thoughts, from the porch…

thoughts, from the porch…

architecture building daylight garden
Photo by Gary Spears on Pexels.com

(music to read by)

I listen for the distant cars, hoping they will turn down my street so I might know who they are, I stare out at the same view now as always, some might think it unremarkable, or what different things might I see in this common canvas, that I have not seen before, many times before, but I suppose that is the trick of the thing, the longer you look the more you are apt to reveal the nuances and subtleties you would not get on first glance or random chance.
I was out earlier than usual today-tonight, the robins are singing, not in unison, but individually like a one-up-man-ship contest (but in a cordial manner), much unlike the bickering they engage in when it comes to nightly quarters, the shadows of the leafs on my japanese maple are like dark diamonds dancing on my walkway, all because of the breeze, a little show for me or anyone who cared to pull up a chair to the attraction and pay a modicum of attention, pause the real world and just breathe for a second or twelve, so I sit, barefoot, as weather permits, a bumble bee does a fly by across my bridge like tom cruise, and I must admit I quite flinch and then grin at the ridiculousness of the situation, his only weapon is a suicide sting and I am this big bulky thing between him and pollen, his death blow would be mere inconvenience to me, certainly not a pleasant experience but certainly not worth the jumping apprehension I felt on first impression, it is good to catch yourself now and again, and examine your immediate reactions, the why behind that particular reflex…
a little ant is making a run at my big toe, I feel revulsion, surely it is a strange sensation as it works it’s way above my nail, but against initial instinct I do nothing, I have better things to worry about (I tell myself), of course I am not totally sold on being out of the moment, I can’t seem to forget the little traveler now on toe number two, I look down and upon my feet and wonder… how many miles do I have on these things? and looking further wonder how anyone could have a foot fetish, to each their own I guess, the sun is fading, the world is turning into silhouettes in the rising dark, a lone bird on a lone wire, leaves, trees, all 2D cut outs now, a slight breeze flows across and brings peaceful calm, as the world slows, as the world slips… into sleep (for those not nocturnal)

(this is part of my porch project, so be it, and thanks for the read, I do appreciate it)

I call these “thought poems”…

I call these “thought poems”…

person wearing blue jeans sitting on bench
Photo by Bas Masseus on Pexels.com

5.14.2019
the terrors of the night
they come for me
night after night
they come for me
but yet, I survive
so do they even exist
anywhere but my mind

5.15.2019
I shadowbox at night
admittedly
not quite the fair fight
but my desire to win
has become-
addiction


notes… I call these thought poems because, well, I felt like it, damn, that does not seem like a valid reason, hold on… (pacing), I think these are like haiku in intent, meaning to deliver a feeling or a thesis where not all my poetry endeavors to do (man that sounds so much better), sometimes I am just a distiller trying to distill, because that is what distillers do silly. I must be daffy, it is one of those weeks, work is bonkers nuts and my home laptop SSD drive is dying/dead, I had to take the thing apart tonight to recede the drive, my crazy insane dork laptop crippled by a SSD… hah… ah, life is ironic.

music notes
Photo by Ylanite Koppens on Pexels.com

music to contemplate by (as I am known to do…)

>>> Minus the Bear – Pachuca Sunrise (live in studio)

this will always be my beach/ocean song, I was in the keys when it came out just watching the aqua blue waves roll in with thunderstorm clouds spotted and rattling in the distance, I can not describe how surreal it was, sitting there, my feet dangling off the dock into the warm waters of the gulf stream, translucent glistening surf in moonlight, lapping waves, cracking thunder, palm shadows… and this tune…

no… sleep… till… (well, home from Brooklyn)…

no… sleep… till… (well, home from Brooklyn)…

people standing on brown bridge
Photo by Arthur Brognoli on Pexels.com

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

close up colors detail fabric
Photo by Engin Akyurt on Pexels.com

“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)…

Beastie Boys – No Sleep Till Brooklyn

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)

tonight’s view from the porch…

tonight’s view from the porch…

sunglasses sunset summer sand
Photo by Nitin Dhumal on Pexels.com

Walking barefoot in the sun, I feel once again young, as if I am looking down at my feet and seeing a child’s body, my body, walking in the sun, a t-shirt and shorts, destinations and appointments give way to innocent desires and pursuits, this feels like the summer I remember in my bones, the warm laziness that calms all membranes, the quelling of all senses, for a moment I utterly bask.

