as I sit here huddled in a hotel room in Elmsford, NY (for work), I try to be positive, well, I must admit the hotel is nice, no complaints there, the weather outside? eh, we were supposed to get this crazy storm, turned out to be a normal one, it’s cold to be sure, snow on the ground, that heavy wet snow that can’t decide if it wants to melt away or just fall into your car in heavy avalanche sheets the second you open the door (happened), I don’t hate the winter, there are times the snow hangs out on the tree frames like a perfect frozen gallery, it catches the light, and is quite beautiful, but not to drive in, not with people up here bearing down up my rear end as they are much more accustomed to driving these parts, man the anxiety builds, being stalked followed so closely when the two lane road becomes one, and one with ice, crunching under my tires seeking the dashed lines mostly obscured, I talk to myself as if the two bright lights behind me can hear me, “what are you doing? where would you like me to go?”, I have all wheel drive but I still would rather not pretend this is some sunny perfect day, I contemplate pulling over and over and over (is that a good spot?), I do not understand pressuring drivers in this sort of weather, but I only had five scant miles to travel from the store I was at to my temporary slumber chamber, I was counting, ticking off the tenth miles on my GPS, trying to balance (tame) my mania about pulling over to let this jerk-off pass, and finally I come up on the hotel, on my left, I signal, there is only one real lane by plow, so Big Mr. Pressure behind me all of a sudden becomes a shrinking Lilly and slows down, what a dick, and they pass freeze frame slo mo as I make my left, range rover… now going slow as a sloth, slower than I was when I was the lead dog, man that is typical, but at least I am ‘home’ for the night, at least tonight, just have to find a spot, why the hell is a hotel in this area so busy on a December night ? All the well, I find an adequate spot, I debate the old ‘should I prop my wipers up’, I don’t, I just want to take a shower and crash, thankfully this place has good water pressure, ahhh, damn that is nice, relaxed, and here I am… the photo? Cape May from a couple weeks ago, it reminds me to relax, that’s all…
Tag: humanity
Cape May NJ Travel Log (part 2)… “in the dead of…”
Preamble… yes, I know this post is out of order (this was written mostly on day 2 of my recent vacation) but I finally got all my notes together and transcribed, if you want to read up on Cape May (GO HERE), but in short let me just say, this is a place I have been coming to my entire life, it is an old shore resort town, full of history, hundreds of years old in parts… that said.. here goes….
new towns or cities just do not have the between your fingers feel, the weight, the very taste of history itself spinning slowly in the fog in the air, apparitions in plain sight, hollow sounds floating on the voice of the wind and the ever present, sometimes distant, but ever sounding crash of the waves off in the darkness, even on a night like this, dreary, drizzle hanging over or hitting your face depending on which way you turn, even on a night like this, some might shy miserable, yet, I feel drawn to walk the town, there is both something equally eerie and calming in a nearly deserted resort town, as if the buildings are exhaling from all the commotion of the summer season, homes and buildings that have literally seen and been witness to hundreds of such seasons, taking in the winter to rest their old bones, throw on some new clothes of paint, perhaps replace a beam or two, to encounter again the coming crowds and blazing sun, but that is all rear mirror now, the sun falls short in the day and never quite reaches room temperature or above, just enough light to inform and know you are awake, but in the night, the buildings can sigh, a collective hum across these old streets, this time of year is far creepier than true winter, every scrape of leaf means you are being followed, you look, and see a leaf, but are convinced otherwise, so I understand the phrase now better than I had previously, “the dead of winter”, yes, winter is more desolate, the leaves are all gone, the moon light invades and penetrates around within every inch, guardians, the trees, bare, but not tonight, a slight breeze bends the light, conjuring shadows and forms, unpredictable sights, sounds like shallow words breathed upon your neck, spirits nipping up at your legs, a cold bone finger reaches gently glances against your ear lobe, just out of your periphery but somehow felt, in these moments, strolling through this old town, as the town observes me when I think I am the observer and not just the interloper, I am unsure if I wish to find a ghostly anomaly, some proof of haunting, of life understood as after or in some other dimension, so sure would be belief if I perceived such a thing, or would the fright be more than I could bear, or the disbelief as logic might kick in and overwhelm the sense sold of my eyes, all of these things boil up inside my cauldron mind, the curiosity makes possibility lurk around every corner, surely if there were lost souls they would be here, here in this old shore town, shipwrecks, lover’s jilted, homicide guilted, accidental dispatch, all captured within the memories of these victorian walls, somewhere in a window, I am sure, I would see a form, or a passing glance, a glow, an orb, would I trust my sober nature or lay favor to my rampaging imagination, for I do not know, for I never found out, this evening, as all the creeping I perceive is the autumn playing out final tricks, before the time of the dead of has conspired, to slow down life to the point, of silence, except for the ever dull roar of the ocean waves, just over the dunes, just out of sight.
