catch the snow, catch the moment…

January 20, 2020 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

the first real snow of the season, easy to admire the beauty, that childish urge to rush to the window to observe the wonder, even at work, back at my desk, I feel the urge, so I do, scurry out for a peak or two, a proper snow storm looks like it will never end, “is it sticking” is the always refrain around these parts, and today, yes, the ground was quite cold enough, as when I woke up there was a 25 sitting in the thermometer, well, on my phone app, so the world was quite prepared for the coating, that pristine white coating, like all perfect things the shelf life is quite fleeting, so instead of losing the moment, I decided to drive down a few miles from the office, a place I have been before, but sometimes there are a few too many people there for my taste, for me to enjoy the view in a singular fashion, this evening, not so much, not a soul, a historic place, a bridge to nowhere these days, but there is just something about places like this that remind you of the age of land and the faint of man, footprints, so many, have crossed this path, even founding fathers, british soldiers, and now just adjacent to an ordinary brick duplex apartment complex, such the juxtaposition, the position of this relic, preserved, of the past, in cosmic time a blink, in our time many lifetimes since, times we can only read about in books, the time that made the faces on our bills and coins in our pockets, a war, so long forgotten that those we fought are considered our closest friends in the world, a big brother, so to speak, we even love, as people, to follow the comings and goings of their royals, once the ones with the very thumbs that capped our freedom, to be in a place, from that time, this was not America, this was an extension of a foreign power, a foreign hand, so so long ago it seems, so here we are…

epilogue: I leave, quite cold from ‘braving’ (not very brave but my hands were cold) the weather, clicking photos and capturing videos out by the water, the snow is already turning, the plows are churning scraping down the blocks, by the time I get home there is full on rain, the once monolithic white blanket is mere ice soup, with clumps of cream left here and there where the rain has not corrupted yet, and I pause to think back, at least I caught the time, the moment, took the time, spun in the storm, captured a moment, now gone.

this place is New Bridge Landing (more info here), and they hold events as well…

claus-trophobia on x-mas…

December 26, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

japanese lucky coin cat — Photo by Miguel Á. Padriñán on Pexels.com

as is the x-mas tradition I grew up with, the family gets together, and we order from the only place that is open, the local chinese place, it is not even a particularly good one, we always say we are going to do something else, but never do, we settle on the familiar, of course options are limited, there are only so many things you can do on x-mas, I have sampled the few other goods, there is always the movies, for some reason, they are always open, I suppose it takes minimal staff to press play and shower some popcorn with golden delicious butter, been there done that, and nothing in the cinema is pulling me toward the theater so… there is always Atlantic City, throw away some dough at the mere chance of making piles more, AC (as we jersey folk slang it out) is a desolate town on x-mas, just fellow jews and chinese mostly, this makes sense of course, all up and down casino row you can go, any slot machine you care to, any table for any action, like having the town to yourself, nah, done that before, so here we are, ordering the inevitable chinese take out (delivery was going to take an hour, and seriously, the place is 5 minutes away), so we huddle to determine the order…

eat printed paper — Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Pexels.com

like a fool, I don’t go with a staple, something I know will be mediocre but expected, I choose something off the grid, on the back fold, thinking that in all my experiences with this particular restaurant I was going to encounter some x-mas miracle with my order, “singapore chicken” – on the menu as: ‘diced chicken with fresh garlic and mushrooms’, sounds good to me, no dishwater wanton or undersized egg-roll this year, I am actually looking forward to the dish, I depart out…

