Tonight’s lesson in eastern US geography (southwest Maryland)

Tonight’s lesson in eastern US geography (southwest Maryland)

mountain covered by trees
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I am off for the week, thrilled to be in one of my favorite places on the east coast, Scientist Cliffs, MD…  Sure, the weather is not being cooperative (rainy) and driving down I got stuck behind an accident on 95 that had the highway shut down to one lane, but there is something about this place that speaks to me, this is not some resort/tourist area (unlike Solomons just south of here, plus this is not far from Washington DC), in fact all the locals think I am nuts when I tell them I am on vacation, some even recognize me as that guy who they see every year around this time (if you read any of my blog you can tell I am a different bird so no news there), I am not near any major city which for someone who lives in the shadow of NYC is a treat (to actually see the stars and even cosmic dust/galaxies @ night).

This area is known for Miocene era fossils, you literally just walk the beach and find shark teeth half the size of your hand (see some I have found here), man, in Jersey I have to dig and sift for hours to get teeth half as impressive, also this is a completely private area populated originally by scientists (um, hence the name) and one of their requirements was that the homes are log cabins (literally), now these days that requirement has relaxed a bit (the people I rent from call the house next door a McMansion – it is more modern and they only come here on the weekends), but for the most part 80% of the homes are log cabins or at least very rustic, the particular place I rent (the only rental actually, everyone else lives here) is about 100 years old and was built by hand by the patriarch of the family I rent from… they left the cabin as is (they raised their kids here), so it is like renting from family, all the old photos, kid’s art etc are all here on the walls including a deer head mounted on the wall, which creeps me out late at night honestly, there are these gnarly paths down to the beach as well (I am 100ft plus feet above the bay – which makes for amazing sunrises – my photos here), so last night was my first night here and I just had to go greet the bay, to hear the sound of the waves crashing up against the cliffs, I love the sound, it really just calms me, as violent as it actually is, such a natural rhythm plus the wind, it doesn’t need to be a summer or warm, just the tide is alright by me, so as I was saying earlier there are these totally crazy paths down to the beach carved out of the ravines hiding in the spaces of the cliffs, so last night I filmed my walk back and posted it on Youtube… someone should film a horror flick here, all I need is some creepy breathing or music.

I usually do not write creatively when I am here, although I have been reborn as of last april (I don’t mean religiously, I just felt different after an event in my life, that’s all).  I keep journals on me all the time, my car, my backpack etc. So I kind of expect I will write some stuff, but I am not going to force it, well… that is my goal, all we can do is go forward ya know ?

So anyway, I had a rockfish gyro tonight, I don’t especially like Feta cheese, this had Feta, which, to be honest I could have asked before I ordered it (the dish turned out to be very good), but I wanted to get something different than I usually order @ Stoney’s (seriously the crab cakes are just heavenly), but I will go back and order what I usually do, the neptune platter (an assortment of broiled seafood), of course I racked out first with a 6 pack of raw oysters, and I learned something, they serve raw oysters with:

cocktail sauce

horseradish (diced up separate)

lemon

lots of crackers

So… I love raw oysters (actually I prefer clams) but the crackers threw me… what the hell are they for in this application ? So I asked the bar maiden who told me people eat the oysters on the crackers (I thought maybe they crumbled the crackers over them?)!  So strange to me, I have had oysters up and down the east coast from New Hampshire to the Carolinas… I have not seen this particular application, ever, I guess I never paid attention here as I have been coming for years but kind of cast off the crackers… did I try it their way?  no… I like to taste the oysters, the brine, the grit, I chew them, I like to know the flavor of the water in which they grew, and in this case they are so mild growing in a bay, I was just recently in Cape May and of course the best oyster there is the Cape May Salts, and they taste of the ocean, which I dig, but these were also great, so clean and light, a little smaller than some but a little Tabasco, lemon, and cocktail sauce on the quick dip, and let them melt in your mouth, that is where it is at… well, at least for me, and well, this is my blog after all… will I try the oysters “their” way.. hmmm maybe, I have to be open but I know what I like, maybe just one out of a dozen I might sacrifice to these heathens…