Music: Cream – As You Said
thoughts from the porch… end of vacation edition…
The last day, always, or at least it seems so, the cream of the crop, or at least perception be, from my hotel, the ocean is gleaming, sparkling morning sun fingers playing upon the little tiles of tide ridges, looking out my hotel window, no wind, no temperature to consider, just the visual, I walk down to take in one more final gulp of this ocean town, now, I am standing at the cusp of the beach, there is one of those small beach fences just mere kindling and chicken wire, just past the sign that warns you about there being no lifeguard, morning coffee in hand, more like my habits back on the mainland, to which I am summoned to return in a matter of hours, in retrospect, maybe this is not such a perfect day, a bit hazy, a bit cold, I close my eyes to feel the sun on my face, granted, the warming seems more mental than actual, and it is, if I concentrate for a bit I can feel the tops of my ears are quite exposed and colder, but somehow, with my eyes closed, a hazed globe shining on, the waves crashing down left to right, the occasional intrusion of the world around, am old diesel engine kicking up rattling throat, conversations about nonsense and such as people walk by, behind me on the boardwalk and benches meant for such things, I try to soak it all in, somehow capture this moment to store as long as I can, I know this is futile and fleeting but I inhale with hope anyway, moments like these choose me to ignore my reason, and my mind drifts…
I imagine the shore and the wonder of the original explorers, I think of how vast the ocean must have seemed and actually been, that moment, that eruption of emotion when they first spotted this shore, on the horizon, a hallucination for months of maritime lore, the realization that even among something so vast and unknown, had an end when no one had found such end until that initial landing, is that the pinnacle of man? discovery past known boundaries? our hope, our quest, to be at the beginning and end of that next discovery, there is, the pure seed of hope resident in that, all the despair, the lost ships and lost men, sunken lives in so many centuries past, but now what was once the impossible pass, is just to us a simple basic task, maybe that is what I was meant to take away this day, not just the same sun to bear upon my face, I open my eyes and nothing has changed, outwardly, an owner and a dog walking, a couple being a couple out on the sand in their moment of love, me, standing like an observant statue on the cusp of this beach, I reach for one more slug of my latte, take one more deeper breath, snapshot with my mind, one more look, a postcard to take away, and that lesson of hope, against the vast ocean, against the unknown, to ride the waves to where they go…
notes… no matter how many times I visit, Cape May surprises me, and now that I am reaching out to other places, there is so much history here in my garden state, and history is not just unknown things or lost battles, history is people, people who lived here and did things, we forget or are never told, but we should remember or learn, because that is ourselves in the end, the human story struck out against nature, nature will win, humans will disappear, the dinosaurs were here far longer than we, but we do not act that way, I suppose that is the way it will always be for top species… I hope there is more, out there, among the stars….
Cape May NJ Sunset Beach…
yeah, well, sometimes you go for the low hanging fruit, sunset beach is just… one of those things you do in Cape May, regardless of season, it works, it is a destination for a reason, I huddled in place for just the right moment, and damn is it sweet, so if you think you know New Jersey, you don’t, is there a reason we have a bad reputation ? sure… but the real Jersey shore is more than people know… that wreck out there? that is the SS Atlantus… ’nuff said.
