O’ withering Jack you lowly schmuck only luck kept you out of a pie or worse yet pumpkin spice spam or some sumptuous trendy latte, perhaps or in the boil of some awful seasonal brew no, you, are now just this sinking lump a hump of rotten candy corn looking imitation drooling out god knows what from the corner of that hole that was your mouth part drifting ever south by the hour, ravens will not even peck at your dead hollow eyes in fact I do not think I can pick you up in one piece might I need a shovel and dump you in the woods like some mobster’s body and then perhaps you may realize your last final purpose… to fertilize.
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O’ my poor Jack my creation, my creativity birthed to fruition your iron toothed smile brought fright spawning shadows cast into that hallow night seeming singular purpose you did guard my doorstep walkway and the yard for not even a black cat did approach nor spells of darkness dare encroach not on your watch my good friend! but with the pass of october and leafy dress that last candle must flicker down and when all wax is said and done your watch will have ended my esteemed, my surrogate, the one until next harvest, the one
notes… these are just for fun, just me throwing out some lines thinking about the poor sap of a thing on my stoop… seasonal and such… this is a continuation of a previous post…
o’ sad Jack once ferocious teeth scowled now, sagging, inward, to the side as your mouth collapses and the roof caves in your short age your short time in the sun so briefly, gone witness to all the leaves now quartered and drawn a mouth once alight with writhing flame throwing shadows on demon’s bane casting out into the night flickering dance candle light for you have seen better days hollowed out for hallows eve has left you less whole with no reprieve and like the shrinking land repose off into the landfill you must go yet let not all hope be squashed for come next fall we pick your kin
notes… just something somewhat silly that the muse bequeathed to me today…
music… sort of weird and inspired… damn good band…
how thoughts ignite in flames, bullet trains and maelstroms, so where should I start, so where should I begin? oh yes, a peach in the park, how might I endeavor to discover the clever fellow who placed this fleshy fruity fellow on this spot, might I infer into the meaning, the intention of this pit full globe placed perfectly perpendicular on the corner of this wall of laid stone… Should I become the king’s protector, a sampler, for a taste of hemlock, and reap the rich rewards of a job well done, unless I am done in by dining on this course, of course… Or is this the lost remnant of unrequited love, a date never met, literally a fruit not tasted, a memento of a moment not materialized, left behind in hest with heft on heart on broken, on further review, I do not think I like this interpretation… perhaps this is an offering to the goddess of the central, in tribute to this grand oasis laid in the land of no sleep, surrounded on all sides by city streets, taxi keeps and buildings that dare scrape the very rooftop of air itself, a thankful ode, a nod to the one who keeps this trove, a grove, in the middle of all the manic metropolitan bustle and hustle, to the power of that natural spirit that sings in trees, howls across the winds, showers clean with the rain, blankets pure with the snow, I think I like the romantic interpretation of this intention… Or perhaps this is just some cruel trick, waiting for some fool (such as this, me) to pick up said peach grenade to receive a face-full of blasted peach parts, quite humiliated as the secret camera is revealed and all the phones that know no yield, up on the net I go, famous for something I’d rather not, for at least a cycle, face covered in shame and peach cob, no, this makes my hand recoil, I look around quickly to foil this latest plot, but nothing seems amiss, but should I take the chance?