they said 25 minutes, which in the chinese take out world screams “we’re really busy”, which makes sense, being the only game in town, I arrive, the parking lot is mysteriously… not empty, but not busy either, a smattering of cars just under a dozen, “bonus!” I think, I park, away from the other cars, it’s something I do, I approach on foot, better news, there is not a person in the vestibule, again, a sign they are not as busy as times in the past packed in like sardines, the outer door breaks some sort of security vacuum and makes the other door slam a bit announcing my arrival of sorts, I glance toward the take out table, but no, there are no gleaming packages waiting for me there, no matter, I approach the counter and give my name, sure, my stuff is not ready yet, although I am past the prescribed 25 by a few, I sink back into a corner next to the soda fridge, of course there are cans of soda, I don’t think I have ever seen a chinese place with fountain drinks, the place is near capacity, but no one else is waiting, I’m comfortable, for the time being, I do a little people watching, half expecting a familiar face, the only one is the girl, well, woman now who runs the place, she was in my high school class, she’s aged well, in walks another patron, table for two, accommodated but they are running out of space to sit the in house patrons, another fellow take out-er comes in, the take out table is still bare, so +1 is no waiting there, then a family of four to seat, and two more ordering take out, suddenly I feel penned in, up against the wall, almost quite literally, sure, it has been only 10 minutes but now seconds bleed minutes in my darting mind, there are now people waiting in the vestibule, blocking my escape route, how anxiety ratchets up the mind, the clock hits 45 minutes since my initial order, part of me wants to bail, but others are counting on my return, so I have no choice to bear out this quest, I try to distract myself, look around at all the silly baubles and trinkets you would expect, that cat waving a hand, the tacky toothpick dispenser, a ceramic junk ship replica, I find a little amusement in the Merry Xmas balloons all about, clearly these are not revelers in house tonight, and then another take out client walks in, he does not look too happy, I think he notices the table of take out is quite absent of orders, every time the kitchen doors swing open I am ready to pounce, certainly a great set up for disappointment, I try to play it cool of course, but I am anything but, I feel blocked in, everyone is in bulky jackets, and then one final creaky swing, a form emerges bag in each hand, could this possibly be… for me? finally? and my name rings out like cool splash quench on a scorching day, the masses part (all five of them) and I depart, meal in hand, ready to return for the x-mas feast, it all gets unpacked, the condiments bag gets dumped out, the dry noodle packages get distributed to those with soup, the green tea bags? eh… no one ever uses them, I unlock my plastic lid, eager to see this newfangled thing, then I see it, imagine strips of chicken the size of half a band aid fried (and resembling same), with some quartered button mushrooms thrown in that almost assume the same color, yes, this does not look so appetizing, but maybe I am wrong, so I try some, and maybe I was right, how can fried be… bland ? and somewhat moist, not even crunchy, I decide to just pile on the red pepper flakes to get through, even then the taste is sparse, not even a bamboo shoot or water chestnut to add some texture to the bunch, everyone (who ordered normal things) seems intrigued with my dish, so, heck, I let them pitch in… this is x-mas after-all…

Travel Log: Millville, NJ (in dark winter rain, and what’s in a name)

December 18, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

green pine trees — Photo by Brandon Montrone on Pexels.com

I had the, ahem, pleasure of driving down to a corner of my state I certainly do not visit often, but Monday night I was tasked with a software upgrade in these forsaken lands, normally you would not think (I did not) of parts of New Jersey being south of parts of Delaware, well, now I am aware as this locality is due south of Wilmington, funny how perception is, we (new jersey types) always think of Delaware as due south of here (well, it mostly is), but that does go to show how off the main heartbeat and arteries this joint is, it is not barren by any means, they have their share of Targets and Walmarts, just a whole hell of a lot of land in between them, you hear a name like “Millville” and do not associate it with much, but it is funny how things have origins, this was literally a Mill Town (seems obvious, I know), founded somewhere around 1720, and next door to this town is Glassboro, you know, where they blow glass, seems simple enough, if you look around your own state such simple names pop out all over the place, and they tell you about the history (or lost history) of the area, there is Marlboro, no not a cigarette thing, the history goes back to the 1600s and the area became famous for… wait for it… “marl“, never heard of it ? me neither, but apparently it was the goods back in the day before commercial fertilizers came about, in fact there are other towns with the moniker, like Marlton, then you get into more obscure named things like “Furnace”, this was a designation of a foundry or iron works, mostly in the pine barrens (you know, where the Jersey Devil is rumored to live), there is Weymouth Furnace, Hanover Furnace, Gloucester Furnace (eh, you get the idea),
…and then there is the colorful or animal themed ones like Red Lion and Hog Wallow, to the strange and mysterious like Ong’s Hat, even on to the ominous Double Trouble (seriously)
…anyway, my trip down south was quite uneventful, full of traffic, enraging traffic, did I mention traffic (where rte 42 meets 55 is mind-numbing), bleak black rain, cold rain but not cold enough for snow or ice, just the type that drips on your neck from some building corner or tree and chills your spine with a flinch, or smacks your ear on the dime, the town is quite barren but I was not in the town center to be fair… but the name of the town got me thinking, and writing, so many simple things in a name, all around us, especially in this area of the states, the original colonies, there is a lot of history here, and probably wherever you are, whether it be 100 years ago or 50, there is something hiding in the corners and cubbyholes of your state I bet, check them out when you get a chance… you might find something unexpected.

thanks for the look, the like, the time, if you like what I do or have any suggestions comments are always respected….

and the difference in a day…mere hours separate…

December 13, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

winding road photography — Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

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.

