‘stand‘
if I can lie to the moon
I can lie to you
if I can whisper to the moon
I will send my envoys into that room
a gathering of your friends
there was never any covenant of truth
so let’s stop the pretense of pretend
is this convenience
a road stop
or
the end?
enamored
if my words were silk sheets
wrapped around your naked skin
sultry eyes, captivation
luring time as clock hands spin
step outside
my own dimension
desire two makes one
by my own extension
hairs on end
at attention
notes… a slightly different tact this week kind of like last week but not, remembering the absence of presence, waking up every day next to her, seems like someone else’s dream these days and certainly not reality or my own memory anymore…
a birthday candle
made upon one selfish wish
a moment with her
notes… and so the pining does muster on, I’d like to pretend I don’t think about things, and how I might make them different, and all the other fantasies in my mind, but I will always remain hopeful, as the random tide of the world brought us together once, maybe there is sequel in there somewhere (and not a rewrite with bad actors), I am a cork in the river in that way, letting the universe work things out, I am not sure if that is the right approach, when it comes to such things I am not sure about much… at all…
music…
underrated… much like me… my humor is subtle, you have to trust me on that front, these guys almost made it, like a lot of bands, they had the goods but just didn’t “hit” enough for the label to push them at the time, they are still around (the guys, not the band) in various forms… or so I am told…
there are these moments, tiny flakes of time space, hours of days, one of these, these times when I feel like I am living in past tense, moments that have happened before seem intensely ‘now’, or directly directing the now, overwhelmingly, a feeling floods me as if I have been running in place for years waiting for the past to change, or worse yet sitting in place as the world spins around me, past me, passing by, waiting for something, something that will never come, and the ability to rewrite – a wrong…
the day started out so nicely, with the starch definitely taken out of summer, a cool morning, barely 70 degrees, mail order blue sky, someone must have paid to have all the clouds removed for there are none, at least for now, the sun is warming instead of broiling, a barely noticeable ball playing hide and seek in between the full taller trees behind the house, everything is green, with a little tired at the edges brown, I take a moment to look around, take it all in as it were, mornings like these, makes you want to be rich beyond your wildest dreams so you could just stop, stay in place and experience every ounce, then, with your hands squeeze-twist the very confines of time to get every last drop out, but, like most of us, most of any who have ever walked this earth, I have to take what I can take, in this fleeting passing moment, with a shallow deep breath I take in what I can, trying to commit to memory this little slice of near perfection for later recall, knowing soon enough I will be back in the reality of the race, the pace, cars lining up like ants in an artery, all with our destinations and routines, all under the umbrella of such a perfect day, bills to pay, obligations to meet.
so I am driving, the traffic is a bit lighter today, you never know when a holiday approaches how said holiday will encroach on your day, so perhaps my mind is off in another place, not distracted by the constant foot race to my brakes and then go stop go stop base routine, I wonder about things, the circumstances of a life, if they would have changed, would I be right here now wondering the same? these are times I wish my memories were not so vivid or clear, or perhaps to be so vapid as to not care, maybe ignorance is bliss, but I can not know of this, I wish for amnesia, will I be happy… or just unaware? I try and tell myself, comfort myself, convince myself, that I would rather have full awareness, to have clarion clarity, but at once I might still want to be an ostrich, and bury my head in the sands of time, how my life might have been different if this or that, the mental exercise, the gymnastics of a foolish mind and lost heart, and her, would we have changed our opinion on having children, and where has all the time gone as that decision now seems past any comprehension or contemplation… from where I am situated I do not remember the sand escaping my palms, slipping from my grasp if I grasped at all, blown scattered by the winds to the four corners of no recompense, and my hands feel empty, youth is fullness, youth is an overgrown garden of possibility inculcated with weeds, and as the years go, some flowers die, others are planted, some bushes manicured, others upgraded to fancier exotics, and not so suddenly the once wild jungle of opportunity has been whittled down quite nicely, quite on purpose, with purpose, at least at the time, no longer allowed to grow wild, everything has order now, the paving stones, the path all neatly appointed, and I look back, am I satisfied with what I have? or who I am? but there is no magic elixir in the face of time, no amount of thought or determination can catch even a second in a bottle, or snare a minute in a net, my thoughts seem shackled by the past, tension on the chains, my own doing, but there is no instructions how to steer this ship, how to set the sails of life into the headwinds of success, for as I cross the trade-routes and circumnavigate, like the great explorers, I come to know, to sail around, this earthly globe, I arrive back here, in past tense, all the same, but years now spent.
