I post unfinished work(s) from time to time, I call them my orphans, sometimes you need to fess up to who you are, I am imminently bad at going back and finishing works, they either finish in the moment… or I abandon them, so here are some of those (just dumping them off on a Saturday night), my hope is someone finds some value in them and maybe inspires them to do something, the underlying inspiration was there… but something else caught my eye and they are just…
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1.28.19 “an ode” oh clear blue sky not even a cloud in sight there is nothing to contain just breathe the even still
2.26.19 (meditation) like a technicolor jellyfish spinning and shimmering, pulsing blasting off with the tail stalk of a nuclear bomb bursting upwards at impossible speed into the out reach atmospheric breach
2.27.19 I was born to be with you but I ruined destiny turned my head on fate and I have never fully recovered and so I dwell
3.17.2019 in discussions with my self on the terms of my psyche inner voices around the table adversarial arbitration a split decision
3.19.19 on a beach ghost crabs are afraid of me
4.19.2019 splinters of spiders made can be mended wholly broken glass can not be repaired only reformed
5.6.2019 I search through my feelings and you are always there I search around my home and you are not there, anymore
notes… that’s it, nothing else tonight. Comments are always appreciated because I can always hear my voice but I need to hear yours…
might I be a bear called to hibernate and have a dream that lasts a season, during that long slumber might I wish for something more to transform to emerge from that cocoon a butterfly and take flight lighter than air above the common ground travel boundless under basking glow, but alas, I will awake as yet still just a bear and onward call to river’s edge on forest tall
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notes… I will from time to time write things about being things/animals, trying to find perspective as it were, this is one of those times, hope you enjoy, and throw me a like or nine…
music… one of my faves… ambient with a bit more purpose, I don’t like pegging music like that, this is electronic and more upbeat than the term “ambient” may suggest… I suggest you dig it… and groove my friends…
Dye RE: entry #1 (how I color the world and the world colors me) a construction cone made me smile this morning, driving over the snake hill bridge, manhattan on the horizon (said photo for context), I am just this little piece moving through all this madness, and I visualize that I am a thousand feet above looking at the spectacle below, all the moving parts of this little corner of the world, an intersection of conjunctions, in a quasi-parade, it almost looks like cells bustling about in an artery, all moving in some strange sense of unison, this is the way things have to be, with or without me, I am just this little piece in this clockwork existence, am I even alive? does it even matter? so how can I be upset by the little chatter, the small perceived slights that occur to my particular bubble, people cutting me off, someone doing their makeup almost running me into the median, and I look over at the closed lane, you know, the one causing an inferno of frustration among the local inhabitants, and something just washes over me, relief? release? a combination of the intoxication of belief ? perhaps… I just smiled, and felt free, I wish I could bottle the sensation honestly, so pure, and uplifting, I wish I could reside in that space for awhile longer, the freedom or realization of perception, being out of myself but yet fully aware, and I feel it now just some fifteen minutes past, but yet as I pulled up to my office, I knew it would not last, I tried to hold on, but the familiar pulled down, the doubts and common troubles never left, they just took a seat for a breath, is this what “living in the moment” is? such a vague term I never really pursued to converse with it, but I have to admit, the sense of well being was a sure as the seat I am parked in right now, typing these words.
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post: this morning, after reading an article yesterday, I decided to take a cold shower, well, that is not 100% accurate, I decided to experiment a touch based on the article, the piece dealt with the Wim Hof method, while I am not some yoga/spiritual guru, or adherent to a specific religious belief I am willing to give things a serious listen and the occasional try should it pique my particular interests, since your body dealing with cold is essentially a reflex I thought it might have merit to give it the ole whirl, I mean, after all, a cold shower is not going to kill you, it certainly is not pleasant but many things are not so… what the hell, why not? Let me be the first to say that standing in a really cold shower for two full minutes on it’s face seems like nothing daunting whatsoever, what can I tell you, try it, the response is certainly interesting, your breathing changes dramatically, interesting to see how things happen automatically when you are observing and not just experiencing, I lasted 30 seconds, this is not a contest so I am not gauging results, no medals to be awarded, I am admittedly refreshed this morning, is it just the cold shower? I don’t know but I have to say I feel pretty good today, so I might try it some more.
