“why do I seek objectivity from perfect strangers I know nothing of them or their dangers”
notes… why do we seek comfort in the bed of strangers, minds I mean, get your head out of the gutter, ok, blame me on that one, my words lead you on, but we pin the tail on the donkey of expectations all the time, why? we yearn for approval, as do I, just try, try and fail and then try and succeed, just believe in yourself, why ? simple… the universe has selected you, yes you, to be alive right now, and we share this space so I would appreciate some help in the matter, you won the universal lottery, think about it, all of the history of the universe… ALL of it, created you, reading this, if that is not amazing or a miracle, then show me one, OK, outside of pandas, koalas, and platypus… no fair on that count, I concede…
“I believe in the afterlife, my socks have to be going somewhere all these years, some stranded laundry dimension”
notes… sometimes quotes just pop in my head, this is one of those, folding my laundry after the superbowl, most weeks I only have one day off (ahem, today) so regardless of what is going on in the world I have to do what I have to do when I have the time, this may be a silly thought but yet also an interesting musing… where the hell do all those socks go… ?
the whimsy and agony of traffic, I got off at a relatively early time (for me), had to fill up the tank, no problem, on my way back toward the GSP, NJ Transit bus in front, pulls over for a stop, I can not pass (double yellow) so I chill out for a moment, then a minute, I am barely past the intersection, the light turns, I feel it pulsing in my rear view mirror, the pressure is mounting up lining up behind me, three minutes now, weighing breaking traffic laws and scooting around, “eh, how much longer could it be?” I think, foolishly, indeed, three now stretches past five, I can hear the people’s thoughts behind me screaming WTF inside my mind, a couple of cars in back tuck turn tail around as they have routes of escape, not me, right behind the big silver sardine barge wondering what the hell is going on, so, just as I am ready to make an illegal K turn (or maybe more like an F), the bus lurches forward, and then I see the cause of my torture, a man, in a strange colored rain parka (it was not raining), the hood tightly on framing his gaunt face, the same weird gray beige as his rain gear and boots made for flooding, or wading, either way, not boots made for asphalt pavement, at least not tonight, he was surrounded, quite literally by a circular fortress of bags, plastic grocery bags, all double bagged, had to be about thirty, I can not imagine how tedious that would be to board and un-board a bus with that cargo, how nicely cramped his bus neighbors must have been, the man, and his force-field of bags was also quite in the road, so I had to tiptoe (ahem, break) across the double yellow lines as to not smash his carefully placed bag telemetry, ah, the irony, anyway, that was not the first stop, next was only one hundred feet up the block, but this was no bus stop, I know where all those are, being this is the town where I work, the next one is quite far, farther down past the overpass at least, I can barely make out the lights trying to bend around the bus, something is amiss, an accident? ya’ gotta’ be kiddin’ me now what (in my not so strong more north jersey accent)?? (another few minutes now pass as I stew in my own juices), I notice the bus looks confused, I mean, by the driver’s actions I can sense that the driver does not know what to do or what is up, either do I, but after Mr. Bags back there I was not getting stuck, this time, while I did not cross a double yellow, I did the worse and ducked to the right, a bit of daylight to a street I knew I could escape to, for a moment I thought the bus was going to turn right as well, right into me, he hinted a turn, but I slipped by, unscathed, took a look down the street back, yep, emergency construction or something, the road was closed totally the way I was going, what luck! so, down the escape path I sped, happy to wind through back to route 46 and the GSP…
…of course there was traffic on the GSP, why wouldn’t there be? was the world conspiring against me ? certainly feels that way, I put on the classical station to soothe the savage beast looking to burst forth, tchaikovsky, and a number I am familiar with, one that brings me back to a day when I had the previn driven nutcracker suite on tape, the one thing about tape is it made you mostly listen to the whole thing, fast forward and reverse were not exactly convenient, or exact, until they came up with that thing where they stopped at gaps in sound, which was a revelation at the time, oh how the little things satisfied, not the one button at our fingertips convenience of the now, or even voice commands, so anyway, this put me in a better place to deal, with the bumper to bumper ordeal laid out before me this night, I almost wish the parkway was not so exact, when you are speeding along you hardly notice, when you are limping along it is hard not to notice the mile markers…