Music to read by… (when will you just trust me and click the links?)
>>> Paradise Lost – Ordinary Days
(1) death is for us
forever
at last
this is the color of my endearment
the light of perpetual machinery
for within
let all that remains
let this purify
my thoughts
my enduring
my love
of you
for you
(2) I vacillate
in this occupied space
between
wanting to never
and begging forever
if I had not known
I would still be alone
if I had not been
I could not know
tip toe
on the edge
of this black hole
this close to light
one step slight
to all’s end
this is the line on which I lay
notes… I have endless poems about her, the one, maybe the only one, I tell myself many things, I indulge in many things, I have fantasies, and dreams, and yet time just keeps passing, but I feel no difference, at times there is reprieve but always the return to the baseline… of her. I feel broken with no way to heal, I don’t want pity, or even sympathy, this is all for me, to work out, I imagine some people are the same, or at least I rationalize…
(for more lost love letters visit my collection page)
music… double shot of harsh love tonight, hope you like punk infused energy rock, if not … well…
I was perusing the fish section of my local Wegman’s supermarket today, and they had Fluke, now Fluke is often referred to as “summer flounder” and is a very east coast thing, especially this time of year as they migrate close to shore abandoning their deep ocean homes, because like everything in jersey, it flocks to the shore in the summer, even the damn fish… I haven’t seen Fluke in a while, maybe I wasn’t quite looking, or maybe happening upon it today was just a fluke… they remind me of summer, day boating, or as we more common in these parts referred to them as “party boats”, you can do the math, but suffice it to say they were quite lax on allowing libations as stowaways, hell, you could not even spell “fishing charter” without ‘beer’, I must say the night boat trips were rather interesting, so yeah, I used to fish for Fluke as a kid, one of those very summer memories even though you can fish for them year round surely, I recall the party boats were with friends, but I remember the times with my dad more vividly, on my uncle’s boat, I don’t even recall how old I was, but the whole routine, getting on the boat not falling in, untying the ropes and such, the shiny white surfaces, chugging out slowly out of the marina, stopping at the gas station dock for fuel, food and bait-fish, eventually picking up a little speed out of the harbor, passing sandy hook, then skipping along the water until whatever destination was chosen was met, casting out our lines, catching mostly sea robins, and the occasional fluke, large enough to keep and then consume, that feeling when as the smallest person on board and you catch the catch of the day, the biggest fish, not often but sometimes, following the seagulls around as they spot schools, casting out to catch some blues among the frenzy, spending the whole day on the water, hours not mattering, starting at sunrise and finishing near sunset, all in a blink, I so romanticize it now, forgetting the work, getting up before dawn (ahem, not my specialty, ever), scrubbing everything down on the boat, the slime of the fish on your hands, the gunk on your shirt and shorts, that time my brother was unloading the catch and picked up my fish (the champ, the trophy of the day) and dropped it… back into the water, right by the dock, my heart swam away with the fish I lost, the rank old dead fish odor of the fillet station on the dock, the errant old scales all about like shiny little plates on a tangled fishing line wind chime, gutting the fish, evisceration of organs, the seagulls and shore birds in a veritable orgy of gore that they found so tasty as we threw the scraps and bits into the water next to the moored boat, and then becoming the bearer of a proud ziploc of perfect triangles of fish, to be had later as a reward or frozen – never seen from again… but my immediate recollection was all the positive things, and maybe just maybe that should be my focus when experiencing life, as it seems that is what we most remember anyway, there must be a reason for this, some biological thing I suppose, I doubt that it is just… a fluke…
“she knows
every trick trigger and measure
to get under my skin
and at my pleasure
awash in my thick vanity
adored by the mob fawning
flattery
a crop of golden laurels
blind surrender
the crisp apple bears
twice bitten”
notes… for she is my weakness and my strength, my triumph and my tragedy, my love and my loss, lost. I wrote this back in may but revised it this day, so…. here it is or was, or, now, or… something. (oh yeah, and I am making lost. love. letters like a thing now… just visit my collections page to see all the posts if you dig this particular vibe, then you can skip my other stuff if you so choose)
music (I wonder if anyone checks these out, ah, if it is any one of you that’s cool)…
>>>>> Lush – Sweetness and Light
and by the way… I review media (movies, TV) when I get the chance, I also review brews over @ BeerAdvocate (I am allergic to sulfites in wine so beer is my drink of choice, well, OK bourbon as well when I can sit back and kick some Basil’s or Elijah Craig sitting on a deck overlooking some water…)
back to my regularly scheduled programming… Thursdays are for the lachrymose, those moments when I reflect on her…
“a slow pour,
in a bar in paradise
islamorada, florida
sitting on a stool
of course, by myself
top shelf
surprised they have basil’s,
a slow pour
some would describe this
exquisite
a perfect sunset
light slides along the gulf
like all those postcards
I suppose I could just buy a bottle
and some pills
and end this right now
as there is something missing
in the midst of all this glory,
a slow pour –
the rattle of melting cubes
the sharp sting of bourbon
punctures my tongue
the view, massages like a familiar tune
the hum of gentle conversation I am not involved in,
a. slow. pour. …
the deck overlooks
overlaps the water
lapping the pylons
sips count the minutes
here
in locked distant beauty
in a bar, in paradise
on the water
I contemplate life –
without you”
notes… this is totally a mental picture for me, and my link to Islamorada above shows… even in the midst of what most would consider paradise…. I remain, on those warm nights, ocean breeze, wishing you were there next to me, I still have hope, down there, somewhere, for new love or the kindling of old (for her, I love you)…
and in the interest of being honest, I was disappointed that my last post got no love… maybe the way I tagged it ? not sure.. but either way I stand by it with pride….