I park my car under a tree, so, things happen in the natural order of things, so I figure I might hose it off as I just had it proper washed on friday, so in the midst of aiming to knock off the bird presents for a moment the hose jerked up, and the breeze picked up, mist sprays into the air almost like slow motion each drop frozen shimmering in the sun, misting me up the legs up my arms and my face, there is immediate revulsion but then a hugely wide smile, there – I am taken into an immediate transfer back in time, I’m a child, with other children, running through a lawn sprinkler on a day just like this, so vivid I can hear and taste the moment, how the water felt on my skin, the belief that we could jump through unwashed or untouched, ‘oh that next jump’, the pure hope of children, such a simple thing, more memorable than some fancy vacation to a posh destination, there is more in slices of life like that than can ever be paid for, the simplicity of a hose attached to a fan sprinkler and the mad dash to jump over them (to be nimbler than jack), such distilled existence, purity of joy and fun with nothing attached to it, no expectations, just the next moment, maybe that is the problem with adulthood, all these outward layers we collect bear us down, in that it is like everything else, you pick up things as you travel, you fill your house, and unless occasion or circumstance demands you to down-size… will you?

I am not saying strip down your clothing until you are a child again, that would be a simplistic thing and I would be a fool doctor to prescribe such a prescription, but maybe take a look around and see what actually benefits and supports your life – and what does not, be that a trinket or a person or a person of trinkets, try to mine down to the things, that are the purest version of your thoughts, you will know them when the shovel hits them, for now I want to go walk in the sun some more, letting my toes explore the lawn, step on an itchy ball or three, let my skin absorb the sun to the point of just sweat, and maybe.. maybe find a sprinkler to jump through (and hopefully not break a leg)

(I escape tonight, with a smile and filled with satisfaction)

this is part of my porch series… early afternoon edition in this case…


musichumanmeshdance “thesecretnumbertwelve”

give it a chance, it is hypnotic…

a quote about heroes…

a quote about heroes…

city sky france flag
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“if all the heroes of the world should rise again…
there still would not be enough of them”

 

 

who wrote it ?  me. again this was not on purpose for memorial day but perhaps the muse thought it so…

music? one of my fave underrated bands comes to mind…

>>>>> Warrior Soul – Hero

they had a string of three albums that was mind blowing, they had big label support but for whatever reason they never broke big, they had a unique sound, unique front man, I’ll never understand why but those that loved them truly did, as usual comments and likes are appreciated, this is all my original content, this is me, some guy in new jersey, the garden state, who does… appreciate any and all eye balls, I am convinced there are people out there wired like me, I am certainly not mainstream, I gave that up a long time ago…

thoughts from the porch…

thoughts from the porch…

clouds dark dark clouds darkness
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

the clouds seem to want to have a conversation tonight, I am not sure what about, they seem quite still, shadows painted flat against the blue, not a blue recognizable as a hue you would associate with day, a blue looking over a ledge right before it fades into black, but still perceptibly blue even at almost nine at night, a commercial flight blinking as it moves across the main face, pulsing in and out, passing in and out,  just as a car passes by, symmetry in random things, a sign? or just reading the page nature has laid out in front of me…

“I’ll surely miss this one day”

so, I must, with my best intent soak it all in, but then, for a moment I notice the yellow jacket lady has a hitch in her walking steps, and that little detail manages to spirit my attention away, until the subtle shfff shfff scrape shfff shfff scrape fades, no matter how much we stop and look at the world in frame, the world is content to whirl around us never stopping, an unpredictable machine with infinite parts, we announce to the universe that we know the ticks, the gears, the hands, but we are still landlocked on this one planetary earth, as sophisticated as we are… string theory, dark matter, chaos theory, astrophysics, a holographic universe, the multiverse, buckyball (I just wanted to throw that in there because of the name), the god particle (higss boson), all fascinating areas to stretch our limited knowledge wider (and I revel in immersing in all these things as possibility is imagination, dreams into reality essentially), but there is also equal satisfaction in staring at the variance of leaves on a simple single tree, as I am doing now, there is enchantment in looking at what we might ignore in the very daily day but it is it’s own complex network of molecules and matter in a nearly infinite scale, I can get lost in the peaks and valleys in just a tree I planted some years ago with these hands, fascination, watching the subtle twitches from insects or a breeze, mesmerizing, I find myself lost in the moment for a moment or some, another plane breaks through, a train calls out in the distance, as the clouds are fading back into the darkening sky, I forgot by now, what was I going to ask them, what were they going to say ?


