This Wednesday was one of those ultra blue sky days that almost makes you forget about the cold (almost), hard to erase the visual impact of the season with all the trees with no leaves (well, besides those damn taunting pines and evergreens), stuck in the mud of the mind numbing vortex of traffic known as the NJ Turnpike, watching those more impatient than I dart in and out of the lanes like mad little minnows in the shallows looking for a perfect spot in a lake of no destination, only to advance a few mere feet… (and I admit to a ‘little’ pleasure as I pass them staying in my lane and my ‘subtle’ dismay (grrrrr) when they pass me driving like kamikazes), but anyway I have learned to (ok, mostly) calm my mind among this grind to think of higher things, observe nature even when corralled by this asphalt and steel shackle laid out before me, and so I wrote this in observation (in of course my horrendous handwriting which I had to decipher tonight for this post…)
a formation of crows an arrow, greater than, forward framed, in a cobalt sky, winter underneath human congestion coagulates jealousy, flies away, east
I made a pact with myself, when I started this blog, that my goal was honesty and personal growth, part of that movement in the nation me is to actively notice things that I see everyday and check them out (instead of passively passing them by), essentially we should see beauty every chance we get, and I also think history is beautiful, there are ugly moments, sure, but history is a vehicle in which we can gain experience without having to live through something ourselves… and learn. Even in a country as new as this (in the scheme of thing’s america is very new) we have plenty of history, especially here in new jersey. So saturday I decided to check out this place I have driven by hundreds of times…
I have mixed feelings about the place, I like that it is a little enclave in the middle of major roads (Route 4, 208, rt 80 is not too far), there is a nice path from the lot through the park (it splits, I only went left this time), it is interesting that the park literally is in people’s backyards when you are walking, some owners have gates that open to the park, others, well, their fences seem less comfortable if you get my drift, unfortunately the nakedness of the winter reveals the debris and litter of humanity, is it overwhelming ? no, but certainly noticeable, I picked up a few pieces as I always do, but this place is in serious need of a dedicated patrol to pick up the flotsam, a little effort goes a long way, I guess this is the paramus river, I should google it but I don’t feel like it, the roar of the tiny rapids does pose some nice sound and almost (almost) drowns out the car traffic buzzing about and over, I shall check this out further in the future… it did not inspire a thought on the spot, but upon reflection tonight I wrote this (first draft just for this post):
upon red mill the common ground now a park with visions before the founding now nestled between highways and routes older than the country still may outlast the bustle ’bout and shared the land with history books for washington surely crossed this little nook and burr in yuletide of times sure partook certainly before his career paced north to new york and even lafayette on his farewell tour did endure to pass these grounds and now casual walkers, bikers and pavement encircle the visitors of note leave their bags and baubles but I might imagine the red mill will grist for it’s own will and endure on beyond more generations
I posted a couple of quick vids on my youtube account as well to give you a feel.so, that promise I made to myself… maybe I honored it here, but I am still struggling to be ‘it’ all the time, there are plenty of times I don’t stop and admire… or do the right thing, I’m working on it, so should you, we are barely here in the scheme of things, I know it so easy to say that, I know, I am just a guy and I do not live up to my own standards, but I am trying, I want everyone to give effort, and make this world better, step by step.
there is a calming in the falling snow, not a blizzard, just what you would order online, on cue, if you could, small flakes that barely leave a mark, just gracing the branches with a hint of white glisten, a calming, as if weaving a slow blanket across the land, all these pieces somehow in silent cooperation, no wind has come to ruin this show, no biting cold to chase these eyes inside to burrow in a blanket, so I may just stand here under a street light, watching the crystals cascade, like slow motion frozen captures of rain, holding out a hand to catch a glimpse, how this snow brings back rushes of memory, sledding, snowballs, snowmen, and cocoa, the worldly melts away as I observe this little truth, a smile emerges, mostly inside, with warmth, sometimes there is perfection in things, this is one of those nights, here under the street light, just being a figure in this slice, all the while around the floating down, there is calming in – this falling snow, I close my eyes and try to commit this to dream so I may recall this again.
a gentle snow falls the calming snow does slow pause this frozen moment
notes… I consider this part of my porch series, as I was engaged in the mundane, taking out the garbage but I was thrust into a snow globe, a nice one without so much shaking, I was consumed by how calm and beautiful tonight was, just a simple thing, maybe we forget, I am trying to stop and admire the world I am alive in.