Cape May travel log part 1…
I wish I could make movies, with the film of my eyes, so I could really show you what I am seeing, not just in the usual dimensions, but with the actual lens of my mind, I am driving, down a way, I know so well, and literally a countdown, New Jersey is many things but one thing in particular is the spine, the Parkway, the numbered roadway that seems to control destiny here in the garden state, tonight I am travelling, due south, or as far south as will allow, down from 131 all the way to exit 0, ZERO, and then a bit further, in the summer months this would be a head scratching mess, bumper to bumper, taillights, eye locked eye fights, horns, accidents causing throngs of frustration rippling up the roadway for miles, but not today, and certainly not tonight, the sky is spitting, and misting, the bright dashes embedded in the asphalt road are hypnotic and monotonous both, eight lanes in the busy part of the state become four and then down to two, bridges over unseen waters rush on by, there are very few cars on the road tonight, a Sunday, to be sure, but the hour is not that late even if it seems later, six PM sharp seems more like midnight dark, but who am I to say, exit 42 just went by, not much further to go, no GPS, no maps, I know all this route well, a ritual perhaps, my yearly coming here, well, there, when I get there, Cape May, all these years and I never thought to research the name as to why ‘May‘, and the thought will probably be gone before exit 30, or 12, or the Wildwoods, ever so closer to my shore resort destination…
I pass exit zero, without much or any fanfare, the land seems bare, wrapped up and tucked away for winter, not barren or abandoned, just buttoned down to the point of just enough, I suppose this is what hibernation is, except for humans living in places where the wind, wake and weather dictate behavior, for a time, for a season, this time, so I have arrived, a resort town, directly on the ocean, of course the hotel is located on ‘Beach Avenue’, the town is not quite empty, but the word “vacancy” is in more display than car lights on the thoroughfares, as a matter of fact the traffic lights are also put to sleep, just a blinking yellow where proper popular crossings used to be, no matter, there is nothing to encounter, just the misty rain in the streetlights light, the blinking yellow light flashes on the sides of the dark buildings like predictable lightning, my old hotel with a parking lot occupied by only one other car, this is why I come here, this time of year, I am almost disappointed someone else is here, but secrets are never kept, and others I suppose might have the same bent, as me, so, I park in my choice of spots, walk into the familiar lobby (as I have stayed here many times over the years), and an older woman checking in is wondering aloud with the hotel employee, “am I the only one here?”, and I answer, “no there is also me”, which seemed to startle her a bit, even if it was not my intent, so I check in, with the gentleman who is more like a kid, I never run into the same person twice, at the desk, in all these years, he’s nice enough, certainly up on his speech about hotel policies, I interject, trying not to be condescending, probably failing, that I am well aware of all these things as I stay here every year going back at least a decade or more, how pompous, but I think he took it fine, with a nervous genuine smile, I made a joke about the parking situation, honestly this is the most empty I have ever seen this place, that suits me just fine, but I am sure the desk worker still has to adhere to his due diligence, and well, good for him, I get my key card, fifth floor, ocean view of course, I imagine I am no where near the two others who are checked in, and I must admit I hope that to be true, I am here to detach, get away, isolate, decompress and all that, a selfish moment, a selfish sentiment, yes, I agree, but sometimes such things are needed, and this is one of those times, and that is why I came.
