remnants of the first snow
still upon the ground
half moon surrounded by moonlit shroud
the land’s last hope of holding onto the sun’s kind warmth
departs- with a sigh
now we must submit holding on
wrap a blanket, hold you close
stoke a fire, to crackle and roast
embers rise up the flue
or dance and curl
as the embers bloom, and decay
falling apart as the night longs on
holding their energy for as far as long
the tv flickering six feet past. eyes close.
now will be the mornings of frozen lawns
frost to cover grass and glass of cars
but for now
curled up to sleep
awaiting, counting, sleeping dreaming
to survive the season, the silent schemes of the longer shadows
as one day this will no longer be a metaphor
as one day will come and close the door.
Notes… I reference a quantum star (aka naked singularity), so I am playing with some concepts there (science, time and gravity). but even such magnificent stars have a lifespan as us all, but my short eternity will be hers, because that is all I know.
Stephen Marley was supposed to play tonight in NYC.. and I surely wanted to go before snowmaggedon hit us… 555 accidents reported in NJ to the state police in the first 2 hours of the storm… insane, I actually stayed at my office in Hackensack until 9 (I snuck out down the street (on foot sorry for the poor bastards stuck in their cars – been there) with a coworker for some Cubby’s which made all the difference tonight)… all that said it still took me until 11 to get home, I’m beat man… hope you like the post, if not, I’ll suck it up and come up with something better (well… hopefully but I am an optimist after all). And if you read all this ramble, hey, thanks (pretending to shake your hand, or tip my cap, or raise my glass, or sacrifice a live goat.. woah.. calm down now…)
note… let me know if you get it (or how you get it), or if you read it different than how I wrote it, I am not you, I can’t be (that would be weird… c’mon now you are creeping me out), but I am curious how other people read this. there is a bunch of ways, is this a statement ? or a question ? or both…
Thoughts and cinnamon buns are appreciated. As well as follows (just not around my neighborhood, I would have to call the local authorities…)
Good evening (or other local time appropriate greeting for you), I bring you a true story, a tale, a hero’s fable (well… ok maybe not that nearly that fantastical), this ’tis the how and why I broke a bone, the only bone I’ve ever known to break in all these years sloshing about the deck of my titanic life (so far dodging the icebergs somehow, maybe global warming is a friend in port?), so, the first question you may ask (or I may imagine you may ask) or maybe the first question I think you should ask, “hey man, what in the world is a Hippity Hop ?” for those in the know this giant dog chew toy was a wonder of wonder in the youths of those children of the 80’s (of which I am an inducted member, maybe even an elder of same – at this point), but anyway, a hippity hop was a mode of transportation before the segway came about (or that information highway thing I have heard such things about), and like all things such modes of transport evolve, I quite imagine that perhaps they are outlawed now, especially given the story of horror I am to import (at great personal peril to my 10 story pride), but with a quick click through my local yellow pages, ahem, I mean search engine they most certainly do still exist (they did fancy them up a bit from the simple red/blue option I had), so basically you plant your butt on this oversized dodge-ball of a thing, grab the ring and then transmute yourself into some sort of kangaroo hybrid (sans pouch, and tail, at least in my case, that is), so yes, I did not have fruit ninja, or an ipod/pad/phone, all we had was … “i”… (and somehow we managed through the boredom, I suppose it is all relative as if I was born in the 1800s I might have been churning butter for fun…), so anyway, where the hell am I? where the hell was I? so… these lovely bouncing things… sure they were fun, but like their far distant cousin removed three times the lawn dart… there is danger lurking in the ramparts, unseen evil forces that can guide these seemingly harmless rubber rapscallions turning them into destructive ICBMs (individual contact bone missiles), so, maybe you see where I going, I am trying to drive and get my damn map app to work… so bear with me, the setup: I was a young lad once, only once, and my parents imprinted on me (ahem, demanded) that I need to be gainfully employed if I wanted to buy things, with, you know, that money stuff (the nerve of those abusers!), so at a very young age I got what jobs I could, for the scope of this story I will spare you the litany of things I did for money (geez, that sounds really dirty, but thankfully nothing of ill repute ever came upon my petute), so I took a job as a camp counselor at the local YMCA (actually a JCC that became a YMCA, but what’s the difference?), it was a simple lot really, just watch some 7 year olds for a few hours during the summer and make sure they didn’t get hurt or do anything incredibly stupid (because a 14 year old is certainly qualified, obviously), so all was good, the little demons, ahem, I mean angels were so well behaved that Alcatraz would probably not take them, nothing crazy but I lost count of the ripped shirts from the ole “pile on david” game that they so loved, that much I could handle, but then… always insidiously