A two-fer this morning, plus a poem, yours for only $19.95 in 192 installments! new and improved! just set it … and forget it! So sit back on your my pillow and if you spill something don’t worry about it, just sham wow it ! if you’re hungry just chop some nuts and if you want a relaxing boat ride I have just the solution… now, without further nonsense my entries to my actual collection…
reason for being 12.29.2018 in the AM walking out to my car for work
I noticed the flap of red overlap of a local newspaper plastic sleeve in my driveway bend up and over this morning in the breeze, if I was not there to witness who might be, so was this event just for me? a universe wink? something to ponder? or nothing at all (aside from a racing mind)? the immensity of what had to transpire in the universe (to this point) to just have this simple, seemingly meaningless moment of my notice is beyond calculation, barely in the grasp of comprehension and surely more complex than humanity may ever know, but there it was, a moment just for me to see in a world of all happening and motion, of lives starting, ending and being, of the earth spinning, the sun breathing radiation upon our goldilox home, the sheer perfection of the amalgamation of circumstance, in a blink and I move on, to the mundane spectacular that is this daily life. (but listen closely, for a moment, just a fraction I bet, time stopped and froze, for that pose my eye composed in just that very precious second in between all seconds, I did not chose this, it chose me, and in that exists the birth of miracles, if you stop to notice).
Photo by mali maeder on Pexels.com
winter flowers (driving to work)
not that today should be (or is) any different than the next (or previous), but decidedly I feel a different vibe going on, driving to work this morning the sky feels more alive, the winter sun’s emissaries bursting in lines out through the unmanned outposts of barren branches, casting long shadows across the road (right to left) showcasing cars upon the median wall in a procession of shadows like the projection of a carousel at night, the light adding a shimmer to the leftovers on the asphalt from yesterday’s never ending deluge, somehow things seem better, warmer, surely not in truth by empirical data (my usual cozy), but in feel, who am I to argue, but rather observe and revel, something about the winter sunlight beams as the earth’s pores broadcast open wide and soak them all in, the clouds all in place in one layer, sitting there aligned as a blueprint laid on top of the blue by a steady hand, many times I ponder that which is beyond this atmosphere, out there, but today… I am perfectly grounded within that laid out in front and behind, this morning drive, I can’t quite put my finger on it, but maybe that has been my problem sometimes, sometimes it is better to sit back and take it all in, smell the roses, even in winter when flowers are rarer but not unknown.
for winter flowers are rarer to see blooms on stark precious domain a lifeboat rises in the barren sea when all hope has left for none winter blooms in the faded sun
Never my favorite song (but other KX fans love it to death) but this video shows the devotion of the fans and what it is like to be at a show… the band does not even have to sing (have you been a part of anything like this? I have over the years, mostly Over My Head), by the way Dug is almost 70 (the lead singer), seriously, they have been killing it out there as one of the most original bands since the 1980s, here is the original version just for comparison. Ty Tabor is the reason I picked up a guitar (before Eric Johnson blew my mind, and SRV). Jerry ? A NJ guy so what can I say, I’m partial…
and as always, likes, follows and thoughts (comments) are always appreciated.
notes… I finished up work about 3am last night (after a 1:30am jaunt monday… virus protection on your PCs people argghhghgh!!!), I was down in the boogie down bronx (actually a historical site turned into a supermarket), not exactly the nicest area but I have to say I enjoy traveling all over the tri-state area into every conceivable economic situation from Newark, the Bronx, Franklin Lakes, Millville, Smithtown, Copiague, Danbury, Hastings-On-Hudson, Cold Springs and so many more. It is a good way to stick the thermometer of life in and take a reading to see what you don’t have on the high end and how much you do compared to those who live with much less. I value that perspective, I try to ground myself in it (not always successful). sheesh I can ramble, point being I have been busy and tired (uninspired) but this hit me word for word as I got in my car this morning. I opened the car door, heard this one little bird, I scanned for it, I could not triangulate the little bugger, even with no cover from leaves, bare trees and this singular sound bouncing about, sure in my head I know there are birds that stick it out, but still, if I had wings, would I stay in a place, like this ?