writing notes idea class
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notes… (this is part of my porch project)..  I was going to post something else tonight but then I sat outside and as I always say “this wrote itself”, because that is the way the muse works through me, I don’t know if this piece conveys the feeling of peace I felt, if not, well, it was…peaceful,  I highly recommend finding a quiet space from the rat race of daily life daily if you can, stripped away of these electronic things (which I equally love to be fair), but just sit there and take it all in, look for details you might have missed…


music

silhouette of person holding glass mason jar
Photo by Rakicevic Nenad on Pexels.com

Epicuros – Interstellar

Excellent (amazing) ambient space music… maybe I should post these links before my posts as music to read the post by?  I am writing this listening to this… I imagine traveling as light through space…

the “c.k.” conundrum and the curious intention of intent…

the “c.k.” conundrum and the curious intention of intent…

aromatherapy bamboo basket candlelight
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

ck, no, not su, or fu, ‘c.k’. meaning Courtesy and Kindness… I am not going to go on with some long harangue (excellent word btw) about how there is less of these attributes populating the world today, because:

a) how would I know
b) what’s the point anyway?

So (genesis of this), I was driving down the Parkway Sunday to spend the day in a lovely park (Big Brook) and the Parkway is already showing signs of “shore traffic“, that is the typical backup of the South direction in the morning, North in the evening, something you get quite used to being a New Jersey resident, there is an absolute mad dash down the roadway on every weekend starting, well, yesterday I suppose (it is not totally scientific, forgive my dalliance), so I had to deal with this super heavy merge, I try to be judicious with my driving (I am a big believer in alternate merging, I seriously don’t understand those who actively block you, I mean, you are gaining a car length buddy or two at best – wow for you, you won the internet…), so a gentleman (well, I’m not 100% sure really) let me in and I meant to do the courtesy wave, instead, for some reason unbeknownst to me even though I was the one producing the physical gesture, I kind of did a half point up instead of the approved wave form, and I did not see a reply in my rear view, so I hoped that my message was not ill-received, it made me think of a few things, one being the state of courtesy and kindness and my role in that, which is what I started rambling about here…

is there a point to actually doing these sort of things?
I won’t make a difference even if I do these things.

Logically it is hard to argue against the above summation. However, I postulate to you (the one reading this) that it is better to strive for better even though we will certainly fall short (especially if you jump off a curb, joke). but more aptly…

“In the face of imminent death I would rather go with a smile than a scowl.”

Maybe this is simplistic, obvious, childlike, stupid, corny (insert your adjective of choice here)… Sure, I get it, but what is the alternative? And is that better off for all those involved (ahem, humanity) in the long run? This brings me to the intention of intent. Deep down we know what we are engaged in when we do it, but does someone else ever do (or do we assume)? Instincts are great but perhaps a pause in mind before an action, or an extra mental step to look down the line would better serve the end. Good intentions do not always have the expected result so use them with care, and like any other tool hone your skill as you grow. Why do people not think practice matters when it comes to courtesy and kindness.  I posit that it is like any other thing we choose to do.  The first time you stumble or perhaps screw the pooch entirely…. but given time you screw up less, that is the hope at best. Good intentions blended with proper preperation.

I don’t say all this to be preachy or pretend for even a barren nano-second that I embrace these ideals every minute of every day, in fact the fact that I have to expound these thoughts this way may mean they are not my natural inclination, perhaps true, however, I am choosing to look at that impossibly impassable mountain before me and climb anyway, surely, many days I wake and will not have the energy or verve to tackle the task…

but keep my eyes forward focused on the path

And somewhere along this blog road, perhaps, I can drag a few souls in a positive direction, at least, I think and that is my wish, with all of this.

might I keep these words alive
as with a beacon’s light
that faith may guide my mind
and god will temper my hand

(…and with that, good night my friends, exit stage dave)

people silhouette during sunset
Photo by Min An on Pexels.com

 

Music to read by… Fine Art of Friendship (King’s X)

a quotient of happiness…

a quotient of happiness…

sunset beach people sunrise
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I was pondering what my limits are when it comes to happiness, is there a well, a reservoir, a certain limit to my good nature and how exactly does that work? I thought about how some days my fuse is quite short but others not so much, do we possess…

a quotient of happiness ?