Metaphors metamorph on the way to work…

December 12, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 1 Comment

“mountains“

I wonder about peaks and valleys, and which I am in, the grind, three days of mind wrenching winding traffic, each day a new excuse for this vile serpentine of red braking lights, stops and starts, twenty some odd miles that stretches into hours, three days of unrelenting mess, monday, rain, somehow rain is anathema to brains, I truly can not explain the phenomena, I don’t enjoy being late, but I don’t rather leave even earlier and wait, and wait some more, tuesday, more of the same, not sure of the problem that day, an accident rumored in the truck lanes, perhaps, makes no sense that traffic on a separate road is slowed due to an unseen wreck, that wrecks the entire morning, that feeling, when you finally make some progress but then look at the sign ahead and realize you barely have made headway or halfway, and then maddening local ordinances make street parking an asinine adventure, a loop d loop traverse around the neighborhood until a proper, semi-legal spot is found, for now, only to run out and move the car in an hour, to avoid the local ticket brigade, more than happy to enforce the one inch you crossed toward the end of the block, then there is today, wednessday, snow in the forecast, snow on the car when I left the house, none on the road mind you, barely any on my hood mind you, but like rain snow apparently blinds cognitive ability, and certainly motor vehicle functionality, I begin to wonder if I am a mountain, being sucked under into a subduction zone, for at least then I will melt and be remade into vibrant new magma, but these days I feel more like an old mountain, bordered on the sea with waves pounding upon me relentlessly, eroding me, piece by piece, grain by grain, into the ocean, dissipated among the shores barely aware of my once mighty mountain cohesion, death by a thousand laps but death just the same, like slowly sinking, one day realizing your height has left on permanent vacation, maybe it is all this gray, the concrete median, the asphalt, the lack of sun for three days, the shorter days, the monotony of urban construction projects in bland display, I always thought to myself why don’t they decorate some of these bridges with art, these damn drab bridges crossing over, all the same, one by one without a name, not deserving of one either, overpass number such and such, just past mile marker such and such, and spiraling down thus, I look up, there is snake rock, NYC skyline off in the distance, the snow is just enough, just enough to coat things evenly, like a beautifully breaded perfect recipe, just enough so you can see the original lines under of everything, the tree branches, the rock outcrops, not so bad I thought, finally my exit reveals around, still a little late this morning but nothing out of total bounds, I pull up to the office, make that left I always make, and behold a spot right in front to take, or even three, hard to believe, I feel like a kid stealing a candy bar from a grocery store, I twice look around, I know to heart all the local laws, today is not a restricted day, here is not a restricted spot, for once I have to give in, and believe in my luck, so perhaps this is hump day after all, and I am at the top of said mountain, not realizing I was climbing, all this time.

notes… does this need any ? curious of your thoughts after reading this…. are there any other commuters out there? hello? is this thing on ? tap … tap … tap ….

The Three Wise Guyz of Pepe’s Cove…

November 29, 2019November 29, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

I have a not so tall tale to tell, I can relate, at this point, looking back, not that far, a few day’s past last actually, at this point, present, I am not sure if perhaps I was riding through a vision, a south jersey spiritual calling or hallucination (or just plain old reality), that morning on that beach, the so named cove, that I happened upon, quite on purpose in fact, the beach should be abandoned this time of year, only the domain of the seagulls and wandering fools such as myself, so stumbling up the roughly hewn sandy path through the dunes, I was quite surprised, that I was not alone, and those three figures seemed equally surprised to receive a visitor, to this piece of particular real estate, their kingdom, their court, clearly their land and personal port on the atlantic sea, being from somewhat the surrounding area, and familiar with local customs (hopefully), I gave the old Jersey nod, almost like tipping your hat but with no hat, sort of a head bob, and the long time honored verbally thick greeting “how ya’ doin”, thankfully my attempt at basic communication was satisfactory with three “how ya’ doin”s sent back in my direction, I was through the gate, they slipped immediately back into their inter-casual ball busting banter, I take a quick survey of the crew trying not to look like I was taking a quick survey, so I pretended to scan the beach, like some desolate deserted desert on the ocean there is literally nothing around but sand, and the dunes to frame the borders between here and the water, and this must have been low tide, the lowest of low tide as the water’s edge seems miles away, almost a different country all together, the three wise guys see this as well, and surmise, “I’ve never seen the water out like this, too far, too far”, and then the leader (my assumption), from his throne of gleaming white plastic and matching too small table, remarked “this is what happens when you have one of those sunami things”, nods of approval from the other magistrates follow, I get a good glimpse of the three now, the king (the only one wearing a crown as it were) seated in the middle and slightly back, knitted wool hat adorned with yarn pom pom for circumstance and rank, his robe the jacket of the local football team, no not the eagles (thankfully), the giants (my team as well, he must be a wise king), he is flanked by what seem like his guards, filling in, perhaps filling out their member’s only jackets in faded blue and black respectively, old man sneakers, and white sox, very white sox, complemented by mom jeans, and all three with the official royal drink in hand, a bud light, the ‘sunami’ talk goes on for awhile, I am still a little off centered that I came across this unexpected fiefdom, I admit I am tempted to join in the ridiculous conversation, but I hold my tongue, until the next story is spun, “did you see those big shrimp the other day, there was like a pile of ‘um over there” (points southward to a certain spot on the shoreline), “yeah, the birds were going crazy, did you grab any of those things?”, “those are like gold man, you could have made a bundle!”, “how many were there, like 50, 2000 or what?”, “what are those things called anyways? them big shrimp, they got a name, like little lobsters or sumtin”, I could not refrain as the big shrimp little lobster debate raged for what seemed like ages, I turned, “Prawns…” I blurted out, trying to time my quip as to not disturb the natural order of this circle of friends, they rejoiced with the knowledge I laid down, “Prawns! Yeah, that’s the name, they were prawns Johnny” (or maybe it was Joey… or both, or something similar), now their attention was on me, I could see the look in their eyes ‘look at the smart guy, let’s see what else he knows’, and with that came the question “do you know how much those things go for a pound? did I really give up gold?”, “I honestly don’t know, I don’t see them too often in the stores” I answered, and in dropped a drop of true disappointment, as apparently my knowledge was not so vast to satisfy the veracity of this small crowd after I built up expectations with my prawn gambit, sensing this setting of my sun, I blurted out “hey, but forget about it, it won’t matter after that Tsunami washes us away anyway”, this garnered a wry smile and a couple of genuine laughs, they were satisfied, and I must say I was quite satisfied with myself for jumping out of the jackass fire, so without further adieu I bid farewell, and departed from their lands, might I see them some other day on some other enchanted sands…

