‘parachutes’ …/

‘parachutes’ …/

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I can not explain the why of the exact thought, but when I think of sky diving, I think of a blindingly shiny aluminum plane with perfect rows of rivets, much like a vintage airstream trailer with wings, WW2 era propellers rumbling madly, making conversation mere bursts of short screams, one of those cool logos emblazoned on the side, an old cracked but comfy leather cap keeping my skull nice and warm before the plunge, no one else on board, at least in the jumping area, I suppose I am alone, aren’t we all when we enter into this doorway, a lighted path that delivers us here, into life…

waiting for your perfect time, instinct, guesswork, a push, who knows, seems like months incubating the decision, knowing that at some point you will have to jump, we all do, maybe we are already falling, I suppose they did not coin the phrase ‘terminal velocity‘ for nothing, quite tongue in cheek really when applied to this side of life, well, the only side we know and can discuss until, well the coin flips, or lands as it were, as all things must and all things do, standing there, waiting your turn, the door opens, the wind rushing in, you can not quite see the ground, just the clouds, funny I thought heaven was up, not down…
and then…
the release. . .
nothing is touching your feet… air is all around, a free fall for all in the throes of gravity, or the inevitability of gravity, you might catch a glimpse, of the ground that is, a free fall like a free will, indeed…

Photo by Francesco Ungaro on Pexels.com

I wonder how many parachutes I have left, cats seem lucky in that regard with their defined nine, magic in their spines, ‘three he plays, for three he strays, and for the last three he stays‘, I wonder if the same could be true for me, finding out for sure would be the daunting part, how many parachutes do I have? and why do others have none? a strange conundrum, for there are times that could have been my time up, but not prescribed, so not done, the randomness of the universe at large, all this molecule soup roiling in the cosmic cauldron of all? or a written plan, the invisible road, a string theory that leads to a thread distinct destiny for all the world, and in my years spent, in and out, thwarting death, once more I might reach for that cord, and find nothing left, might I make it to nine, like a fine feline, or perhaps be greedy and aim for double digits…

a thought about the pariah of panic…

a thought about the pariah of panic…

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…

Thoughts from the porch… (maryland)

Thoughts from the porch… (maryland)

Here is where I am… Scientist Cliffs, MD

white and black moon with black skies and body of water photography during night time
Photo by GEORGE DESIPRIS on Pexels.com

so here I am, admiring the moon across the water, shimmering sections of the bay hold my attention, I come back here every year, laziness, familiarity, perhaps, maybe I have found something that suits me, my personality, having the experience of being in the middle of nowhere but yet with slingTV, cable internet and a Starbucks fifteen minutes away, sure, that’s fair, but I am off the beaten path, even if that path is not but a stone’s throw away, the familiarity lets me decompress, the guess and the guess work has been removed, there is still plenty I could do or explore in these parts, just as in my own state there are corners and nooks I have yet to really route around in, I suppose I revel in the strange juxtaposition of this place, the cliffs produce fossils from the miocene era quite often, I am staying in a hand built 100 year old log cabin, and I am sitting here typing on my  dumbly suped up alienware laptop, whittling away at the meaning of life or at least mine, it all seems pretentious, sometimes I feel guilty, do I deserve this? do I feel guilt due to circumstance? perhaps, but how can we change the circumstance of how we are brought in to this world, all we can do is be empathetic, I say those words, but I do not know if I believe them 100%, although I should, the truth does not always set you free, maybe like many things I must practice in this, allowing myself to uncoil and feel able to embrace my life such as it is, I did not wrong anyone to have the things I have, maybe the world did, but I do not want to have blind thankfulness to that end, but tonight should not be about such things, I need to clear my mind, feel the subtle gentle wisp of wind, cold dew on the bottom of my feet, I have to decompress, let all the stress from work seep out into the ground, let the moon’s light cleanse me as I lose myself in those ripples down on the bay, soak up each moment and forget myself for a time, deep exhale, the world moves on regardless, this is my time to become lost, for a few days, not quite separated from the race, but enough to recharge and renew, it all begins with the view, and the immediate effect I feel…

you can check out the views of Scientist Cliffs on my YouTube channel, I am uploading the moon vid right now, it is taking some time, I should be posting some nice vids this week from my new 4K go pro style cam… or at least that is the plan…