I quite imagine it is like a little jar, with some iridescent red fluid, stocked with a various amount any given day (maybe I grew up playing too many RPGs, fair point), regardless, this is what I visualize in my mind, what a grand thing it would be to know how much happiness I had in stock for the day before I stumbled out on the world, I might mete it out better or more copiously (depending – supply/demand happiness economics 101), this visceral representation in the mind might lend to a more balanced me, after all, especially on Mondays, I certainly could use an IV of good tidings to start the week, but how might I fill this heart container once drained? what if I set out to dream of happiness as I lay down at night? and how might I accomplish such a thing? counting smiling sheep perhaps? having Ed McMahon confirm that I may have already won 10 million dollars? a tropical island? a date with Drew Barrymore? maybe none of those things, maybe the key is just thinking about the subject at all, power through consideration, a mental reminder to recharge the resource for the good of all, I think I will give it a whirl, what’s the harm, although a smile to the next passing car does not seem to return the same… I’ll smile anyway.

apparently I am not the only one to ponder this particular conundrum, as a simple web search brought up the following…

https://www.trackinghappiness.com/happiness-quotient/

if I only knew what I was getting into! seven steps… and here I thought I was all clever mcDavey with my little flask analogy like Legend of Zelda… hmmph. oh well, whatever the case may be, be happy.

view from the porch…

view from the porch…

blooming blossom blur bright
Photo by Karol D on Pexels.com

So here I sit, halfway through May, 70! seventy seems like such a magical number, a threshold, perhaps mental or winter weary, just 24 mere hours ago I thought about penning the misery of a cold “unforgiving” rain, one that seemed keen to rob me of my day off, I can almost taste them now, in spring, days off, the promise of all the things I love to do outdoors crushed by the cruel scheduling of Mother Nature, but at least, for this moment, I can bask in this, especially after the tides of rain of late, my lawn certainly looks greener than I recall, my Japanese maple is invading the walking path to my door, taunting me to dust off my trimmer, my various bamboo plots are literally jumping out of the ground (not always where planned), the smell of a fresh cut lawn hits me, my neighbor has one of those do-it-all riding mowers and pretty much does my whole yard without a word, who am I to contest? our interactions at best are usually just the nod as I drive past in the morning to work, he’s a good guy, a family man, two kids, he and his wife have the same first name, some sort of cultural thing, “han”, I refer to them as Han Duo, and they get the joke, he invites me to his pool sometimes, I usually decline, at least, I have in the past, I see two asian indian girls walking up the street, I have seen them before, I always wonder about people’s stories, one of them is usually wearing some Rutgers schwag, I don’t know much more than that, or what house they are from, I used to know everyone up and down, but things are different now, or so I am told or so I experience, the day moon stands prominent just above the clouds, shaded in the same color of blue somehow, I’m sure there is some scientific explanation, but I’ll just take awe and contemplation as sustenance for now,
maybe this is a perfect segment of time
no perceptible wind, seventy degrees, the sun is nearly down and certainly no longer in my sights, insects are not yet quite in season (although there are a few outliers but certainly not sipping mosquitoes), I try and listen to the stillness of it all and wish to internalize the sum, capture it, stow it away for future use, rare are the days that allergies do not cripple my olfactory line, this is one of those times, where I can feel the expression of all my senses full, I do not bemoan my condition, it is a mere penance compared to many before and gone, and even, perhaps, a too familiar friend all these years, my iris are in full bloom which most likely is a sure sign my daffodils are quite gone, I do not have the will to go look at the scene of the natural crime, why kill the mood? even the uneven sound of clamoring garbage bins being dragged out to the curb does not top the bird call competition, common birds but still a remarkable collection, and there is quite the mic battle, but, they seem almost like children trying to get the last word in, before the night,
in between light
perhaps that is a better way to think of the dark.

music to read by

The Claypool Lennon Delirium – Amethyst Realm

Groovy, hypnotic bass line, kind of like Doors meets the Beatles.

(this is part of my porch series… an ongoing exploration of the same thing at different times but with the same mind, this one, all thoughts, comments, questions and likes are all appreciated, thanks.)