notes:. the real story, well, this is really it, I explored a lot of beaches on this trip (the photo is legit mine), I was really really not expecting anyone to be there, this seemed literally in the middle of nowhere, sure, there are houses, but most are summer retreats, who was I to walk onto a beach with these three who come to escape their wives and lives for a short time, I entered near this beach many more times that day… not a soul in sight, so maybe this was something magical or mystical, who am I to know ?

Music? some ambient goodness to get you through… c’mon, trust me already… dig it…

Cape May NJ Sunset Beach…

November 21, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

yeah, well, sometimes you go for the low hanging fruit, sunset beach is just… one of those things you do in Cape May, regardless of season, it works, it is a destination for a reason, I huddled in place for just the right moment, and damn is it sweet, so if you think you know New Jersey, you don’t, is there a reason we have a bad reputation ? sure… but the real Jersey shore is more than people know… that wreck out there? that is the SS Atlantus… ’nuff said.

a thought about construction…

October 7, 2019October 9, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

white electric train — Photo by David Dibert on Pexels.com

“am-track“
a train comes screaming through
the local shop
the tracks rumble
inside my head space
how did I not notice the construction
must have transpired
through the night
when did I become
just part of the line
a place to get on
no longer a destination

notes… this was started/inspired by my daily drive on route 27 in Edison, I saw some construction on the railway line into NYC which is quite popular here, Edison has boomed due to the fact that so many roads and hubs pass through my town… I say my town because I grew up here, I have seen it change and grow immensely, not a bad thing, just a different thing, metropark was once the biggest train station in the state, I bet it still is volume wise, but anyway this poem was in my brain and full of metaphors about change and progress…. with the train station in mind.. or mind…. (and AMTrack is the NJ area service), this is staccato rhyme/rhythm, count the beats…

capture a moment, textures…

October 4, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Just something that caught my eye… all the textures mixed together, nature does the work, I just stumbled upon it… metaphors galore if you will, or shall…

a poem as a vessel…

September 29, 2019 by David Koblentz ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

close up of candle over black background — Photo by George Becker on Pexels.com

“faint“
a long forgotten candle burns
flickers… slowly, in silence
in the dark
crater crowns a mound of melted wax
shapes the form, sunken
barely moving shadows trance
in the corner
of a long forgotten chamber

notes… I call this “vessel poetry”, meaning I am intending to be vague so the reader fills in their own details, sure, this could be taken at pure literal (visual) meaning, that’s cool, I did have a literal specific picture in mind, kind of a forgotten grey wood cabin with no windows that light still comes through all the old lines in the wood, in the corner some old candle ready to die on a silver plate with one of those ring handles almost like a mug, next to a dead fireplace with dead embers… but I also thought about more (and specific things) when I wrote it… what did you think about ?

Shades of My Garden

a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart

Tag: New Jersey