thoughts from the porch… (surprising labor day edition)

thoughts from the porch… (surprising labor day edition)

brown and green grass field during sunset
Photo by Jonathan Petersson on Pexels.com

labor day, the traditional death of summer, everyone rushes in like an orgy of decadence to have the last hurrah, the last dance, on the last day, school begins next week, so seemingly the season of play is gasping for breath, the last stand of the ph warriors who battled chemical balance in their pools all summer long, for this payoff, as the door is closing, I know, in my mind, or in my rational side, that time has a singular pace but I will still swear on my grave there are times when time speeds up or down, always the contrast of what we feel is true up against what we ‘know’ as truth, there are already early casualties of the seasonal war, leaves already yellowed, scattered about my lawn, how quickly the summer is gone, like the rest of everything else around me I will cling to every bit of the warm sun, and absorb every last of molecule of heat, from which I can…

assorted lighted string lights
Photo by Tejas Prajapati on Pexels.com

this is not a quiet night, in fact my immediate neighbors, to my right, are throwing quite the party, like they should need a permit loud party, the street is lined with parked cars I do not recognize, my neighbors have white balloons tied to their mailbox, to mark the spot even though everyone has GPS today, on their phones, or otherwise devices, I think to myself, such is the cycle, the cycle of life, a celebration of life just next door, and yet literally three houses down they continue in mourning of passing, and me here, dwelling, veritably in the middle of both, I suppose that is a midlife crisis? being between birth and death equally, seeing so clearly both wherever I may roam? I do not know… and I suppose no one does.

 

garden sunset sunrise lens flare
Photo by Anders Kristensen on Pexels.com

I am not certain what type of party this is, somewhat formal, guests dressed in sunday best as far as I can tell, bottles of wine and platters of food in tow, they have a live band, so I imagine it is an occasion of some importance, the band seems to be playing the standards, I am guessing, it is all in vietnamese, but I thought I heard a rendition of “daddy’s little girl” in there, maybe it’s a wedding, white balloons and all… there is a little cadre of the neighbor’s friends or relatives on the front porch, away from the party, grabbing a smoke, some drinks, probably talking shit about the ones in the main gathering out back, I know this group well, I’m usually one of those self righteous rebellious comrades, too cool for the main room, or backyard, in this instance, but I must realize and admit, it is my own inadequacies and lack of comfortable self that makes me break off, as I do, into the smaller group, where I can exert more control, avoid my own failures and flaws instead of accepting them whole cloth, and wearing them proudly back into the fold, proclaiming me, but maybe sometimes I also think, I do not truly belong, both truths can be true, a married couple of ineptitude in my soul…

light landscape nature sky
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

as more guest arrive, their long shadows almost stretch and touch me from the sidewalk, these last lights of the day, bending into a celebration, I notice myself in the moment, I am uplifted, I do not know any of the words to any of these songs, not even the language, but somehow, there is translation in the sentiment, perhaps this is latent memory taking the wheel, I have been to many affairs and parties over the years, just not my own, so maybe this is why I know the feelings so well, I guess that is why I feel so relaxed and comfortable now, sitting here alone, on my porch, enjoying a celebration of life, quite outside my own, knowing this is all life, the cycle of loved ones and dear friends, come and gone, celebrations, gatherings, moments, come and gone, these we hold on to, we need to hold on to, each other while we are still here because even within my block, all the reminders of life’s start and end, stay very near.

Notes… this is endemic of my Porch series, I was out there tonight, observing, and writing, and enjoying the world…

thoughts from my porch, on the eve of holiday…

thoughts from my porch, on the eve of holiday…

light painting at night
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

(music to read by, soft acoustic, trust me, and part 2)

