it tomorrow, but it is close to accurate…
I listen for the distant cars, hoping they will turn down my street so I might know who they are, I stare out at the same view now as always, some might think it unremarkable, or what different things might I see in this common canvas, that I have not seen before, many times before, but I suppose that is the trick of the thing, the longer you look the more you are apt to reveal the nuances and subtleties you would not get on first glance or random chance.
I was out earlier than usual today-tonight, the robins are singing, not in unison, but individually like a one-up-man-ship contest (but in a cordial manner), much unlike the bickering they engage in when it comes to nightly quarters, the shadows of the leafs on my japanese maple are like dark diamonds dancing on my walkway, all because of the breeze, a little show for me or anyone who cared to pull up a chair to the attraction and pay a modicum of attention, pause the real world and just breathe for a second or twelve, so I sit, barefoot, as weather permits, a bumble bee does a fly by across my bridge like tom cruise, and I must admit I quite flinch and then grin at the ridiculousness of the situation, his only weapon is a suicide sting and I am this big bulky thing between him and pollen, his death blow would be mere inconvenience to me, certainly not a pleasant experience but certainly not worth the jumping apprehension I felt on first impression, it is good to catch yourself now and again, and examine your immediate reactions, the why behind that particular reflex… a little ant is making a run at my big toe, I feel revulsion, surely it is a strange sensation as it works it’s way above my nail, but against initial instinct I do nothing, I have better things to worry about (I tell myself), of course I am not totally sold on being out of the moment, I can’t seem to forget the little traveler now on toe number two, I look down and upon my feet and wonder… how many miles do I have on these things? and looking further wonder how anyone could have a foot fetish, to each their own I guess, the sun is fading, the world is turning into silhouettes in the rising dark, a lone bird on a lone wire, leaves, trees, all 2D cut outs now, a slight breeze flows across and brings peaceful calm, as the world slows, as the world slips… into sleep (for those not nocturnal)
(this is part of my porch project, so be it, and thanks for the read, I do appreciate it)
I sit here in that little nook of my porch, the corner where the porch meets the wall, kind of tucked behind the Japanese maple I planted so many years ago, after so many failures, after the birch was gone, the one I grew up with, that now seems like lore, captured only in old photographs, but here I am behind the tree once more, yesterday was a day of beating rain, the type that assaults and holds you prisoner, the storm has passed and moved on, out into the ocean now, along with the wild winds that carried, this makes the sun, even at this late hour, quite welcome to my skin, the sky is quite blue, just a couple of strange cloud formations here and there, more like disembodied puffs of smoke, I find myself mesmerized by how the breeze waves and sways the upper branches of the trees in the fading light, illuminates every crack and cranny in between, there must be a party across the street, a child’s birthday should I guess, they have a whole array of blow up landscapes, slides, and a castle, I think, but their fence is rather quite tall, so I can only enter a suppose of the all, better to yet, let my imagination earn it’s rent in this old head, I never saw such wonders at a local birthday party in my day, not to complain, I realize it is all quite relative of course, I am sure kids of today would not be so enamored by a roller rink, the ground round, or a crown from some fast food joint, the kids across the way are very loud, but honestly I don’t mind the sound, a reminder of where we all once were, living among pure wonder of the world, free of daily encumberment, I pause, can we ever put that good genie back in the bottle? And what of our three wishes, would they be even remotely the same?
“Captain Underpants! Captain Underpants!”
one of the little girls exclaims, I have no idea what it means but she is certainly enthusiastic about it, and there is an impromptu chorus sung of “We Are The Champions”, it strikes me as amazing to consider that children of that age (9-12 perhaps?) know this song, but I must pinch myself and realize they are grown in the internet age, where discovery is merely an instant away, sharing of art and song is merely a question of getting the suggestion, something 40 years old can be as relevant as something 40 minutes old, with both gone and wiped in another moment, or preserved, or forgotten.