and with all this scheming, mind running, scenario scrubbing, a subtle stranger (as we have not been introduced), has quite gotten on the loose, for behind this perfect peachy day, a squirrel has stopped to eat some fruit… well, I hope the spirit of the park is not amused… but for sure I am off the hook…
Notes: I have to say, sometimes I have no idea where this stuff comes from, well, technically it is me (obvious) but these things just pop in my head, to me, this is whimsy at best, letting my mind stretch and wander into some unknown field and describe the grass there.. if that makes sense, and if you read this it probably makes sense, and for that I say…. thanks…
let me recall for you a tale a tale of two tongs a mated pair paired as long as tongs recall a romance, until. walked… by… thong “this is splitsville baby I’m gone! time to dig into something new!” so he splits, in two, and after much inner weaving she decides the very next evening to grab on her grip and find something new, too two tongs
notes… just one of those that sprung up one me, just amusement, something simple, silly and silly… no idea why this popped in my head, ask the muse, it is not my business man I just work here. leave space in the world for the silly, man is not satisfied on philosophical doldrums alone…. sounds like a good tag line, maybe I could use it on a blog…
40:1
‘is this thing on? check, check, so this guy is gathering animals 2×2, stop me if you’ve heard this one, I’ll be here all month, try the unleavened bread’
40:2
this doesn’t seem so bad
40:3
I am starting to regret flipping a coin over crocodiles and unicorns… should have went with -rock -parchment -cutting tool…
40:5
note to self: lions and sea lions are not related, begrudgingly I had to admit the wife was right about sea horses and sea cows as well…
40:6
renovation note: moving hen house across the ark away from the fox hole
40:7
note to self: next time make more room for the porcupines
40:8
the llamas (well, specifically Lorenzo) spit at my wife, I think she saw me laugh, but I DID warn her about those darn things… and besides, it was hilarious…
40:9
I was doing roll call today and came across a couple of “duck-weasels”, sure, the placard says ‘platypus’ (whatever the hell that is), I swear sometimes I think god is just messing with me
40:10(b)
trying to dry laundry in almost never ending rain really sucks…
40:11
sheesh, of all the things I brought two of, I’m glad I only brought one wife…
40:12
sleeping in the sheep’s quarter’s tonight, note to self: put away diary where wife can not read it
40:14
is now a bad time to mention I might be slightly claustrophobic? I could sure use that water to wine trick right now…
40:15
I wish sushi had been invented… and I can’t even get a decent cigar in this joint…
40:16
Horses and elephants??… I really should have thought this out better from a maintenance perspective…
40:17
things must be getting to me, I had a dream about pandas riding zebras playing polo… and polo hasn’t even been invented yet…
40:18
I envy bears, they can sleep through anything
40:19
note to self: skunks do not like surprises
40:20
how did I miscount the rabbits? there has to be a dozen of them now… addendum: boa constrictor food problem solved
40:21
I came up with a song to pass the time: “100 bottles of shekar on the wall, 100 bottles of shekar, take one down, pass it around, 99 bottles of shekar on the wall”, something seems a little off, I’ll work on it…
40:22
geese and ducks are like in-laws… I’ll leave that up for individual interpretation… I love my in-laws, I really do, of course they were drowned with everyone else, hey, who am I to question god’s judgement (chuckle)…
40:23
I keep telling the pigeons to stay off the sloths but they can’t help themselves I guess, old habits die hard…
40:24
the wife is no longer amused by my weather forecasts…
40:25
I have to tell ya, those kangaroo pouches come in handy when doing repairs, no more trunnels rolling around the old deck, no sir!
40:26 skinks are not “snakes with jazz hands”… geez, some creatures are so persnickety… you make one off handed comment and skinks make a stink about it for days…
40:27
I really should have built a bowling alley on this thing… charades just don’t cut it anymore… and the kids memorized all the trivial pursuit questions (old testament edition (c) )
40:30
note to future people, do not make a movie where the world is all water, just trust me on this one
40:32
everyone’s a critic… why didn’t you build this? why didn’t you build that? what? like I went to school for this? sheesh, damn back boat captains… let’s see you build an ark with no union labor…
40:39
well, there goes that experiment, pigs can not fly, I guess I should try a raven or a dove or something, eh, maybe tomorrow, I don’t want to be late for date night, the wife is already steamed at me, something about the seat being up or whatever…
notes… just some random silliness at what Noah’s diary might look like, well… sort of…
as much as I love rain, and thunderstorms (specifically), sometimes the wonder is shadowed over by angst or perhaps the persistence of the rain, driving in urban new jersey is perilous enough, throw in what looks like the contents of a washer on psycho spin cycle up against your windshield and even the staunchest optimist-acrat can become trodden down, last night was such one of these nights, no end to traffic in site, no accident on my side, not that I can see anyway, the whirring of flashing lights, ambulance, tow truck, fire truck, police, all speak to the seriousness of the wreck I can not even see, but in front is a winding river of endless angry red taillights, behind me a cauldron of various states of humanity, ranging from frustration, to anger, to the begrudging acceptance of fate, this night, a one hour drive stretches miles into two although the toll feels more like years shaved in-artfully off my soul, like a blunt object piercing my skull (think head butting a bowling ball, rinse, repeat), I should know better than succumb, but the seductive sirens sitting there on the concrete medians sing their song seducing, and lure me nearly into the rocks amidst this throng of mass humanity, somehow, by providence, sheer will, experience, and perhaps some blind luck I make it home without a scratch, aside from the aforementioned carved up and beaten about soul, I should know better, and have a firewall in place to brace for such equations, but sometimes 2+2 adds up to more than four, or my math skills have deteriorated past the point or no return, at least for now, I arrive in my driveway, did I mention I hate traffic?