be a cliche, today was that summer day, hot, sun bearing down, blacktop hot enough to burn bare feet, I think my plants have adjusted too well to this year’s heavy rains, they have become accustomed to what seemed always available @ immediate now, so we share that weakness of assumption in the snapshot, so, just a mere two days without storm and they all look thirsty, sagging in the swelter, not wishing to see them suffer further, and quite proud of my shiny green thumb, I unreel the hose, and let loose the valve, left squeak, left full turn – squeak, left full circle – stop, I hear the flow rush of the water filling up the coils, I reach down to grab the the iron spray-head, forgetting it was sitting in the blistering sun all day, and damn it’s blazing hot, I juggle and fumble just to squeeze the thing to get the cold water going, I spray my hands immediately, sweet relief, I shower my bamboo, my pride and joy plant wise, my personal banzai, really, each year as it grows into a bigger ball, some of the water hits the driveway, and turns to steam immediately, and there is that smell, not of water, of the chemicals and minerals in the water, escaping as gases in the steam, definitely metallic in nature, one of those smells that remains utterly distinct in life, lake water, charcoal on a fired up grill, the first cut into a ripe pineapple, technology does not seem to touch these things, they were the same and are the same for a hundred years, to generations of summer culture.
So, this is a holiday, seems like another day to me, admittedly I expected much more noise outside than this, it is rather quite calm, maybe the heavy weight of the sun has beaten the starch out of life a little today, and the world is in resting phase, but I am sure, on the night, will come the fireworks, to light the sky, mark the occasion, scare my dog, overtures and songs, a holiday throng when fireworks are certainly foreign born.
For me, nothing is different tonight, just sitting here contemplating life, fate, the past, the future, what it all means as if I have the means to solve this puzzle in the first place, as the sun sits between the V of two branches, I understand how holidays can isolate, make you feel lonely, all the joyous sounding around, and you are not part of it, of course some of that is by choice, yes I must confess I am not the social butterfly I once never was, has this past year been better, yes, by slow standards, although change happens all around us all the time, inner, personal change does not seem up to speed, the relics of the past, deeds, memories, they are bindings much stronger in comfort than landing first foot in the new world, landing, with wonder, and fear, will that new land be as “good” as the old I left (or should have fled), the fear, even if home was built on the cold stone face of misery, misery loves comfort, for even the walls of a prison can become familiar horizons, to the point where beyond those walls no longer matters, this is why I struggle to construct pillars of reminder, the truth is rather easy and consistent in most things, we know what is right, what must or should be done, in our deepest well lurks the truth, what we know, that our days are quite literally numbered, there is a countdown as to which we are bound but not allowed to witness, but we know of it’s existence, do we all live in the moment, as if this may be our last minute? do I? maybe this is my reminder, my map, my guide, taking the time to let the “important” world slide away and just consider thoughts in writing, and maybe the rest will arrive, in it’s own time, trust not in despair, you know what is there, trust in the fact, that you are alive, you have a choice, choose the nuptials of love and hope, whenever you can, fail, more than succeed, likely, but it is apparent, that for most of us, this was never meant to be easy…

oh yeah, this is part of my ongoing porch project thing… just me, sitting out there, playing guitar more lately but also with my little notebook scribbling all this, I wonder what my neighbors think….

More, musings from my porch…

More, musings from my porch…

white clouds
Photo by Luis Quintero on Pexels.com

(music to read by)

how would I know if I am hallucinating right, now, or dreaming, or is this my mind interpreting the stimulus around me as best as this evolved design can handle, I suspect there are mathematical equations in the leaves, calculable variables in the way each blade of grass has sprung – and not sprung, am I really seeing this the same as you, on a physical level? how can I ever know, I wonder if I might borrow your eyes, ears and tongue someday, to experience the world truly by the only true thing, comparison, how do I know something is “more” green of I have not seen the other green, or many green.
I wear glasses, does it make the world clearer, or alter my designed perception as extracted from the DNA pod of my mother’s womb, all those year’s ago, was I meant to see the world near-sighted all this time, so my imagination of far things would be, just that, imagination, why is there higher value in rote homogenization? or should we embrace what makes us less perfect or same average in pursuit of our own perception of this reality? a unique perspective from a seemingly similar vessel.
I stare deeply at a flower, it is not moving, but -it -is, at some basis, there are millions of particles that make up one petal, and they are in petal in perpetual motion, I just can not see this movement, so, in this we assume the whole as solid based on observation, or at least our perception of solid, not concerned that we are definitely not seeing what is actually going on, the reverse would be true if we were a speck on the moon, looking down at the earth, no idea about the billions of humans moving about, but surely that micro world is vivid and alive, not dead as it looks from this above, so perspective, time, location determine which version of the world we see and to what extent, as it spins blindly under our feet.
so, am I hallucinating?
I’ll never know…