music? … I must admit a guilty pleasure here, although they are technically sound I swear! Underrated band that met their end too soon (and of course there is a NJ connection, hey, I am a homer)…
Good evening (or other local time appropriate greeting for you), I bring you a true story, a tale, a hero’s fable (well… ok maybe not that nearly that fantastical), this ’tis the how and why I broke a bone, the only bone I’ve ever known to break in all these years sloshing about the deck of my titanic life (so far dodging the icebergs somehow, maybe global warming is a friend in port?), so, the first question you may ask (or I may imagine you may ask) or maybe the first question I think you should ask, “hey man, what in the world is a Hippity Hop ?” for those in the know this giant dog chew toy was a wonder of wonder in the youths of those children of the 80’s (of which I am an inducted member, maybe even an elder of same – at this point), but anyway, a hippity hop was a mode of transportation before the segway came about (or that information highway thing I have heard such things about), and like all things such modes of transport evolve, I quite imagine that perhaps they are outlawed now, especially given the story of horror I am to import (at great personal peril to my 10 story pride), but with a quick click through my local yellow pages, ahem, I mean search engine they most certainly do still exist (they did fancy them up a bit from the simple red/blue option I had), so basically you plant your butt on this oversized dodge-ball of a thing, grab the ring and then transmute yourself into some sort of kangaroo hybrid (sans pouch, and tail, at least in my case, that is), so yes, I did not have fruit ninja, or an ipod/pad/phone, all we had was … “i”… (and somehow we managed through the boredom, I suppose it is all relative as if I was born in the 1800s I might have been churning butter for fun…), so anyway, where the hell am I? where the hell was I? so… these lovely bouncing things… sure they were fun, but like their far distant cousin removed three times the lawn dart… there is danger lurking in the ramparts, unseen evil forces that can guide these seemingly harmless rubber rapscallions turning them into destructive ICBMs (individual contact bone missiles), so, maybe you see where I going, I am trying to drive and get my damn map app to work… so bear with me, the setup: I was a young lad once, only once, and my parents imprinted on me (ahem, demanded) that I need to be gainfully employed if I wanted to buy things, with, you know, that money stuff (the nerve of those abusers!), so at a very young age I got what jobs I could, for the scope of this story I will spare you the litany of things I did for money (geez, that sounds really dirty, but thankfully nothing of ill repute ever came upon my petute), so I took a job as a camp counselor at the local YMCA (actually a JCC that became a YMCA, but what’s the difference?), it was a simple lot really, just watch some 7 year olds for a few hours during the summer and make sure they didn’t get hurt or do anything incredibly stupid (because a 14 year old is certainly qualified, obviously), so all was good, the little demons, ahem, I mean angels were so well behaved that Alcatraz would probably not take them, nothing crazy but I lost count of the ripped shirts from the ole “pile on david” game that they so loved, that much I could handle, but then… always insidiously lurking in the shadows, so friendly looking, almost a bouncing emoji (before there were any)… those damn Hippity Hops, plotting, waiting for the moment, the overthrow, the rebellion, to unleash their unholy hell of bouncing rubber asunder upon my innocent frame… I must pause for a moment to gather my thoughts to clearly recount the trauma… one of our (and by our I mean my little brood of monsters) daily activities was hopping about the gym on (you guessed it) Hippity Hops, ok, no harm no foul, been there done that, and then, came the moment when the evil plan was hatched from their nascent idea egg, I was not paying much attention when it happened, I mean who would expect it? through a sheer act of possession one of my minion hopped off her hippity hop and grabbed the ring like some naturally gifted olympic hammer thrower, spinning round like a tempest, no, like a full on F-5 tornado, unleashing a rubber projectile in my direction without notice, in slow motion I watched as it bounded toward me, I thought nothing of it, not knowing the sheer force of evil behind the gentle looking rubber, I recall it bounced once with that signature true sound like when you perfectly kick a