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so this brings me to this morning, nothing unusual there, the humidity is making my car sweat, or perhaps the rain when I slept, no matter, I pop my trunk and water runs out on my arm good enough to soak a sleeve, “ah, continuation” I think, and so it goes, on down the road, same lefts and rights and lights and cars, of course there is an accident by the on ramp, why wouldn’t there be? getting to work on time becomes more of a fantasy than concrete reality, just more salt in the old wound I suspect, and the trek, why would the turnpike be clear this morning, thursdays are for traffic they say, or they don’t, but I think it anyway, anything to keep my mind drifting into road rage, which is a misnomer, I clearly am not mad at the road, the road can not help the lack of planning that has it crowded so, besides the poor thing is out here all hours of night, in all weather, so who am I to gripe? against my fellow man, woman or whatever, perhaps then, I watch people in my mirrors jockey in the lanes like slow motion indy 500 drivers, somehow I think myself better than them as I stay put in my lane, a little pocket of joy pops when I pass them, and a sliver of grrrr when they pass me, just the same, what the hell am I doing contemplating such things? feeling the swirling, like flushing down a drain, the rain is still in the zip code but relenting, and then, as if I texted the sky gods, the sun decided to have a go, a little late, but better now than never, you know one of those times like it seems the sky has opened and the very light of heaven is streaming down ? yeah, something like that… literally as if I had reached up in my basement and pulled that old string attached to the too short chain attached to the rickety light bulb that is probably older than dirt itself (judging by the dust cloud puff), the blazing sunlight bathes my car from hood to rear like a curtain pulling back, and then quite suddenly I felt a sense of, I don’t know how best to describe it, joy ? uplifting… joy? joy-spiration? (sure, that works) I did not literally turn 180 degrees as that would be foolish (and illegal, not to mention dangerous) but my spirit certainly did, in an instant of just abundant joy, from a mere smattering of sunlight revealed, and people wait on street corners for drugs… I should corner the market I tell you (if I could bottle the stuff)… but anyway, the moral of the story, well, OK there is no moral per se, just a reminder, a little spark of joy might just be around the corner (or the next one), so when you get dressed in the morning, remember your underwear (important), lace up your shoes with some hope, attune your ears to receive positive radar pings, warm up your eyes to the idea of possibility, be open to the world… and you may, just may, find a little slice of heaven out there just waiting for your to discover… or even just some crumbs of happiness, I’ll take either or the latter…
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notes… so I will leave you with that, I have a rare weekend off and I am going to venture into the wilds of New Jersey… yes! there are wilds here, mostly coastal salt marshes and such, and sadly I have never been to every corner of my own damn state! shame on me, so I aim to fix that record, I will be traveling near Smithville…. in between some more famous places but after driving by a few times over the years it is time I stopped by and stayed awhile, at least a couple of nights, a king suite with a jacuzzi doesn’t hurt, just sayin’…
if you like the free form and rambling rambling rambling style please visit my Collections & Series page, scroll down to the Essay section… and to all who read this far or this at all, I bow, and say thanks. I do this for me but share it for others to see…
another long standard (read: stressful) day @ the office, I wanted to sit out on the old porch tonight and muse to transport my mind off-world or on-world just somewhere else, the weather, on the other back hand slap, had other ideas, and decided to mess heavily with my commute with continuous walls of rain, so I was burned out by the time I arrived @ home night, much later than hoped, and drained, so I decided what the hell… remember the scene from Shawshank where Andy crawls out from the tunnel? yeah, something like that, I happen to love thunderstorms, the pageantry, the power, the light-show, so… I stepped outside, barefoot as I am known to do these days, and frolicked in the rain like a silly spun child, pouring rain that began to pour more so as I go, so what if I get soaked to the bone, what does it matter, why did I ever care about rain on my shoulders, or hair, or else, I found myself splashing about the puddles on my driveway, still quite warm from a 90 degree blazing sun day, and on the lawn, much cooler, grass reaching up and flooding the gaps in my toes, somehow being barefoot and about outside in the world is a taste of free range, I have been doing it quite often as of late, just not in a torrent of near blinding rain, I twirled around a bit under the street light like a top, hands out, palms up, forgot about any dirt or grit that might be about, pacing slowly pacing on my lawn, flexing my toes like talons to pick up all the sensations, so this is Barry? I thought to myself, how do you do sir, heard a good deal about you, long way to travel just to see New Jersey from the Gulf, but he won’t be in town but for the night, so I say adieu and goodnight, soaked to the skin, I feel refreshed, renewed, relaxed, a localized baptism, experience, why did I ever run from the rain in the past? and why did it take me so long to reconnect to such simple pleasures, kicking around in a puddle without a care of consequence, letting go of all my adult trappings, washed down to the curb, next time I think, however, I should throw on a bathing suit… my knickers are sticking…