work was getting to me, my usual brick and mortar exterior was showing cracks, is this Monday? which is even a worse thought when it is not, but then you think “well, one day closer to the end of the week then”, which holds your hope over for about four seconds before returning to the pounding pace, the check in stamping work clock ticking just above your right shoulder, ever closer, sure, you flick your head around and it retreats to where it actually is, but that sneaky bastard just keeps ticking and mocking you just the same, the phone, I swear they work in tandem, tick – ringinging – tick – ringinging – tick – ringinging, is anyone going to answer that goddamn phone? and half the time it is one of my technicians calling. I believe it was jesus who said that you if you teach a man to fish he will eat all year, or something to that effect, well, I have taught some of my technicians to fish… but they wind up casting their lines in parking lot puddles, and I assure you the catch there is certainly not edible, nor is their ineptitude understandable or put-able on a day like today, in between thunderclaps of the boss’ pages, I decide to dash for the door, even a dreary wannabe rain day beats the inside of this joint today, I think of braveheart as my inner soul screams “F R E E D O M!!!!!”
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Ah, lovely suburbanHackensack New Jersey, a collection of non de-script homes nestled ‘tween aged industrial buildings of little or none architectural flair (a true monument to utilitarianism boredom), the gleaming, bustling highway route 80 off to my left (scene of the morning crawl), the effervescent Hackensack river one block behind me (nothing can live in the water it is so utterly polluted), the once black mulch adorning the sides of the walkway with lovely petals of newport and marlboro scattered about, ah, this is my refuge from that cubicle of torture (even though it is a not a cubicle, I might actually prefer the semi-privacy granted by such walls), I need to catch my breath and shake off the ox plow of the day, what better way than to amuse myself with the viciousness of local traffic, I swear I saw fangs bared (I could be mistaken), but the strict adherence to subtle traffic common law does bring out the beast in people, take more than two seconds at a light? you will get a rather subtle reminder from the courteous traveler behind you, sometimes even shouting encouraging words such as “move it moron” or “what the f’ is wrong with you, you stupid piece of s*!”, who on god’s good green earth would dare question the civility and harmony of humanity in times such as these? I was also unaware that the stretch of local road outside was an honorary speed race track (I think it is christened Chuck Yeager memorial or something), and off they go in all sorts of various vehicles gunning it down the street to some unknown checkered flag, all to my amusement, there are lights every 100 or so feet as you approach downtown, and the courthouse as well, oh well, these brave pioneers know better than I, I am not sure if I witness the death of courtesy or both sides being, well, complete friggin jerkoffs, my neighbor across the way, this sort of blair witch house thing, that has been through (barely) many floods, and certainly even more occupants, not sure which has done more damage but both wind up leaving various furniture and objects at the curb in their wake, but back to the traffic at hand, my neighbor whom I do not know (we office types do not mix with the ‘residentials’, it is forbidden or to say it with more panache – ‘verboten’), he decides to just back right up into the street with nary a pause, well, Mr J Lexus was having none of that I tell you, I mean I get it, I truly do, being the first to sit at a red light is quite the high honor, but it was hard for me to decide who was more in the wrong here, technically ‘we-be-jammin-can’t-see-through-the-night-tinted-glass-Lexus-man’ had the right of way, he clearly demonstrated this with a light tap on his horn that lasted nearly ten seconds, I could not hear the verbal gems he hurled at my poor lonely neighbor, who incidentally took this verbal assault to simply back up right into the road and force a sudden stop of a different car (one of lower standard in the caste system than Sir Lexus the Great), I can’t tell you how much this whole scene amused me, and I think I got a couple of death stares in my general direction, but I felt safe with the door to my office within grasping distance of my big white rear in case a hasty retreat was needed, so I filled my lungs with the filthy air of industry, racing cars for no reason, the highway fumes floating down like smog mana from heaven, and I was revived…can I get an Amen (cough * cough *)… but I must admit I felt refreshed, revitalized, ready to put on my invisible armor and march back in there to the battle that can not be won, but I struggle on, with renewed vigor, renewed belief in the goodness of man!
