“contrast and choice“ a bird with a broken wing falling unforgiving ground silence
a bird with a broken wing flailing the sounds of suffering but surviving, no longer able to reach up and touch the sky must learn how to walk content up on the land imbued with the joy of life of grounded sound
music… something you have never heard probably, introduced to me in college back in the early 90s, sort of euro indie, thanks to liv from iceland who popped this on me back in the day, I miss those times and a couple of the people… I remember the signed sugarcubes album in the window of the local vinyl store… so here you go…
all thoughts, recipes (seriously I love cooking, I could do a whole blog on that alone but I stick to this nonsense as it is more personal), likes, hates, comments, vicious take downs of my posts…. I welcome any eye glow, I can handle it, I am who I am and I am glad to be examined, after all my time here is quite limited, so, what’s the difference…. thanks.
I could sense a palpable sigh as the rain began to fall, as if the ground was tired of holding up the heat and wished to heave the warmth back into the sky, I watched the lightning coming in, the breeze as an emissary picking up, I am in no hurry to run for cover, this is a welcome rain, I have seen days that hit three digits, I have seen heat waves, so this was not some panic toxic today, just a nod to not be working out in the yard, better to dip your feet in the water and sip on a frozen pina colada by the neighbor’s pool, some would say my mother raised a fool, but at least not this day, so anyway, back to the rain, I am not sure if it is perception, reaction, or imagination, the change seems swift, the temperature drops like a bullet, plummets, not very scientific of me, just the feel, the hair on my arms as the weather stations reporting the local condition, my dog rolling around on her back, in the grass, getting all wet, she does not like to be clean, she’s over ten years old now, so she has earned the privilege of her particular needs, so I let her roll around until her dog heart is content…
Photo by Rodrigo Souza on Pexels.com
why is lightning so fascinating ? the largeness of it? the semi magical seeming nature of it? the perceived and real danger? Even though we mostly know technically what lightning is… does that remove the wonder? not for me, maybe not for you. the rain is coming now, the breeze with subtle trumpets has announced, and you can hear the sheets creeping, falling, advancing, feet from me now, an errant drop scout here and there in my hair, I was facing the wrong direction, somehow, the rain snuck up on the rear while the light show distracted the front of house, nature, she has been at this a good deal longer than I, she will always have the upper hand no matter how smart I might project to be, the only question now is, how wet do I care to be? no soak tonight, I casually stroll back to my door as it now really cracks the sky to pour, I hear the symphony of downward water pounding on the leaves, increasing, I call out to sam to “come inside”, she obliges, her little happy bouncing gate in stride, and back I go, the weight of the heat of the day lifted, I look forward to open skies in the morning.
I turn, in a flash I see things that do not exist memories and flashbacks of this from when you were alive as if standing right there by my side can not feel more real as these thoughts are mine not tangible with hands or reason stretched inside it curls and throes the emptiness your absence exposed
“Shower in the AM” memory trigger every day I engage in this morning ritual today, flashed to the past -a quite unexpected break, from the norm
hot waterfalls flowing down the curved contours of your back and my hands float soap foam follows and accents down, your palms upon on my chest jet hair black back our eyes lock sensual glare our bodies locked bare knowing someone else’s body as close as yours in this downpour
I remember our apartment room for two and a zoo, the time we were together, in love
a simple shower a tiny detail of that life I had forgotten, tried to forget how could I have forgotten the reminder back to the present. you are not here – I dry off, and go to work.
notes… this is a very personal one, I wrote it back in may, completed it (as it were) today, sort of just a revision, I don’t know if I will ever shake her, probably not honestly, I hope for her sake she has forgotten me, I don’t wish anyone to be mired in this, sometimes I feel it like an anchor but tell myself I have not drowned so it can not be… it can not be… for I am here, I am trying to love her and yet allow for love to replace what is gone by my own hand, so there is guilt there, and truth, and love… I wish I had the strength to just cut through it all like I know I have to… but I don’t, I am searching, and I am optimistic, I am always optimistic…
I dare you to find a finer vocalist… jasmine is friggin ridiculous. This tune was the theme song for perhaps one of the best anime series ever made – LAIN, it is like the matrix on crack, watch it, it is heady and smart.. and the soundtrack? well… astounding…
and .. thanks for all the likes, comments, quiche recipes and whatnot… I am enjoying interacting with you all, thanks (I bowed).