The weekend ritual (or regular programming here)

The weekend ritual (or regular programming here)

gray and brown building on body of water under cloudy sky during daytime
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I post some less complicated thoughts or poems on the weekend, it’s my trend, my thing, my jam, my (insert overused cliche of your choice here), so without further bent…

ancient antique archaeology architecture
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5/31/18

I walk among the ruins

broken columns

empty tombs

consumed

I search for you

traces of my heart

broken strewn about

piles of rock rubble

I can no longer gather

to put us back together


close up of woman holding condom
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

rush lust” 6.20.18

I want to turn you on

turn you over

turn you out

I want to bend you over

stretch you still

and make you

scream my name

out loud


animal bay beach bubbles
Photo by Porapak Apichodilok on Pexels.com

7.6.18

singular jellyfish

adrift

in the unending ocean

tentacles,

reaching

longing

tied to the binds of the currents

trade-winds and tides-whims

unable to swim

drifting

casting nets

in hopes of catching life,

swept up onto the shore

drifting, no more.My Site


music? hmmm…  for some reason I just have been getting back into the byrds… and this song is totally timeless imo…

The Byrds – Turn! Turn! Turn!

edit 1:33am, just noticed that if you look at the content I went from love, to sex, to jelly… that is all I am going to say… figure out the rest yourself if you get my drift. It was totally not on purpose, that is the crazy thing, maybe it was sub-conscious?

The cycle of life…

The cycle of life…

light sunset people water
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So apparent in the turn of seasons, I lived in south Florida for some time and the seasons definitely don’t have the same flair, much like skin things just get olden and golden (like worn leather) over time down there, palm trees with xmas lights are surely a strange site, I guess being born in the North US I just got used to the passing of seasons, seeing the great burst of spring, the roiling of summer with the lure of the shore, and the eventual fall into winter (barest of all).  So, I totally forgot I wrote this little poem, again, sometimes you just write something and like it, maybe not my best thing, but it is surely a piece of me laid out in my little notebook in my god awful handwriting…

born again” 8.28.2018

is there a cleansing pool

in which I may drown and emerge

upon the other side

washed of you

 

is there a prancing fool

who believes such things

staring back in the mirror

he surely is

 

no chains, no binds, no bonds,

nothing to break, but might I wake

with a clear conscience of mind

one time –

to see a new day, with these weary eyes

 

as light bends on the back of morning land

reaching out with new warmth

to begin again –

rebirth.


Music to contemplate life to ?  Yeah, I got that covered… some lovely ambient musings.. check out “sutra spin” also, one of my all time favorite ambient albums (it is more active ambient if ya get my groove)

How it happens (tragedy).

How it happens (tragedy).

brown cathedral
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10.28.2018

the sight that blinds

a seed, a thought, an insidious demon

grows with just a husk of perceived truths

fed the right diet, the right light

grows as sure as the instructions on the packet

growth is a toll,

requires space and resources in multiplying folds

this is not prophecy, this is known outcomes –

for one human to kill another

because one is perceived as less

worth less than your very own,

the demon has grown, to know

and whisper into very thought,

all starts with a seed and the room to grow


notes… this is what I wrote thinking about Pittsburgh, I was on my porch but I don’t think it fits that series or my art.

Thoughts from the porch (continued series)

Thoughts from the porch (continued series)

autumn autumn colours autumn leaves beautiful
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From the porch (series)

10.28.2019

remnants of the rain remain

seeping out from welcome mats

on the underside of fallen leaves

huddled in patches of patchwork

for what little warmth they might gather

all the colors littered

like a parade route after

after the crowd is gone,

all revelers, peddlers nearing dawn,

one last hurrah before last embrace

a dance, a chance, to perceive the delay

to spin frantic all without a know

well all the while, the signs all point

all sight lost in whirling dervish delights, for now

until we awake into the next morn

branches sparse, the snare of cold breath

a frost

we retreat to our dens and hearths

and wait.


notes… we just had a Nor’easter here so it is almost the last cruel insult to the leaves… they are clinging for dear life knowing they will all be stripped bare dead and here comes this horizontal rain fall and ripping wind to take away their spark, the aftermath is all these leaves, some even green, strewn about like a total mess, so I was commenting on all that and larger themes of the season.


not sure why I am going this way…

Faith No More – Epic

Michael Patton… a fascinating dude…

Hey !  thoughts, comments, arguments, follows, ice cream, and angry harangues are always appreciated !!