Sometimes the familiar is a lull and you lose yourself, you forget to check the details, this is an old hotel, back to the 1800s in fact, you can tell in the hallways, drafty and cold, as is the case tonight, the ceilings are also shorter than you might imagine, hard to tell how many souls have walked these halls, I stop off the elevator to check out the lounge (there is one on each floor), old victorian decor, paint over paint over paint from the years and wear, various books seem random, a complete volume of Funk and Wagnall’s encyclopedia, it seems this little corner survives like a museum outside the reach of the internet, at least for now, the faded yellowing pages are somehow soothing, even if I am not going to bother reading, books can be experiences in many ways, even on display, such as this, left like little presents for those who wish to unwrap them, but for now, I would rather get to my room, unpack all this junk I have wrought upon my back, all my gizmos and electronics, this laptop on which I type, all the work to break them down and build them back up seems absurd for just a short week, but a creature of habit needs to eat, so here I am and doing all these so I might have a level of comfort that I brought with me to this place.
end part 1
a simple poem, a simple thought…
am I the brick in line so perfectly laid
or the tuft of grass
that has found a way
in that space
in between
and which on now would I rather be?
notes… I was driving to my local supermarket, and the median before the main road was so manicured just a few years ago, it still is nice, but I noticed the bricks all in line, and these lines just came to me, so I wrote them, as I am known to do, in one of my scribble journals that I always keep close by, I suggest you do the same, you never know when the muse or inspiration will tap you on the shoulder, so, be prepared as much as you can, without ruining the moment, let it happen…
music? ok, here is something from a band that gets no due, I tend to specialize in such things…. punk post rock anthem… unique sound, great vocals, garage honed sound…
hey ! all thoughts, comments, critiques and such… are all appreciated, let me hear from you peeps! Honestly this blog is for me, no guts and glory or fame, I do pretty OK in the real so this is just me throwin my art out there, if one person is helped or likes it… I’m good. I am on vacay next week so no idea what might happen here… probably a bunch of beach shots of south jersey and places no one goes to (but should)… we’ll see, Cape May baby…. Cape May!
Scrimshawshank Redemption…
scrimshaw
if teeth could tell tales
instead of having them pass by
from the mouths of babes
spawned in the maws of whales
food for thought, a pictograph
etched enamel, weathered hands
captured memory of the sea
a voyage through the seven and creatures be
words wrapped wisdom around a molar born
or an incisor’s whit captured nautical dawns
“This is the tooth of a sperm whale that was caught near the Galapagos islands by the crew of the ship Adam [of London], and made 100 barrels of oil in the year 1817.” (an early scrimshaw inscription)
“lively sketches of whales and whaling-scenes, graven by the fishermen themselves on Sperm Whale-teeth, or ladies’ busks wrought out of the Right Whale-bone, and other skrimshander articles” – Moby Dick by Melville
Scrimshaw collection @ the Museum of New Zealand – Te Papa Tongarewa
Music? gotta go nautical with one of my all time faves…
A “prow” is the portion of a ship’s bow (ahem, front of ship) that is above the water, in old times adorned with various carvings, creatures and maidens…
notes: Scrimshaw ? yeah, I know, what the? sometimes, ok, often things just pop in my mind, “it just popped in there” – ray
the first gnash…
the first gnash of teeth, against me, my skin, piercing fangs, I thought I was prepared, I have seen this before, I have experienced this before, so many times as memory serves, the summer has softened me, the fall has cautioned me, but no, nothing prepares for the veil, the drop of the curtain, the stark view from the top of the cliff as your fear falls off, the reveal of the cold that makes you recoil back into your shell, and in this early fall day this is this, a first grasp, a first gnash, grabs at me, anything, any skin revealed, causing scurry into the indoors, the bite, the jaws, the abject cold, how it penetrates, all your charms and armor just fall by the wayside, cast aside in a moment, so prepared am I that I am still unprepared for the full frontal, the full front swept across the plains, slamming into the northern states, but more so here, just north of where I usually tract, but yet, I am here, dealing with the bend of the jet stream just south, just south enough, twenty degrees, twenty degrees, can it be? the time for outside ends, so soon I think, tomorrow morning I wake, to scurry to the car, huddle in place to let it warm, oh sweet autumn, where have you gone…
notes… wrote this last night in a fever pinch when the temp in westchester NY dropped into the 20s, I was in some foreign hotel, away from home but I have to say the hotel was comfy and had damn good insulation, elmsford NY, I can check that off the bucket list, well, I doubt many have elmsford on their bucket list but it is not a bad town anyways… I checked in around 6pm, parking lot had plenty of options… went to dinner (really good), came back around 9pm and there was literally one spot left, woke up and checked out by 7am and the lot was nearly empty… strange man, strange…. but up the street to Pleasantville I went, I have to say the local Starbucks was one of the most well run and friendly I have ever been too, and they know all the regulars and bang out the orders, for those of you who turn your nose up at Starbucks (and the prices), try the just the regular coffee, not the ‘triple lindy caramel choco double frappe half zebra latte’ or whatever, for the price the regular coffee is damn awesome, I like the Pike, or Sumatra, just a splash of skim… but that is just me… and I did have some amazing sashimi today with my coworker Alzira!