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…
sometimes Ithink of slogans, or slug lines, or t-shirt sayings, sometimes they are poems or something else… these both came to me tonight in my car driving home, stuck in traffic on the GSP, a theme for me, sometimes traffic gets me down, sometimes I am inspired, tonight, I must admit I was listening to the new Tycho album and just digging it, it transported me, away from all the base garbage of the sitting in traffic experience, even the fumes in the rest area did not confound me, maybe it will kill me in the long run, but right now? I feel pretty good. I do not have the love of a partner but I do have life, so at least I have possibility still… and that is enough (sometimes)…
Photo by Justin Hamilton on Pexels.com
(1) beacon may I cast light out into the world unto you and be a beacon in dark times may I remember and be reminded of the light within and be a beacon of truth and of love
Photo by Ivandrei Pretorius on Pexels.com
(2) inspire, be that light to guide others forward into their own
clouds laid out like a flight of stairs up the sky onto the moon my dreamer’s heart rise to fly above destiny’s bounds to part this mortal ground my eyes do not gaze into the cold death of space no stars dwell in the twilight now the sensation of ascension enamors my imagination to that known twin, ancient friend in this time of bright when dimmed, the promise of return might I ascend
notes: I looked up @ the sky and the clouds looked like a staircase…. and I thought… do I have the hops ? (I don’t know why this video made me laugh so much…)
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Sometimes feelings sweep over me, I can not explain, it is like revelation burst, just something changes, a realization, this is not always a pleasant experience, today, I stepped out into the sun soaked summer day, for the utterly mundane task of putting out the garbage, the sun felt great on my back, my bare feet warmed on the driveway, I avoided stepping on sharp pebbles, all seemed OK, but I then just felt a wave, who the hell am I? how the hell did I get here right now? surely this is not the be-end of my dreams of years ago, am I even recognizable from that? externally? in my mind I am the same person all this time, I think, but how did I get here, I feel lost, I feel out of place, I feel I have no place, logically I know I am living a life far greater than many in this world, I know this intellectually but can not get it to sing in my bones, like I think it should, how did I get here? I feel like foreigner in my own land, walking the garbage bin out to the curb I feel out of place in a place I have known so well and so long, as if I was sitting on a train, speeding past my life, a decade spent, gone, a decade gone, spent, just riding along watching the landscapes blur by, nothing of consequence happens, just time passes, and here I am, off the train, at this stop, barely recognizing the universal familiar, I feel lost, adrift, knowing who I am but not how I fit, how did I get here?
change is a fickle thing, I have made progress this year from here to there, I’m just not back yet, I can not say I have lived in the lands of despair but I surely indulged in the rituals of same, denial of the self, finding it easier to retreat into a shell, to autopilot, to become a passenger to my own life, in all I must remember that the way up and out is not a straight line, it never will, but sometimes I am reminded how far I have not gone, the failures, the lure and comfort of normalcy, of conformity, of base expectation when I am capable of much more, but only the internal knows the true potential, it is draining, at times the energy is not there, I must retain to summon the cost, for it is worth every moment here on this earth, I struggle to find the strength, on this night, at least, I must find the missing ingredient.
(music, sort of gothic depressing, with violins… just my mood today)
I wrote this out on the porch tonight, not as cheery as some of the other posts, but it was just not in me tonight, I will not pretend or cover things up, this blog is who I am, mostly bright and optimistic but my mind does wander and wonder as there are horrors in this world, and the ultimate horror of our demise, my mind gnaws on things, it is my design, so I am consumed with trying to figure things out, no matter how futile… at times it will dull my blade, maybe even break it… but I will not quit until it quite literally kills me…
Thanks to any and all of you “ones” that read this, comment, think about it etc. I consider you all Ones… individuals, so cheers to you, and thanks again…
“I remember when grandpa would take us to the pier that stuck way out in the water, he seemed to know everyone with a smile, there was always our spot waiting, he said he owned the spot, he taught us all about fishing and mostly that you don’t catch fish, but he always had a smile in his salt beard, and loved telling us stories about his time in the navy and all about the ocean, we didn’t mind hearing the same stories, we always got a nutty buddy or push pop or if we were really lucky a bomb pop! from the ice cream truck all the way over there, mom would always be mad because we got sunburn or forgot something on the pier, but with grandpa the world was like our carousel.”
(fictional, made up in my head when I saw the scene laid out before me, photos from the 69th street pier in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn, Friday night, I was there again today… amazing place tucked in almost hidden right off a major highway and Brooklyn… seriously insane views of Manhattan which I will be posting soon)
they see – saw she – saw their – love balanced each – other
notes: visual and minimal was my goal, you decide if I met the mark, just one of those little poems that came to me for no reason I can ascertain… and I will leave you with that, I have some cool stuff to post this weekend, I went out of my way today to find some local beauty (find beauty wherever it may be is one of my guiding functions these days), I have some cool photos to post from a little excursion I made, oddly no words came to me, I wrote nothing although I brought my journal and got some looks…. “why is this business dressed guy holding a leather bound book/journal thing, smiling and walking out on the pier in the middle of this heat??” – yeah, I imagine I illicit that mental conversation… I stick out, but I try really to not care anymore and just do my thing… I am getting there… one day I will shake hands with myself and sigh “finally…”
Shades of My Garden 