Epilogue: As fate laughs, down at me, as fate would have it, this very night, driving home (as I tend to do), I get off my normal exit on the GSP, no biggie, I make the usual turn onto Magnolia (glad there is no train arriving @ Metropark), and WHAM… a livery vehicle in front of me (that’s a fancy taxi to the uninitiated), said livery vehicle proceeds to race ahead at 10-15 mph in front of me… honestly at this point I could have turned into a traffic madman like I expounded about in this post, but alas, I just laughed at the utter irony of it all (being I wrote all this today), and let the jackass behind me do all the road rage-y stuff for me, you know, the swerving, the lights, the horn, this just amused me more and more, local street, double yellow line (no passing), so I just bided my time and livery guy made a left, “good luck” I thought to those behind, poor bastards. (and heck, it doesn’t hurt to have some good tunes to take the old edge off, I must admit).
silly but performed so well, can you recognize all the songs and riffs (so many classics in there) ? ? ? ? and with that I sign off my friends, as always, all eyes, loose eyeballs, looks, half looks, stink eyes, and other none such… are… well appreciated. tell your friends, ego has a blog, and this is 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.
this brings me back to days of my youth, my father had a “provisions” route back in the day, and when I was off from school I went to work with him, in essence a provision route worked thusly, my dad (with me in tow) would travel to the meat processing plants and supply warehouses in Elizabeth and Newark NJ, pick up the raw product (whole briskets, fresh chop meat, huge wheels of cheese, snack products, fries, deli salads, condiments, you name it), and then deliver them to local bars, taverns, restaurants, and yes, the occasional strip club (we’ll get to that detail), remember there was no Costco or Restaurant Depot, it was a good business from the turn of the century forward but of course it was phased out by progress like many things, my dad had this big yellow truck, it was like driving around with the mayor of every town, I swear he knew everybody, smiling and waving like we were in a parade as he drove, he knew all the cops, all the weird locals in all the bars, “Hey Freddie K!” was just this accepted mantra, what did I know, I was a kid, I wish I was more astute or paid more attention, the amount of inspiration for character study was astounding then, some of the experiences seem so strange now that I recall them to write in these words, the smell of bars as the sunlight first hits the witness wood floors, a sort of mix of barf, beer, mold and pine cleaner evaporating, you could see dust particles floating upwards in the light, questioning drunk eyes watching, walking into a strip club before they open as an eleven year old and my only want was a quarter to play the latest video game, I am not sure why but strip clubs and bars always had the latest/newest video game cabinets back in the day, we are talking early 80’s so video games were new, hell I remember Street Fighter coming out and freaking out over it (although I am admittedly a Mr. Do man), seeing the help (ahem, strippers) getting ready (into their outfits), pinching my cheeks as I was so darn cute, but I paid it no mind, it just was, I remember Cheeques in Linden had the best damn hamburgers ever, well, they should as my dad was delivering fresh chop meat direct from Magnolia Beef, where I would see things made, you know, meat parts literally being ground down in front of me, half dead whole animals on hooks being pushed around to the various processing stations, I still remember the cold smell of dead meat, the places were cold, really cold, my dad and the workers had these white coats, and then there was the sound of the hamburger patty machine, ka thunk ka thunk ka thunk ka thunk, and then paper slapped between the patties, then a case is made, rolled to the bottom and this crazy wire tie machine thing would seal the box with two ties, and then we would pack them in the truck for delivery that day, learning to use a hand truck was second nature, a wonder all these memories, someone might look at me now and see none of this, a poet, a writer, a philosopher, a nerd, who cut his teeth in the bowels of urban central new jersey’s blue collar belly, I wonder how it shaped me, or was I already there…. hum?!?