lurking in the shadows, so friendly looking, almost a bouncing emoji (before there were any)… those damn Hippity Hops, plotting, waiting for the moment, the overthrow, the rebellion, to unleash their unholy hell of bouncing rubber asunder upon my innocent frame… I must pause for a moment to gather my thoughts to clearly recount the trauma… one of our (and by our I mean my little brood of monsters) daily activities was hopping about the gym on (you guessed it) Hippity Hops, ok, no harm no foul, been there done that, and then, came the moment when the evil plan was hatched from their nascent idea egg, I was not paying much attention when it happened, I mean who would expect it? through a sheer act of possession one of my minion hopped off her hippity hop and grabbed the ring like some naturally gifted olympic hammer thrower, spinning round like a tempest, no, like a full on F-5 tornado, unleashing a rubber projectile in my direction without notice, in slow motion I watched as it bounded toward me, I thought nothing of it, not knowing the sheer force of evil behind the gentle looking rubber, I recall it bounced once with that signature true sound like when you perfectly kick a kickball in a game, that “thunk” (and the satisfying feel of your foot sinking into the thing as it recoils and explodes outward to the outfield), so I heard that sound briefly, this moment was the calm before the storm, as it were, with pure lion instinct I reached out to grab the until now innocuous bouncy thing of joy, and then… it happened, in that brief moment, the hop bounced in such a way, as if guided by the lord of darkness himself, up to my outstretched hand, and hit, as if in perfect measure and intent, my middle finger, the transfer of energy traveled down, into my palm and there found a home, at the time it did not seem like much, maybe a jammed finger ? which I had endured a thousand times in basketball, but ah hah, the hidden damage, I returned home in discomfort, but not knowing the damage done. fast forward 2 hours, my hand is a balloon, or more really a surgical glove looking appendage that someone pumped air into (too much air), at this point I had to enlist the parents (hey, I was 14, alright?), off to the local hospital type place (well, actual hospital), X-rays and the usual, my hand was broken, my heart was sunken, I was taken out by a hippity hop, a rubbery drive by by a 7 year old. my pride ? broken as well, my answer to those who asked about my cast? “you should’ve seen the other guy”
Moral of the story… they say the devil is in the details, I disagree, the devil is in the pigtails…
I appreciate all shares, follows, feedback and pies… well actually, I hate pies, my taste profile is bitter, sour and spicy flavors, so I appreciate pies of scorpion peppers and broccoli rabe.. um, ok, that’s gross most likely, I appreciate your eyes, on my words, that much is true, so… thank you.
winter is certainly more than a visitor now, the last heroes of the fall have succumb (even the stubborn ones), so many familiar things, I’m noticing, more these days, paying attention to the details (always the details), wading through piles of leaves, kicking up my feet, much like traipsing through the surf as I churn, that distinct sound – of the dry death in dry leaves, the sweet breath of decay suspended in the cold air, such a unique scent, like the blooming of flowers in spring, this is the signature of the fall, held so still around my ghostly breath, the flashes of red and yellow now turning into brown, and then near nothingness, dormant stars to hide in the earth, burying luminescence, life is retreating into a cocoon, we, the overseers, as it were, pursue – the vast importance of our daily lives, but at least the coming of the cranberry holiday can give us pause, to say thanks, and pause to look on the world’s comings and goings as a lesson, to hold on to the remains of a dying year, to remain to hold those we hold dear, and to remember above all, love is life – and we are alive, give thanks.
Literally first light, around 6:45am this morning in Scientist Cliffs, Maryland, of course my last day on vacay has the quintessential sunrise I am used to @ the cliffs, getting me up that early is a miracle on most days but I must admit I was energized seeing the sun rise up over the bay, I have video as well of the literal rising sun, post that tomorrow most likely, even in the burgeoning cold this was a sight to behold, and it sums up why I trek here year after year, not to sun worship on a beach, to see scenes like these, it reminds me of why life is worth living, even if alone (for now), how can such a site not make you know.
I am off for the week, thrilled to be in one of my favorite places on the east coast, Scientist Cliffs, MD… Sure, the weather is not being cooperative (rainy) and driving down I got stuck behind an accident on 95 that had the highway shut down to one lane, but there is something about this place that speaks to me, this is not some resort/tourist area (unlike Solomons just south of here, plus this is not far from Washington DC), in fact all the locals think I am nuts when I tell them I am on vacation, some even recognize me as that guy who they see every year around this time (if you read any of my blog you can tell I am a different bird so no news there), I am not near any major city which for someone who lives in the shadow of NYC is a treat (to actually see the stars and even cosmic dust/galaxies @ night).