Photo by KML on Pexels.com
they seem stuck on numbers for miles, the thump thump thump of the road on the tires, it is like a cruel parody of those wheels at the boardwalk where you never win anything cool anyway, why do the hosts on classical radio all sound like they are americans trying to sound like british royalty? sometimes it is annoying, sometimes soothing, but it just is, finally, I near my exit, I can see it, that guy is going to cut me off, that jeep, two lanes over, here it comes, yep, darts in front of me as if there is some emergency, or the four car lengths behind me were inadequate compared to the space between the forward lexus just ahead of me, since I am expecting all manner of bad luck or dumb luck or no luck this does not phase me, or irk me, or even bring me to a rousing boil like it might on some days, no, I am accepting my beating by the gods today, might as well take it on the chin than scream into a hurricane, Mr. Cutmeoff is going to also realize he is in the wrong lane and jerk back into this turning lane, yep, I’m a traffic psychic in a sea of psychos this evening, I should buy a lotto ticket but there would probably be a long line at the local krauszer’s, finally I am on the road home, good old route 27, I figure I deserve a treat, so I decide to travel a little further up the street, maybe whet my beak at the local irish pub, or better yet pick up some tasty latin grub, I opt for option two, so I head towards Metuchen, which is really the belly button, well, donut hole of Edison, a little main street nugget of idyllic Americana if there was such a representation in New Jersey, this can’t be… I see those ominous flashing lights ahead, I was in the clear for so long now, I should have just packed it in on the final stretch, apparently I do not learn my lessons well, as I approach the lights, I realize (exhale with glee)… not on my side, of the road, and a cop is literally standing there with his hand out stopping traffic without warning, I feel for you my poor fellow souls over there, I really do, but for now I slip by, I just chuckle to myself, there is no way traffic, this ambiguous thing, this idea, there is no way Traffic has a sense of humor… or vengeance… is there?
so I drive up to the drive up atm tonight, to deposit my check, from last week, pretty normal stuff here, of course, of course the atm is closed (more specifically unavailable), why? why? sure, I know today is a fed holiday but I just want to deposit a check fer crissake (a little cash pull out wouldn’t have hurt either), so I pull around the other side to use the walk up atm, I park, and immediately I am flanked by another car, SUV actually, obnoxiously that came in the wrong way against the one way disturbing my vibe, but at least they didn’t park on top of my ass, so I pop out, to get my business done, this atm has problems too but deposits ain’t one of them (so the screen says), I log in, cover my code, and lo and behold, the deposit button is not available, ya gotta’ be kiddin’ me, so, struck out as it were, and I wasn’t going for three, the person, a guy, hops out of the caddy escalade, I try to be a nice guy, “hey man, this ATM is not working, the one around the corner either”, as to not waste his time, his answer, well question, flummoxed me, “WHY?” he says, looking at me pretty hard for an answer, now, I am not sure if this gentleman does not realize, I certainly am not an employee of Wells Fargo, not eight at night, not walking away from an ATM and flagging him down, so I managed a “it just is, no cash, no deposit, you can’t do anything on it man”, again, without pause and a stern straight gaze, “WHY?” wtf is with this guy, so I just shrug and get back to my car, of course I hang out for a bit pretending to play with my phone, but watching live in my mirrors, I had to make sure that his trip to the ATM ended just as mine, it did, I drove off oddly satisfied, at least he had fair warning… why?
(poetic mind) high beams behind me on the highway like bright glaring eyes a predator’s eyes stalking a jaguar’s eyes blinding blinking, back down to the ground now back up upon the pack
(actual) why the f#@! does this f@#$%^g jagoff have his god*$*% brights on? this is the most well lit road in jerzee! this is the friggin GSP ya’ dumb mook!