kickball in a game, that “thunk” (and the satisfying feel of your foot sinking into the thing as it recoils and explodes outward to the outfield), so I heard that sound briefly, this moment was the calm before the storm, as it were, with pure lion instinct I reached out to grab the until now innocuous bouncy thing of joy, and then… it happened, in that brief moment, the hop bounced in such a way, as if guided by the lord of darkness himself, up to my outstretched hand, and hit, as if in perfect measure and intent, my middle finger, the transfer of energy traveled down, into my palm and there found a home, at the time it did not seem like much, maybe a jammed finger ? which I had endured a thousand times in basketball, but ah hah, the hidden damage, I returned home in discomfort, but not knowing the damage done. fast forward 2 hours, my hand is a balloon, or more really a surgical glove looking appendage that someone pumped air into (too much air), at this point I had to enlist the parents (hey, I was 14, alright?), off to the local hospital type place (well, actual hospital), X-rays and the usual, my hand was broken, my heart was sunken, I was taken out by a hippity hop, a rubbery drive by by a 7 year old. my pride ? broken as well, my answer to those who asked about my cast? “you should’ve seen the other guy”
Moral of the story… they say the devil is in the details, I disagree, the devil is in the pigtails…
I appreciate all shares, follows, feedback and pies… well actually, I hate pies, my taste profile is bitter, sour and spicy flavors, so I appreciate pies of scorpion peppers and broccoli rabe.. um, ok, that’s gross most likely, I appreciate your eyes, on my words, that much is true, so… thank you.
winter is certainly more than a visitor now, the last heroes of the fall have succumb (even the stubborn ones), so many familiar things, I’m noticing, more these days, paying attention to the details (always the details), wading through piles of leaves, kicking up my feet, much like traipsing through the surf as I churn, that distinct sound – of the dry death in dry leaves, the sweet breath of decay suspended in the cold air, such a unique scent, like the blooming of flowers in spring, this is the signature of the fall, held so still around my ghostly breath, the flashes of red and yellow now turning into brown, and then near nothingness, dormant stars to hide in the earth, burying luminescence, life is retreating into a cocoon, we, the overseers, as it were, pursue – the vast importance of our daily lives, but at least the coming of the cranberry holiday can give us pause, to say thanks, and pause to look on the world’s comings and goings as a lesson, to hold on to the remains of a dying year, to remain to hold those we hold dear, and to remember above all, love is life – and we are alive, give thanks.
I have a thing for the Kiwi nation, I find it fascinating from a biological perspective as well as culturally (specifically the Maori people). I have a collection of poems dedicated to this subject (with links and explanations as there are specific aspects of Maori culture/mythology I am directly talking about here)… here is one I wrote more semi-recently however (man time flies)…
“the spirit shore” 6.1.18
a journey starts one completes
diving off from upon the peak
to the homeland
in the sea
glancing back to those alive
“Thrive! Thrive! Thrive!
I will see you again
my brothers –
in due time”
music ? (as if I would forget to proselytize with my musical vibes)
not many people have the balls to attempt this… and too be honest Eric is technically a better player than Jimi (much cleaner note for note) but Jimi was instinct, he was fire (and pure inspire), so to say one is better or not is a bit unfair to both, two different things, I can admire both for different reasons and different feelings.
notes… I was being very specific using the word ‘report’ as it pertains to signal cannons mostly used to announce a ship coming into port, so I am mixing some metaphors here. The rest (I hope) speaks for itself. I wrote this @ my desk today, which is weird for me as it is high pressure but these just popped in there (ghostbusters reference).
music… no correlation, I just was listening to this today so… 2 versions of the same folk song adaptation, some great singers as well…
Swiss and German are pretty close in a lingual speaking sense, very different people though (except in the small Austrian towns from my experience at least). Of course Eluviete had my fave singer (Anna Murphy) so I posted a live version there so you can see how friggin amazing she is in the real.
Shades of My Garden 