This makes me wonder ,or perhaps more truthfully regret, this scene, will never be mine, I am nearly past the point where children might become a foregone non-conclusion, like everything else I do, maybe I have thought too much into it, planning, worrying, fearing, circumstance building, rather than seizing the living of my life, of course my logical mind can always rationalize, what is the point? They will all die, just as everything does, but I argue with myself, does that mean we simply give up? Or surely try to extract every ounce from this life we possibly can, until the canister of effort is driven empty or fate decides to drop in for that ultimate visit, I think, well, I want to will myself to be, to grab such fruit that I can, from that wisest tree, oh such, in this shortest span, I search for the strength and will of man immortal. (and I lay down my pen).
the master of ambient of my generation, this is pretty minimal but not too artsy minimal, it reminds me of sitting outside and letting the breeze wash over me, trying to become one with the landscape I am provided, and the life I am granted.
All likes, comments, recipes for chicken are all appreciated… as is your view now, I bow to you, the reader, thanks.
so, the wave has begun the first domino has fallen a generation to come – to an end. I have seen the wave coming for some time off on the horizon off in that inevitable ocean but so soon crashing upon the shore this is the way of things for we are mere pillars of rock hewn of sand drawn down and back into the surf from which we once rose in and out the flow of this life, we pretend to have some modicum of control ever looking at that horizon and the coming waves as they come for me surely, some day
notes: for a while now I know a certain portion of my family is at the cliff, at the precipice of that final step, it is a generational thing, I have been admittedly lucky that death has not visited my doorstep too often, my grandfathers both died before I was two, my grandmothers died at advanced ages not suddenly, that is pretty much it, but now… it is only a matter of time where I fear (know) they will be dropping like flies, I can not imagine what it is like for my parents who have lost friend after friend over the past couple of years, death is not a fickle beast, you can do all you want but she still comes for you whenever she wants, my folks are not in great shape, or of particularly long DNA stock but they are around to witness the deaths of all their friends, it is a strange thing, one we all do not want to imagine or even live in, but it is always there,the horizon seems far but is always approaching. So this poem is about that, my uncle who is gone now, some months, he was an intellectual in such a way that he ordered no funeral or even memorial, I understand that from a logical/scientific perspective, but maybe those things are more for the living than the dead… a moment in time to bring together a family to remember they are indeed family, maybe even if just for a moment, and perhaps bonds can be reborn, or remade, or started anew as the younger ones in the family are transitioning into the elders and having their own children, the conveyor belt runs better with connectivity, and that requires time set aside to be together… just a thought or thoughts…
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
I know, not my usual Saturday lighter musings, and the weekends are where posts go to die, I don’t care, I post what is on my mind, maybe it is because I had to wake up @ 5:30am today to go to work, Sam (the dog) gave me that look like “really dude? you are never up this early”, and of course she’s right, starbucks lasted until about 6pm then I passed out, back up again and writing this, so maybe my mind isn’t quite the same as usual, that’s ok, sometimes you gotta’ shake the tree and see what happens.
Music???? sure… not that you asked but damn I am a persistent mofo pushing what I love…
Simple and sweet, the vocals are just so friggin good, if you like 3 part harmonies and the Beatles.. well, this should be up your alley (except Doug has a better voice than any of the Beatles individually, I know blasphemy…). My cousin Renee worked in the city @ the time and sent me the CD with this track on it along with a signed poster, that had to be 1994, it made my year (thanks cuz!), and later I got to meet them many many times over the years, great peeps.
you warned me but I came anyway still unprepared and by the furies down the phoenix rain molten bullets perforate penetrate my mental armor leaving searing, smoking, holes and I thought myself ready to bear out my soul false bravado is a fire of cold fear would have been a sharper advisor but the time has passed for that as an empire is in ruins littered, broken doric plumes, in uneven piles with no fiddle to play or gambit to last I’ve lost, in pyres reflect here in the hopeless corners of the darkest men
Shades of My Garden 