This area is known for Miocene era fossils, you literally just walk the beach and find shark teeth half the size of your hand (see some I have found here), man, in Jersey I have to dig and sift for hours to get teeth half as impressive, also this is a completely private area populated originally by scientists (um, hence the name) and one of their requirements was that the homes are log cabins (literally), now these days that requirement has relaxed a bit (the people I rent from call the house next door a McMansion – it is more modern and they only come here on the weekends), but for the most part 80% of the homes are log cabins or at least very rustic, the particular place I rent (the only rental actually, everyone else lives here) is about 100 years old and was built by hand by the patriarch of the family I rent from… they left the cabin as is (they raised their kids here), so it is like renting from family, all the old photos, kid’s art etc are all here on the walls including a deer head mounted on the wall, which creeps me out late at night honestly, there are these gnarly paths down to the beach as well (I am 100ft plus feet above the bay – which makes for amazing sunrises – my photos here), so last night was my first night here and I just had to go greet the bay, to hear the sound of the waves crashing up against the cliffs, I love the sound, it really just calms me, as violent as it actually is, such a natural rhythm plus the wind, it doesn’t need to be a summer or warm, just the tide is alright by me, so as I was saying earlier there are these totally crazy paths down to the beach carved out of the ravines hiding in the spaces of the cliffs, so last night I filmed my walk back and posted it on Youtube… someone should film a horror flick here, all I need is some creepy breathing or music.
I usually do not write creatively when I am here, although I have been reborn as of last april (I don’t mean religiously, I just felt different after an event in my life, that’s all). I keep journals on me all the time, my car, my backpack etc. So I kind of expect I will write some stuff, but I am not going to force it, well… that is my goal, all we can do is go forward ya know ?
So anyway, I had a rockfish gyro tonight, I don’t especially like Feta cheese, this had Feta, which, to be honest I could have asked before I ordered it (the dish turned out to be very good), but I wanted to get something different than I usually order @ Stoney’s (seriously the crab cakes are just heavenly), but I will go back and order what I usually do, the neptune platter (an assortment of broiled seafood), of course I racked out first with a 6 pack of raw oysters, and I learned something, they serve raw oysters with:
cocktail sauce
horseradish (diced up separate)
lemon
lots of crackers
So… I love raw oysters (actually I prefer clams) but the crackers threw me… what the hell are they for in this application ? So I asked the bar maiden who told me people eat the oysters on the crackers (I thought maybe they crumbled the crackers over them?)! So strange to me, I have had oysters up and down the east coast from New Hampshire to the Carolinas… I have not seen this particular application, ever, I guess I never paid attention here as I have been coming for years but kind of cast off the crackers… did I try it their way? no… I like to taste the oysters, the brine, the grit, I chew them, I like to know the flavor of the water in which they grew, and in this case they are so mild growing in a bay, I was just recently in Cape May and of course the best oyster there is the Cape May Salts, and they taste of the ocean, which I dig, but these were also great, so clean and light, a little smaller than some but a little Tabasco, lemon, and cocktail sauce on the quick dip, and let them melt in your mouth, that is where it is at… well, at least for me, and well, this is my blog after all… will I try the oysters “their” way.. hmmm maybe, I have to be open but I know what I like, maybe just one out of a dozen I might sacrifice to these heathens…
I post some less complicated thoughts or poems on the weekend, it’s my trend, my thing, my jam, my (insert overused cliche of your choice here), so without further bent…
edit 1:33am, just noticed that if you look at the content I went from love, to sex, to jelly… that is all I am going to say… figure out the rest yourself if you get my drift. It was totally not on purpose, that is the crazy thing, maybe it was sub-conscious?
So apparent in the turn of seasons, I lived in south Florida for some time and the seasons definitely don’t have the same flair, much like skin things just get olden and golden (like worn leather) over time down there, palm trees with xmas lights are surely a strange site, I guess being born in the North US I just got used to the passing of seasons, seeing the great burst of spring, the roiling of summer with the lure of the shore, and the eventual fall into winter (barest of all). So, I totally forgot I wrote this little poem, again, sometimes you just write something and like it, maybe not my best thing, but it is surely a piece of me laid out in my little notebook in my god awful handwriting…
“born again” 8.28.2018
is there a cleansing pool
in which I may drown and emerge
upon the other side
washed of you
is there a prancing fool
who believes such things
staring back in the mirror
he surely is
no chains, no binds, no bonds,
nothing to break, but might I wake
with a clear conscience of mind
one time –
to see a new day, with these weary eyes
as light bends on the back of morning land
reaching out with new warmth
to begin again –
rebirth.
Music to contemplate life to ? Yeah, I got that covered… some lovely ambient musings.. check out “sutra spin” also, one of my all time favorite ambient albums (it is more active ambient if ya get my groove)
Shades of My Garden 