photo of a laptop on top of table
Photo by rawpixel.com on Pexels.com

notes: My SSD died on my incredibly fancy laptop yesterday, left me in a lurch as I was on call for work today, the irony is that I wanted an SSD for a few reasons: reliability, space and cost, in short, not to be totally tech nerd, SSDs have no moving parts, so in  theory they should have less risk of failure than standard hard drives, offer plenty of space in a small form (they basically look just like memory chips),  and also cost less, so a $120 part halted my whole operation, it is warrantied no doubt but still the computer is only just over a year old, and it has barely left the house, serves me right for always coveting an alienware PC (now owned by Dell really), I guess being an old school PC guy (my first computer was an apple 2C fer crissake), alienware was always this thing, I have built my own desktops for some years now, I should have stuck with that… although I have to say all the bells and whistles on my alienware laptop are pretty damn cool… and the 17 inch screen is super nice (4K), so, today I dropped $600 on an acer nitro 5, pretty nice, I’ll keep it until my front line laptop is back up, and probably give the acer to my niece or nephew as random gift, have I gotten into that before ?  I like to buy them things, not ever on their birthdays, I don’t do that, I buy things when I think about them, and I tell them so, does it matter ?  I don’t know… but I have grown tired of the usual a long time ago, so I do what I want for the most part these days, or at least I am telling myself that, true happiness might break some eggs, the world, and life will surely go on…

the transformative nature of nature (and clouds, at least this occasion)

the transformative nature of nature (and clouds, at least this occasion)

golden hour
Photo by Nur Andi Ravsanjani Gusma on Pexels.com

(music to read by…)

there are some nights where I can just watch the clouds, flowing by like a lazy, winding river through vast swaying grassy plains, slowly pushing – towards the east in procession, yet another part of the sky is more like a river of smoke, shadows of random forms of no form at all, the pace, the pace, the pace is hypnotic, slow but methodic, the only break, breaks are the occasional diamonds and triangles of a solitary bird flight off to some local destination, here and there, but mostly this is all encompassing one long lone exhale, I am gradually forgetting the day, the work, the traffic, it is all dropping off somewhere behind me, as I stare, and contemplate – the very air, the atmosphere itself, letting enough space in the space between my molecules, my atoms expanding and rising until I am that loose connection of clouds, slowly, calmly, meandering, wandering across that evening sky, sliding up over like a blanket being tucked for a child’s lullaby, before the sleep, I’m at ease, floating freely, loosely, high above the grandest trees, as a cloud, a river of gas of varying degrees, I’m at peace, I am part of the world no matter how small a piece, I am at peace.

this is part of my porch series… just sit out on the porch and let things flow… barefoot in shorts these days as the weather has been a friend… tonight’s musical selection (linked earlier) is Eric Johnson – Arithmetic,  a mellow tune, a nice sentiment, fit my mood…

as always, your thoughts, insults, barbs, thanks, likes, suggestions, they are all welcome, I take requests… whatever that means… (I guess I will hash that out when a request comes in….)

I call these “thought poems”…

I call these “thought poems”…

person wearing blue jeans sitting on bench
Photo by Bas Masseus on Pexels.com

5.14.2019
the terrors of the night
they come for me
night after night
they come for me
but yet, I survive
so do they even exist
anywhere but my mind

5.15.2019
I shadowbox at night
admittedly
not quite the fair fight
but my desire to win
has become-
addiction


notes… I call these thought poems because, well, I felt like it, damn, that does not seem like a valid reason, hold on… (pacing), I think these are like haiku in intent, meaning to deliver a feeling or a thesis where not all my poetry endeavors to do (man that sounds so much better), sometimes I am just a distiller trying to distill, because that is what distillers do silly. I must be daffy, it is one of those weeks, work is bonkers nuts and my home laptop SSD drive is dying/dead, I had to take the thing apart tonight to recede the drive, my crazy insane dork laptop crippled by a SSD… hah… ah, life is ironic.

music notes
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

music to contemplate by (as I am known to do…)