family…
for some reason, I must admit to myself a certain underlying apprehension, as a family gathering is happening out on the horizon, nothing formal like a wedding mind you, just a get together, a party for an uncle eclipsing the 80 year mark (who looks great for his age), but anyway, I got to thinking about this underlying apprehension as to how I would be judged or looked at, is it my expectations, theirs? both? driving to work can provide mind maddening traffic nightmares but also a chanee to reflect, so I guess this is what that is, I suppose there will be idle talk about what David is or was supposed to be, and what or who I am now, speculation, derision, is family strangers… you just happen to know better ? just not better than your friends ? these are my findings, not all families get along (we are not fighting mind you,), I suppose we do alright these days, better than most, although the distance between all of us has grown and is quite palpable, an interesting phenomena in the days of digital communication, things are actually less personal, get togethers are more rare, real communication is even rarer, is it regret? a generational thing? I’m not sure, I suppose we all bear some responsibility, so easy to melt into our various devices as devices of convenience and distraction (the evolution of bread and circus?), in many ways I seem to know more about what my relatives think, on social media at least, but is that just a face… or reality? or a mixture? I try to be as honest as possible in all phases but in reality, this reality we all play roles, whether we admit that to ourselves or not, we have differing faces, not mendacity, not lies, just different sides for different suns, can we escape that paradigm? I suppose that is what I try… at least… so I think there will be those that judge me against their children or some other quite temporal measuring stick, what is success anyway, and is temporary “success” in this world worth anything anyway? Are having kids… success ? if those kids “fail”… does that lessen your ‘success’ based on so many factors you can not possibly control… or do you just roll with it, life that is, the more I think about it the more I tend to let go when I catch myself acting by the hand of outside forces, like these thoughts that have invaded my little space but I caught them sneaking in (they should have removed their shoes… amateurs…)
lest you be judged…
“let people judge you” because in the end what does it matter, you can never, or will never be able to control the thoughts or will of others, there is no super secret power or device to such end, your options are very obvious if you distill them down, forever chase the end of the rainbow to no end… or just accept things (and yourself) as they are, I am not saying throw out the baby with the bathwater and eschew personal growth and goals, but as far as other people’s thoughts? consider them, but let that not be your guiding principal in this life, it is easy to judge anything and everything, it is our absolute nature to compare things, but take into consideration that we all have limited experience in these comparisons regardless of how long we have been riding on this planet, we are very tied down to our own experiences which in the scope of things is quite limited (think about the variables, when you were born, your parents, your country, your state, your gender, your religion etc etc), so trust in that deficiency, sounds strange to trust in your lack of something, but that lack of experience is exactly the lens you are filtering the world through, admitting real limitation is the keystone to the bridge of accomplishment (I should author fortune cookie messages… or hallmark cards… I’m available for parties, no balloon animals (just can’t do that) and no ponies (I’m allergic) )…
eclipse…
maybe my problem is over stimulated blindness, looking at the sun can be overwhelming, at times an eclipse might be most useful, something between you and everything, blocking enough so you can see the periphery and the outline, not all the light at once so you can appreciate the whole that much more when it is revealed again, there is a lesson in there somewhere, the patience of it all, as the curtain is slowly drawn and then reversed until full dawn, so maybe I will think of an eclipse if I am ever overwhelmed, and remember not to take in the whole ball of sun at once (as I tend to do, becoming a localized Atlas with not the shoulders he had), realize my limitations and take in what I can instead of swallowing whole, surely though I will falter and draw to close, fall like Icarus into the sea, and hopefully not drown this time, or the next, like all things practice in this, and practice becomes habit and habit becomes your work clothing, and then you forget the change ever happened at all, because you are comparing things as you go…
so I suppose my fear (or discomfort) is un-grounded, I should not have apprehension for a family gathering, if I cause rumors or a stir, it matters about as much as a car spider scuttling across my window at night, or a leaf slowly swaying back and forth as it inevitably lands on the ground, have I cleared myself of the fear completely? some part of me still clings, but somehow, after examination, I feel some relief… and I suppose that is progress, besides the sky is very blue today, there is a cloud that looks like a mile fern leaf, the wind is gently turning the purple leaves of the cherry blossom outside this concrete box where I work, it all seems right… it all seems OK… at least for now, and that is all you can hope for sometimes…