Flash update (2AM), just walked the dog, Barry is just clouds now, the sidewalk is still cold, the driveway is still warm (oddly), and the lawn…. damn I just paced back and forth 50 times… it does not get old…. the spinning in the non rain though… eh, not as cool…
this is the weekend, I need to take off my serious hat for a moment, I drive past this one mega church all the time, they have various signs they change on a regular basis, and I must admit some are amusing, today, for whatever reason I thought of something for myself…
struck me as funny, so I will probably be struck down by the powers that be shortly…
Housekeeping! I did a bunch today, totally updated my Collections and Series page, and also got my Porch page up to date (it has been a year… holy shit!)… man, it is hard work but worth it, screw the king’s men, they don’t know how to put me back together again… it is up to me to eat the elmer’s and piece things back together, thanks for being around to check it out… and the rest who aren’t…. ah, you’re missing out…
if ever there was a day, a day to ride the light from dusk ’til dawn, today would be that day, and so it was, and so I did, I would love to tell you it was some great plan of mine, some great scheme, but I would be lying, just the random circumstance of life forcing my hand, would I be droll if I still said “this was a long day”…
that would be both empirically accurate and anecdotally emphatic, because of the way it felt and this is, truly the longest day of the year by actual time measure, but other yardsticks poked their rule-y heads up this day, I had a store to open on the East Side, New York City that is, waking up at 5am to get a jump, showered, the dog walked, rye toast in tow, in the car by 5thirty, cruising, the sun not rising, at least visibly, only rain clouds writing the morning forecast on the canvas out before me, and then, then the faucet opens, full tilt, pouring, all of a sudden my dreams of beating the traffic become being the traffic, I get over the bridge and onto the FDR, I can not say what the “F” stood for this morning but it certainly was not Franklin…
so the freeway was doing it’s best impression of a parking lot, so to have a shot at being on time I hopped off on Park Avenue, making sure to avoid the guy with the sign in the middle of said FDR (a very common occurrence), cut across, 40 blocks down, all the while the rain beguiling me with change of pace, a constant game with my wipers engaged at the right speed, so I arrive, sort of on time, I must admit I scoped out a local coffee joint to try, so I loaded up on a latte, got over to the store grand opening, pouring, pouring rain, a grand total of ten customers in two hours, does not make the time fly I tell you, so the time passes, mostly all goes well, that chore doused, store secure on their own now, noon, around the corner I walk into the parking garage, slap down $38 buckaroos for 5 hours of parking, a guy drives up next to me standing, and rolls down his window “hey, I will only be an hour”
I don’t recall wearing my garage attendant uniform, I look down and check anyway, nope, not today, besides I am holding a mouse and keyboard, not exactly common garage guy fare, from my experience at least, so I cheerfully offer to take the car off his hands (a spankin’ new mercedes sedan no doubt), it would be a nice upgrade after all, he realizes his mistake, and is very apologetic, I wasn’t offended anyway, with that charade passed I make my way back to HQ in jersey knowing there is a pile of files waiting for me to wade through and down, unfortunately, I am quite right about that pile, except little fires keep popping up and I am brigaded to those tasks while the pile grins at me, gleeful, for it knows it has gained a temporary stay of execution, the governor’s call has come in, for today, at least, admittedly the time passes faster in this bowl of hectic, I hardly notice the rain has hopped on a cruise out to sea and given way to delightful golden rays, six o’clock rolls around, predictably, right at 6, I figure over 12 hours is quite enough off this already…
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so here I sit, the day has turned about, this morning was like a dreary monday dragging and now I am leaped to an ending friday, a perfect 70 out, truly a tale of 2 sittings, the sun is slowly sinking, the wind is warmly chilling, two baby jack rabbits are grazing, even the usual rambunctious crowd of local birds are just listening, I look out, at this familiar scene, I loosen up my mind, my body, I let my limbs drop limp, I look out and pretend I am a leaf on one of my trees subject to whim, letting the breeze rock me back and forth, to and fro, swaying, filling my sail as the wind sees fit, setting my compass to none, just letting the ocean of air wash over me in waves, with each moment draining away my worldly cares, whisking away the baggage from earlier in this day, as the curtains close, on this, the longest day… the solstice, from dawn to dusk witness, the solstice.