>>> Minus the Bear – Pachuca Sunrise (live in studio)

this will always be my beach/ocean song, I was in the keys when it came out just watching the aqua blue waves roll in with thunderstorm clouds spotted and rattling in the distance, I can not describe how surreal it was, sitting there, my feet dangling off the dock into the warm waters of the gulf stream, translucent glistening surf in moonlight, lapping waves, cracking thunder, palm shadows… and this tune…

tonight’s view from the porch…

tonight’s view from the porch…

sunglasses sunset summer sand
Photo by Nitin Dhumal on Pexels.com

Walking barefoot in the sun, I feel once again young, as if I am looking down at my feet and seeing a child’s body, my body, walking in the sun, a t-shirt and shorts, destinations and appointments give way to innocent desires and pursuits, this feels like the summer I remember in my bones, the warm laziness that calms all membranes, the quelling of all senses, for a moment I utterly bask.

I park my car under a tree, so, things happen in the natural order of things, so I figure I might hose it off as I just had it proper washed on friday, so in the midst of aiming to knock off the bird presents for a moment the hose jerked up, and the breeze picked up, mist sprays into the air almost like slow motion each drop frozen shimmering in the sun, misting me up the legs up my arms and my face, there is immediate revulsion but then a hugely wide smile, there – I am taken into an immediate transfer back in time, I’m a child, with other children, running through a lawn sprinkler on a day just like this, so vivid I can hear and taste the moment, how the water felt on my skin, the belief that we could jump through unwashed or untouched, ‘oh that next jump’, the pure hope of children, such a simple thing, more memorable than some fancy vacation to a posh destination, there is more in slices of life like that than can ever be paid for, the simplicity of a hose attached to a fan sprinkler and the mad dash to jump over them (to be nimbler than jack), such distilled existence, purity of joy and fun with nothing attached to it, no expectations, just the next moment, maybe that is the problem with adulthood, all these outward layers we collect bear us down, in that it is like everything else, you pick up things as you travel, you fill your house, and unless occasion or circumstance demands you to down-size… will you?

I am not saying strip down your clothing until you are a child again, that would be a simplistic thing and I would be a fool doctor to prescribe such a prescription, but maybe take a look around and see what actually benefits and supports your life – and what does not, be that a trinket or a person or a person of trinkets, try to mine down to the things, that are the purest version of your thoughts, you will know them when the shovel hits them, for now I want to go walk in the sun some more, letting my toes explore the lawn, step on an itchy ball or three, let my skin absorb the sun to the point of just sweat, and maybe.. maybe find a sprinkler to jump through (and hopefully not break a leg)

(I escape tonight, with a smile and filled with satisfaction)

this is part of my porch series… early afternoon edition in this case…


musichumanmeshdance “thesecretnumbertwelve”

give it a chance, it is hypnotic…

superstition (and a poem about said subject)

superstition (and a poem about said subject)

black and white cat print textile
Photo by Benjamin Daniel on Pexels.com

I saw a black cat
cross the path
but not the one
in front of me
a side street
still in my view,
but I wonder
I pause,
will my luck
fare just the same

notes… I would love to say I am …so… above the odd superstition, but I would be lying, I try to be logical about it but sometimes that is just a scratch you have to itch, perhaps going to lane 12 instead of 13 for EZ-Pass… guilty ! even though I am not a triskaidekaphobiac (truly one of the greatest words in the english vernacular), so this is really a true story in poem form, just me driving home the other night and out of my right eye I spied a black cat (or did I? hmmm?), and somehow this little troll of suspicion of apprehension… of superstition whispered in my ear…


photo of electric guitar and drum set
Photo by Wendy Wei on Pexels.com

Music… going with a classic here (and sort of obvious!)

Stevie Ray Vaughn – Superstition

Some Housekeeping notes… I updated my Collections & Series page, linking to my Essays and such, so if you think my poems suck (that’s cool) you can skip to what you like (I am damn accommodating). Also I am in full on Game of Thrones mode on my media page, I tend to write copiously when I am passionate about things.  Plus I will review movies/shows you probably never heard of.  I have diverse tastes to say the least.  So shameless plug #2 (media page!!!).  and for the hell of it… more SRV, damn he made that guitar sing, I hope to pull up a chair at his table and have a drink with him when this is all done.