(proceeds to slow down to put my brights on in retaliation)
no, I’m not proud of it, but sometimes the times get the best of me, this was one of those times, I admit it.
an endless trail of red tail lights slithering inches off for miles, as far as I can see, I try to concentrate on the lobster mac n’ cheese waiting for me, sitting, stewing, a frog in a Jacuzzi, trying to find the right soundtrack to alter my mood, new year’s eve and here I am again, isolated in a forest of people trapped in tin cans, finally, an accident up ahead, better yet a car was on fire, at least the payoff was there, I hate to sit though bumper to bumper stadium seating with no show, as long as no one is hurt of course, there is no ambulance present, unless I missed it, that is, and with that time jolts, as if a starting gun bang, down the stretch they go, burst forth from an invisible gate, a car, new york plates, blows by me at about ninety I think, “did you not just see that mangled wreck? !“, I scream, in my head at least, screaming at a car screaming by would have no effect at all, of course, white lines flash, speed up, speed on by, white line links in the road, that boring morse code, how soon hopeless waiting becomes the quick past in the rear view mirror forum, another year, another year I whisper in my mind to myself, what does it mean, seemingly stuck in the same old themes, rinse, repeat, today is your birthday, I know, do I send you a note? would it be for you, truly, or words that would be serving myself, mostly, every day possibility seems dimmer, but there are still stars in the sky, out of reach, but still transmitting light, no matter how far away they may lie, I know, I know the pain I caused you, put upon you, mine, mine has never gone away, like they said it should, would, sometimes I think I am wired wrong, but complaining to the manufacturer will do no good, at this point, anymore, at least I can hold you in my thoughts, you were, you were a reality, a reality that I had parallel, I try to hold you from fading into history, even though, it is, with each passing year… tonight smells like winter, a hint of wood smoke as somewhere someone stokes a fireplace, a delicate drizzle drifts in and out of phase, a cold wind chills the air just enough to catch breath, the trees are just bare limbs, frozen in the night, the bamboo rattles against the siding of the house, sometimes rapping, sometimes tapping, or fingernails scraping against the windows, there is quiet on the street, no moon, I step inside, the comfort of lobster mac n’ cheese offers a temporary shelter, tomorrow another day, another year, shall rise, shall I? when times are darkest, no matter what the mood, the view, the doom, there is life, and let that be my lantern guide…
how things shift, magically, well, OK, quite naturally, but damn it seems like magic sometimes, my yesterday mindset seems just like a forgotten relic of the past, a lost wagon train on the plains on trails before highways, the snow, what was of it, has melted away into the witness protection program, transferred somewhere upstate, even though, I have to say, the temperature is much colder today, thirties, all day, but somehow… someway, this is a better day, the sun is bright, if not warm, just bright, and brilliant through the trees now as there is no leaves left to absorb the inferior solar tilted version in winter, stark naked lines outlines of trees against the blue, some clouds here and there but mostly strands of gossamer across an azure canvas, nothing more, the air is crisp, a strange thought, but something about cold winter, still winter air, just has a certain feel when you inhale, almost like you are drinking it through a straw, at least that is my perception, how things align, today is my ‘late’ day to work, so along with the weather cooperating the traffic is a usually a toothless tiger, and it was, what a difference one hour makes in the commuting rat race, at least in this state, even the road seems nicer, sure, concrete and asphalt are not going to win any pageants but they sure look better bathed in the bright sunlight, I can spot the the batches of rust on the bridges and make out images in them like cloud formations, this is truly a conspired concert of events all coming together in the polar opposite way, than yesterday, I can hear little orphan annie in the back of my head, where the hell was she yesterday ?… well, at least I found a cozy parking spot, in the back lot, I’m actually a few minutes early, how novel, for this week, so that is the lesson, a simple one I suppose, one we all ‘know’ but perhaps need to throw our selves a reminder now and again… the sun will come out tomorrow, or perhaps ‘could’ is more accurate, but find a field and bury your doubts, you never know when things will turn, for the better, the chance is always there when you open your eyes on to the next day’s dawn.