The garbage we see…

The garbage we see…

grey beverage bottle
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We see garbage, and refuse every day, especially in urban centers, what do we do ?  I pick up what I can, I carry bags to pick up litter, whenever I hike I bring a bag and collect anything that should not be there, am I some hero ? hell no.  but a little effort goes a long way, see some flotsam ? take some action. I am not some radical environmentalist, just do we need to see garbage flying about the streets ?  Pick it up, do the simple things, it is just like smiling, do the little things. So… I was driving home tonight from a customer sight (and damn I have an email to shoot out, thanks for reminding me) and saw in the intersection of Magnolia and Oak Tree Road some dancing things due to the wind, it turned out to be garbage… and it inspired this…

the fault of the wind 10.27.2018

there was no parade, today
human debris
plastic bags, paper, not leaves
’tis the fault of the wind
pages dancing swirling on corner ends
across my path, to fast to catch
blown on by
into the trees and the oceans
’tis the fault of the wind

More poems from the beach (and an anecdote)…

More poems from the beach (and an anecdote)…

sea beach sand sun
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These were written @ Higbee beach in Cape May NJ known for “Cape May Diamonds“, also if you walk far enough south you hit Sunset Beach with the USS Atlantus (a concrete hull ship that sank just offshore), a little ditty about Higbee, I went there to find some new/less used beaches on vacation (when I am on the beach I am interested in walking the tide and looking at nature not sunbathing), so I walked all the way down the beach south (about 1.2 miles) from where Higbee meets David Douglass park (Cape May / Lewes ferry), so, in my infinite wisdom I decided to take the nature trail back instead of the beach… oh boy, first, I was wearing my crocs, and they ain’t walking shoes, secondly I left my sun screen and other stuff out of my pack because this is october and well… I didn’t expect 80 degrees and blazing direct burning sun ! so… I was hella wrong, it was like I was moses trekking through the wilderness, all sand (and if you have tried to hike in sand you know how much fun that is! – not!), sand and scrub brush… and a winding trail more confusing than choose your own adventure books, it was torture, I still have the remnants of blisters on my feet (2 weeks later), winding paths not in the scrub forest, all out in the open in the valleys of dunes just off the beach which I thought I was near the surf (but every time I endeavored to find it I couldn’t), and of course there was no other people on this trail, thankfully I have a good deal of hiking experience from my youth @ camp Sequoia in the Catskills, so after 3 hours of hiking (and cursing) I finally made it back to civilization (the parking lot), man, it sucked…. I am a hard headed person but this wore me down certainly, so maybe that adds to the ingredients of my poetry ? maybe… so here it is…

Upon Higbee Beach, Cape May NJ 10.8.2018

I walk the beach whole

I learn the shore lines

the neighborhoods of waves

the bindings of tides

between dunes and break,

I stride casually

soft wet sand sinking slightly under foot

beach sandals in one hand by straps

walking over footprints fading

as if I’m never there,

passing sun bathers and gazers

wondering what sort of tide brought them in

and from what inland shores

accents and manners float

in and out with a subtle roar

ghost crabs, run to their burrows

horseshoes right themselves

deft barb on tail

turning like clocks in the coming surf

turning to noon out to sea

these ancient ambassadors

far older than these


Upon Higbee Beach (pt 2), Cape May NJ 10.8.2018

the sand, the sound

the tide, the wind

broken footsteps trail off

the sun travels deliberately across the sky

the beach is low, for now, exposed

tide peels and shipwrecks, and their crews be told

left up upon the beach, stranded until tidal moon

or worse yet

found by the mouth of a hunting gull,

time seems to stand still, even within all this motion

but if ever there was a picture frame

to explain the seduction of passing time

this is that masterpiece

a picasso, a davinci, a michealangelo’s chapel

so easily this recognized among all other work

for this, strokes struck by nature herself

my own steps break off into the distance now

as if a part of this whole existence

at least for a little while

at least, for this memory

as least, nor that moment passed, just now

From the porch (continuing series)