music tonight…
finger-style electric, mellow but exciting, and if you play the technical level is mind blowing, they are playing the TLA in Philly in September, hell yell I will be there… (I couldn’t make the Brooklyn show on the 16th this month.. grrrr)
(1)
I must admit I had all this weird anxious energy today, anxiety over seeing family? I suppose, I could not explain it to myself and then after much self inspection I just let it go, this was not my wedding after all, and frankly it is only a cousin (whom I love and watched grow up quite literally so don’t get me wrong about relation), I like to pride myself on preparation, or I tell myself that, so as usual I was doing some last minute scrambling today, things I had planned.. but… eh… had not quote gotten to as of yet, so about an hour before I had to leave I decided to get my ducks in a row, being the semi strange artistic type (wrapped in the guise of everyday guy) I eschew greeting cards and write something personal regardless if it will be read or tossed for the cashola enclosed in the envelope, I have seen and attended enough affairs to see how the cards come in, and how many of the same thing pass through, I want to be memorable, for at least a slice of this life, so I give it a try, I can not hand write letters.. well, I CAN but my handwriting requires translation, it is horrendous to say the least, so I need to type things out, (and also this poem if you recall, part of my gift to the lucky couple as well as some mo-net), I do not use my home printer too often, so perhaps it might be lacking in TLC… or any C, but of course the thing starts with this grinding noise, I start to sweat and my temp is rising, I panic, I want to scream, something is wrong here… and I do not have time for this (the realization that this could have been avoided if I didn’t wait until the last minute is not yet a humorous thought to me as it is now writing this), I open every door, blow out the sensors with one of those air thrower can things, and nothing… DOA printer, I can’t just buy some dumb card… I just… can’t! I recall I have a another printer, sort of shoved in a corner like so much a wallflower, it should work, I think, I hope, I pray to the inkjet gods (they exist, their temple is Staples), so I hook the badboy up and plug in the USB cable with trepidation, the seas parted, the light of one thousand lights shone down, puppies cuddled with kittens, and magically, with great glee my printer queue was emptied and my ears were treated to the sweet whir whir of an inkjet head purring back and forth, ah, crisis averted, my words will be delivered and all will be right with the world (in truth I used fancy parchment looking/feeling paper to print my poem on and it jammed a few times, but that is quite a boring detail so I’ll exclude it), so, poem and personal note in hand (and cashier’s check) I was all set to go.
(2)
I had to drive my folks up to the gig, they are up there in the age race now and do not drive at night usually, and my mom does not drive at all anymore actually, no big deal, they have done enough for me over the years (hello diapers, they got me there for now) that Driving Mr and Mrs Daisy parents is the least I can do, as I said earlier I like to plan, I also like to not be a slave to GPS and know where the heck I am going, oy, I forgot the little address card for the place on the back of which I scribbled (in my pictogram handwriting) the directions, it is a pretty straight shoot but… there is comfort in the paper you wrote all this down on, no problem, cool, I got this, I memorized the directions (because I am such a head case), I just hope my memory is solid, as it turns out my memory served me well, I still must admit my self doubt in the whole thing, I would rather have the life vest when sailing the ocean, but… I’m not in the ocean and honestly I could pull over and google the damn place (easy to say now when I am out of non man non embarrassment mode), so we arrive, Valhalla Lake Club, never heard of it, never been, a really nice part of the state (you know, the Garden state, damnit), seriously we have some sections of Jersey that people would not believe, and heck I am a bad steward for my state for not knowing every inch and cranny, either way, no valet, we are waiting there, the minivan in front is doing all sorts of things, we can’t pass by on the driveway as it is too narrow, wtf are these people doing ? minutes seem like hours in these circumstances, plus I have no idea what the parking situation will be like, I start to get frustrated, minutes pass, thoughts run wild trying to figure out what the hell is going on with these people in front of me, thankfully no one is behind me, that would have upped the ante and I surely might have honked the horn, tick tock tick tock, wtf is taking so long? and then it hits, life with a lesson interjects, the minivan lowers like in a rap video, and a gentleman is escorted out in a wheel chair, if there ever was a court case for patience and a jury to convict, it was this, I was glad I relaxed the temptation to honk, I mean really, how was that ten minutes of my life real pressure? or even worth a worry for a second, I must remember that, lesson received good earth.