a flock of seagulls, no not the band (and was that hair a viable option… ever?), a flock of seagulls, hmm, ‘flock’ seems a bit fancy for seagulls, maybe a ‘collection’ ? no… that sounds a bit too much like a bunch of stuffed taxiderm-ical feathered statues staring at you with those creepy dead hollow eyes, a ‘gang’ of seagulls ? hmm, they can be rather aggressive in these parts but that does not seem to fit the ticket either, a ‘gaggle’ of seagulls ? that seems to fit, even if the name is owned by their cousins the geese (I am allowed creative license with species just so you know), so a gaggle of seagulls it is, not on the sea, quite more inland, choosing to be, in the parking lot of my local strip mall, a pizza place (very good local joint), of course a chinese spot as well, a laundromat, a supermarket, a nail place and then a hair place with predictably in the middle of them cuddled a spa that seems sketchy (aka massage parlor), a bangin’ bagel place, a liquor store, jeez, this really is New Jersey to the core, I think that covers all the major food groups of Jersey: Taylor Ham, Egg and Cheese; Bagels; Pizza; Eggrolls and Wonton Soup; and the adult beverage of your choice to wash it all down, and somehow this is the domain of said gaggle of gulls formerly of beachfront property realm ? I suppose the scavenging is superb to attract such a far off crowd, especially lured away from the beach and shore which I consider so much more (fresh seafood buffet galore), than this, some so random new jersey parking lot bore, but they did not leave their hierarchy behind, there is constant shuffling for the best of the parking lot lamp perches, to scoop up the scraps of those passing through their new inland shore as tides of people come and go, then there is the bench, the on deck circle, those waiting in line on top of the buildings, all in line, waiting to be called up to the scavenging front line when one of the larger more established gulls is caught not looking or is sleeping it off some where quite satisfied, it all seems so darwinian and yet wholly unnatural all in the same breath of thought and observation, most travelers through do not pay them (the gaggle) any mind, I like to take at least a little time to observe their idiosyncrasies and evolving society, I wonder, would I leave the beach… for this ? this concrete wash with no roaring ocean, a beach all to yourselves, for the most part, only that pesky invasion of summer bodies which bring sacrificial food anyway, the waves, the surf, the sun, the ocean smell, swapped, for this? belching cars and urban smells, I wonder again, could I do that? leave that behind ? how high and mighty I must be, at least they started on the beach, I have never gotten there to begin, except to visit for a spell, I surely have never set up shop for more than a week on said beach, touche gaggle of gulls, at least you have at once or past called the ocean shore your home where I have found most of my life on pavement and concrete stone…
music… had to be obvious, except I remember when it came out before GTA made it popular again, I was more of a Duran Duran kid I have to say… yeah, me the uber metal head into all sorts of craziness musically, my first musical love was Simon Le Bon, don’t tell anyone, don’t want to lose my cred…
so, we are getting ready to go out, where? I forget, it seems like we have been everywhere but then again, there is always something new to explore out there, and then she asks me “do I look fat in this?”, geez, even after all these years, how many years has it been actually? I get lost a bit in my own thoughts thinking about how it seems like a lifetime, no, more like all time since we were together, almost like there was nothing before and I imagine nothing after, as this is all I know, and she notices my stargazing look and interjects again, “I asked you a question!”, oh so you know how these things go, awoken from my momentary haze I utter ‘you look absolutely amazing for your age babe’, then realize, even a bright comet that nears a star still melts, as this quickly lost orbit comes back around as a perceived insult, “what do you mean my age?!?!?!” her steely blue wolf-rayet eyes blazing, she looks like she might go supernova at this point, I try and salvage my position trying to read the sudden gravity of the situation, ‘c’mon honey, we are not in the cradle nebulae anymore, youth is totally wasted on the young, you have the experience to pull it all off, there wouldn’t be anything without you, you know that’, she seems satisfied enough with my response, off the hook for a moment I suppose, the solar winds can shift so suddenly you know, even with all these years navigating the expanse of her character is like mapping the stars and trying to track all the other celestial bodies flying around out there, then I remember where we are going, to her father’s, always the same, a sunday, after all, even after all these years that seem like forever, he works six days a week, still, six days in and out, have to admire the old man, still letting the creative juices flow even at his age, although he is not as touchy about it as the old ball and constellations over there, glad she can’t read thoughts as surely she can turn as cold as the darkest black hole, and who wants to deal with that on a day off? ah, to be fair, when she is on there is nothing brighter in the sky to guide by, but boy does she takes her time getting things ready, like she is building civilizations from the ground up starting with amino acids and the like, at this rate we will have to travel at the speed of light to get there on time, such is life, such is the routine, you think I would be used to it by now, you think I would, I guess standing still is not in my nature, like an electrical impulse just pushing my molecules all around, apart and together, all the time, anyway, who am I ? you may ask, I would say it does not matter…
notes... just one of those that popped into my noggin, an idea, a conversation, so here it is… raw in form but from this form as is….
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…
as I sit here huddled in a hotel room in 
Shades of My Garden 