Lyrics to the song, poetry if you ask me…
“I stand at your gate and the song that I sing is of moonlight I stand and I wait for the touch of your hand in the June night The roses are sighing a Moonlight Serenade The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and I sing you a moonlight serenade Let us stray till break of day in love’s valley of dreams Just you…“
that first dandelion has appeared in my yard, sure enough to be followed by more, is this that produces the roar of the coming season with that golden mane? the transition of land, the prey shall inherit the earth from the predator, I quite see all the harbinger’s of spring in their many forms, the golden locks of golden rods, the marked pinks and purples of cherry blossoms, daffodils ranging on ‘scaped frontiers, even as I count these happenings the shift seems an instant, is the world a touch greener every minute, each moment, or are my eyes just adjusting.
I watched a cardinal below my window, in the bush, hurriedly and meticulously crafting a nest, flitting off like a bolt to gather more building materials, placing them with expert instinct feet and beak, then sitting upon them, shaking her tail furiously about to settle the lot down, shaking her whole body with decided fury, and settling down to check the foundation, over and over and over again, I watched the process, careful not to disclose my perch, or my intrusion into family work, and on I watch, wondering, wishing, wishing I had such singular devotion in my own daily pursuits.
Part of this post is from a poem I never finished, but this post and that poem have been rattling about my mind as of late these days, here is the unfinished work:
the harbingers of spring o’ soon upon the gate announcing the guests arrivals golden locks of golden rods rows on rows of cherry blooms sunlit hours stretch ’til moon the flowers of narcicus peak the boughs
I kind of like sharing the truth, or unfinished work, I am not some robot or perfectionist anymore, I want to let people in to see the inner workings, I do not have much free time so I write when I can and spur of the moment most of the time, it prevents me from posting everything I want but also holds me to the reality of what I got… any and all eyes on this post, thanks, that’s all for tonight folks.
upon glorious victory! let my men take me from this field hoisted up on heralded shield a procession commence to great fanfare the songs of this day for long they share let the choirs rise high from those survived chapters now written in the tales of scribes, further look back in peaceful times the fallen are gone and shall have no lies
Notes: not to glorify war, but, war happens (one of those inevitable things), there have been many commemorations and such in literature, for some reason the topic hit me and I wrote this from the perspective of a dying commander in the wake of victory, maybe I was listening to this… (hey, I am an old school metal head after all), all comments and such are always appreciated, well, unless they aren’t well thought out, I am a busy guy…
I am no guru or practitioner of any particular faith, belief system or anything of the sort (but I not one to dismiss those things as I once certainly was), today was one of those days at work where everything just seemed LOUD ! (sorry, about the volume, that is), ever have one of those days where every little sound in your office or work environ was more like a jack hammer for your personal amusement, almost a cacophony produced just for your benefit (or to spite specifically you), the phone, the tapping, the door slamming, the laughing, the phone, terrible personal ring tones, the tapping. the door slamming, the phone – will someone get that! all this escalating in a spiral of audio vertigo… ugh, I think you get my drift, so I had to escape to find some good head space, I sneaked off to my car, popped in some tunes (in this case (“Carbon Life Forms – Mos 6581”), FLAC format – I am a nerd, I know, I guess this is meditation, I close my eyes and try to open my mind to whatever will come, sometimes some gnarly psychedelics, but often I think of water (the ocean), as I am trying to clear my mind, not necessarily get to a “happy place” but more or less let my mind wander and empty and see what fills the space, today it had words…
endless waves stretched out to the horizon why is it always these times when the light has not long, rises in sines waves formed in perfect lines motion in curves amber orange crests to cover, endless waves on shore break I can feel each one, penetrate as they dissipate into my feet bottom sand, blanket sense I wish to lie here forever for all time in this endless waves, this lullaby, rise risen riding fading one by one looped film as one becomes at once billions and one becomes one with all the calm the heartbeat drawn pace by phases dampen the path of mortal ambitions this celestial shore endless waves into the forever more.
notes… as usual this is a first draft, I’d love to say I will get back to it… but I probably won’t. this was a moment, and there it is, or was, or something like that.
Shades of My Garden 