notes… (porch series) I write these posts in a certain way, I scribble them down in one of my notebooks, try to figure out my horrid handwriting (best done if I type it in the night I write frankly), these are pretty close to rough drafts, one drafts, one take, whatever you might like to label it, I edit it a bit as I post, but that is it… pretty raw, just the way I work these days, I wish I could just run a cable into my mind for you and give you a remote and let you drive… but this is the best I got at the moment, so enjoy, and thanks for the eyes, I appreciate one look, any look, 1 million looks would be nice, but would it make my post any better or any worse ? nah… and I am cool with that, thanks.
so I was driving home from Brooklyn the other night after upgrading a store after hours, not quite late but rather late (1am-ish let’s say), Brooklyn is many things, I might imagine that in your head you probably have a specific image of what that is, Brooklyn I mean, perhaps it is painted by your experience (you’re a local?) or just what you may have read/seen (hipsters, brownstones, the bridge, for me Peter Lugers…), but rest assured Brooklyn is many other things rarely advertised as such, where I was certainly is not a city, certainly not near Manhattan, certainly on the ocean (yes, that ocean), I suppose all of that is not important but I like to supplant what may be fallacy (or fantasy) about a given place, the particular stretch of road I was traversing is the Belt Parkway usually synonymous with hideous traffic, impromptu construction, long term construction, potholes, roving random repair of said potholes, localized flooding, did I mention mind-melting-question-your-ability-to-not-ram-your-car-into one-hundred-peopleoverandoverandover… but thankfully tonight was not one of those occasions (much to my surprise and delight), but still a strange evening, we have all seen fog and the like but this was not what was in sight, I can best describe it as creeping humidity, you could see it, almost touch it, feel like your car was parting the red sea as it was moving through it, the road lighting looked like framed cones of yellow/orange, almost like they were mapped by translucent felt, they stood out from the background like a 3D model, almost like an art project everything was so well fuzzy defined, fuzzy, yes, that would be the best word to accommodate what I was perceiving, although my sight had perfect clarity the world seemed wrapped in fuzzy, on second thought that sounds so non literary, so with a quick search I find one of those cool shiny proper words… “velutinous“, ah, yes, that smacks of upper crust verbiage heritage if I ever spied such a word
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“all about me the world looked velutinous…”
like driving through a dream, every light of every stripe, color, size was captured in cylinders, cones and corridors, I was not the only car on the road but was left unaware of others as I drifted along this inter-bay pathway to my humble door, I thought to myself “can words even describe this properly?”… doubting the very nature of my craft, I felt the impulse to go for my phone and the ever-camera tethered to same, but alas, the lens is not the aperture of my eye and while the phone’s eye will probably be more truthful to your eyes, it will not be what I see from mine. My thoughts in turn eat time like popcorn at so much a carnival, and before I know it I am on the Verrazano, crossing the narrows (although they seem pretty wide from this vantage point), into Staten Island, and then home to my glorious garden state, where sam (the dog) was waiting, blissfully unaware of the magical surreal setting, of the frozen pictures of lights hanging in the humid night, tail wagging, she pees on my irises… oh the dog’s life…
music? as if I had a choice (I am a child of the 80s damnit)…
thoughts, comments, questions and general maladies are all appreciated, as is your time, you have my thanks (I just made a nice gesture with my hands toward you, sure, you can’t see it but I did it just the same)
Shades of My Garden 