observational moment…
observation, like a movie, like a dream, like the terror of sleepy hollow approaching, the leaves parting, dancing as if on cue and string, all the ingredients stirring, in a wind mixer, a blender, in the wake of motion of cars travelling down the highway, even if I understand all the thermal and aerodynamics of the phenomena I am astounded by the coordination of all, not even a rehearsal, just the fall, the leaves in just the right place, in just such a way as to peel off like parting waves and curl off into the wake, albeit behind cars in inward looping curls, but again, all the random perfection that had to happen, the leaves fallen just so, the wind at the right flow, the dryness of the air so nothing is sticking, the amazing spectacle of driving through autumn leaves left on the road, so simple, so over looked, amazement hidden under your nose… and tires…
notes… I am up in Pleasantville NY (‘Westchester is Bestchester’ as they say around here) for work (for a few days now), huddled in a hotel as the temperature drops into real winter depths, actually colder than usual even for real winter, out of my element in a new town, you think I would be used to it by now, but as I rode along the road I felt like I was in a Lexus commercial or something the way the leaves perfectly rode up my ride and danced around… so, you know, I write things… this being one of those, I try to to keep up when I am on the road but when you work 12-15 hour days, and some in a row, time eats you up and leisure becomes the revelation of good water pressure in the hotel you are staying in… ah, another continental breakfast to take in….
and by the way for those not in the know, I am literally not that far from Sleepy Hollow, it is a real place after all and is awesome in the fall as you might imagine, if you are in the NYC area consider visiting especially halloween time… they dress up the town as you might think and it has a vibe…
quick shot perspective (aka the puppy effect)…
the morning shuffle, daily, I have been trying to pause for a moment before I hop in my car for the morning commute, to just pause, take a gander around, maybe spy the sunlight creeping through and around the branches of the trees that tower over the backdrop of the house, maybe find a squirrel milling about, a flock or one of the local birds, get lost in the minutia of wondrous nature, of the natural world around even here in suburbia, for just a second, take it in, ingest it like a day’s nourishment if you will, take the feeling with me to fuel some sense of wellness for as long as I can stretch it to last, to remember my place in the universe, the wonder of a planet spinning all the time, my feet quite tethered to yet unaware, but this morning I was in a rush, in a huff, no thinking about doing the right thing and enjoying a moment in the proverbial sun, of course there was none, sun, that is, this morning, just ominous grey swaths haphazard across, blurred and bound I rushed to my car unknown to sight or sound, just on the mission to get to work by nine, on time, or else, but sometimes life intervenes on your own behalf, out of the corner of my eye, down the block, enough of a ways I had to grab a second look, a neighbor, whom I could not identify out of a line up for my life, walking a dog, but not a dog, quite obviously a young one, a puppy, just the word rings the brain and resets perspective, ‘a puppy’, some sort of husky mix thing, paws more like over size rain boots two sizes too large, curiosity streaming from every posture pose, leash taut in stretch directions as all things are new, I wanted to pause and say hello but time would not allow, but time did allow enough, for that moment of puppy love, and things seemed more alright, for at least a few moments thereof.
Music… obvious…
Shades of My Garden 