(3)
the rest was standard fare, not knowing where to stand, where to sit, the club members who were enjoying the day on the lake were out enjoying the day on the lake, it seemed odd, all these dressed up folks and on the periphery having a day at the beach (lake) as it were, granted they have probably seen this show before, clearly the place needs to do this as part of their business model and probably helps keep membership prices lower, at some point, some of the members seemed interested and some seemed non plussed, as did those at the wedding proper, I kind of enjoy the awkwardness in moments now, not personally, but observing same gives me some weird pleasure, seeing life interacting I suppose, weddings are strange now, growing up there was clear religious definition, this was more just celebration of the union outside of any religious overtones or circumstance, ‘readings’ by a couple of relatives, bad poetry (sorry, I am a critic), and some other well intention-ed stuff that sounded like children banging on pots and pans to this jaded literary ear, I admit I am a snob at times when it comes to that, I try to see and hear the every-man aspect of things, but I just can’t all the time, I am just not that, we are what we are, so readings aside there were vows, and stories by the ‘pastor’ (well, he is really a friend of the groom/bride chosen to reside on the moment), my cousin and her mate are truly in love, I have been to many weddings, I have seen love in many forms (some I would wish to un-see from the internet but this is not a time for that), they glowed when together, I will not lie and say it brought a tear to my eye, I could perceive it, I could feel it emanating from them, I know it because I had that once, when love is easy, and just there, like the warm sun in the morning, this is where logic fails me, and faith takes over, or hope, or both, I feel the dream again, was this supposed to be me at some point? was this my dream? I am lost in the moment, no need to video this, I am here in this, really experiencing the moment, and I feel happiness and joy for them.
(4)
the reception phase, the worst part, I kind of liked the mix of the cocktail hour, no set pieces, a few food options (excellent calamari by the way), the bar cleared out after fifteen minutes so I could grab an amstel, we are outside by a lake in the breeze, what can beat that? now we are inside, cozy place, cool lighting, is that really the dance floor? this makes me feel the most isolated, I do not like the music, the boom boom typical tunes are just not me anymore (or ever), they are antithetical to everything I enjoy, I used to be that floor devil ripping up the dance moves, but I have zero interest in that now, and I do not want to pretend anymore, I don’t want to pretend for anyone, I am not unhappy at all, I am taking it all in, I am truly happy for my kin but the whole wedding thing, this whole wedding thing, I have been there and back again, seen it, done it, seen it better, done it better, what’s the point? I am truly happy for my cousin, but in this microcosm I just don’t get the whole slavery to the same thing, the same wedding tropes, I get it, it is probably me, I would have been much happier if after the ceremony they said strip down and everyone jump in the lake, paddle-board, kayak, sit by the fire-pit and shoot the shit… that’s more real to me, does not make it right, and regrettably is not good for the older generation who we must venerate because we are soon them, but I yearn for something different, even if, even if… this was my dream at some point, so who am I to suggest what they should do, at some point that dream was mine, meet the girl of your dreams in college, date for nearly a decade, become husband and wife, have kids… it all sounds familiar and now so foreign to me, I had the girl, I had the life, and then it all crumbled, and here I am, enjoying filet mignon (rare) at my younger cousin’s wedding, where did things go wrong ? or did they at all? I imagined her here with me, sharing this with her, as I expected to share everything with her forever, but that is gone, and maybe that showed on my face, because it is certainly what is in my heart, but again, I am an optimistic person, a happy person, but the celebration tonight felt so foreign to me, I just felt like an alien among people I knew, even my brother who I thought looked like a buffoon, but he is engaged and has found a mate, so who is the fool.
(5)
I drove my folks home, interesting conversations when they are both tipsy but also not so much as they are losing their edge of mind. and this leads me to this, this post, all scrambled out right now write now…
wrote all this just now, first draft, I’ll revisit it tomorrow, but it is close to accurate…
Shades of My Garden 