From the porch (continuing series)

america american flag architecture bridge
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This is part of my “from the porch” series where I am writing from my, um, porch, just channeling whatever comes in on the antennae, so without further delay…

10.24.2018

long gone are the soft summer nights

on this night full moon high

the august sun, is faded words on bristled pages now

the silence – – –

the silence and the still drowns out

still, desperate leaves cling

on the now loudly breeze, passing

once comfort now certain coming

for all fruits shall meet the earth

and ground, and fall, and rot

in the cold space, as the calendar turns

hope is easily dashed upon these shores

lashed by what was no more

the world retreats curls into a womb

to be born again anew (with hope)

so might a slumber rest

and unshined eyes forget

dreams to carry through this death

may a door emerge on waking breath

The infinite universe of the recipe of individuals…

The infinite universe of the recipe of individuals…

white and gray chevron print recipes book
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Think about it.  No, REALLY think about it.  Every person you run into (ouch) or meet is a complete happenstance of a confluence of a great everything, a mass of variables so vast as to ache even the most agile human mind – the time you are born, when, where, how, parents, grandparents, that great great great great aunt that crossed some river for a flower way back when, all of these possibilities became you… or someone, there will never be anything the same as you @ this exact moment, or the next, think about that the next time you get mad… can you possibly know everything that baked the cake you are mad at ?

so on that subject… I wrote this @ my desk today, it was something bouncing around my head for a few days now, mostly I need to be (or am) immediate or I lose the lines, this one flowed out without doubt at my lovely inspiring cubicle…

thoughts and comments (on anything) are appreciated as are million dollar donations as alas.. I did not win the powerball drawing the other night (I was so damn sure too…), anyhoo… this blog is my thoughts (all this verbose blathering) and poetry, so onto that part of the exercise…

the bridge 10.24.2018

there is a man crossing

the bridge, across the road

I am driving on

I do not know

his destination

merely the other side

I assume,

a moving snapshot, a video clip

of memory now

so much in a time stamp

a story untold

or what I may imagine

a life, an entire life

there in a moving picture

an entire existence

passed on by

on a bridge

across the road

I was driving by.


Music ?  sure, being I am a creature of the habit note…

Eric Gales – Don’t Fear the Reaper (B.O.C. cover)

Eric was lauded as a kid as being a guitar prodigy but got sort of forgotten for some years.  I first got into him in 1993… and he is making a real name for himself now (rightfully so).  He is right handed but plays upside down left handed (that is just the way he learned so it is natural to him).   Great player, check him out if you get the chance.

Simple thoughts for the week’s end…

Simple thoughts for the week’s end…

nature beach holiday sand
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As is my purview I like to post some simple thoughts, or even incomplete ones on the weekend, heck, even god rested on the seventh day, can’t I ?


9.19.2018

plant a flower, because

a buried bulb, becomes

a light in spring

a germinated seed

will explode, break through earth

paint the landscape

in brush strokes

splashes color


9.22.2018

a package left at my doorstep

postmarked by god

with no return address


9.22.2018

the sky is mud

the rain slides

hurricane rain, drives

rivers swell, rivers wide

flood stage left

rising waters, surging tide

relentless intent


9.28.2018

an old hollowed out log

lying in a bog

in a fog

I read dr seuss

to my son

unaware

of what I’ve become


Blue sky Friday 10.7.2018

stairs

of clouds

ladders

climbing to stars


10.7.2018

why would I move on

when all my instincts

tell me to hold on


Music … ?  I am going deep into my mind here… something back from college days, Liv from Norway introduced me to them and the Sugar Cubes (hello.. Bjork)

Ride – Vapor Trail

Ride – Seagull

Sort of the Euro version of REM… sort of .. ?  definitely alt, interesting vocals, drum sound, and guitar patterns.

And as always… thank ye, thank ye, thank ye if you read any of this, likes and follows are always cool, if you got a blog you think I should read, leave a comment (I rarely check my email, I’m bad with that).