“origins cruel perception the trick of life am I the culmination of thought of dream my parents decision cosmic reconciliation into being”
sometimes I have a strange view on life. is this all a dream? how would I know, how would I really perceive it, and conversely are dreams real, are they reality, we think of something so it does and did exist because of that thought, it did happen, at least somewhere, in some space, in our mind, but yet we may dismiss this as not reality, what is reality, what brought us forth, a thought? perhaps, it is all a circular firing squad from there, a never ending loop, are we in the act of creating merely by imagination, or is imagination the cauldron of truth, of life, all determined by perception, a house looks much different from the inside than from the out, a mountain looks different when staring at the base than when peering from the summit, and that is a matter of feet, not a cosmic mile like looking at earth from the moon or taking a ride on neptune’s 165 year orbit to look around the solar system from another view, these are the things swirling around my brain this day…
the twin lives of selfishness and selflessness truly a world divided, a yin and yang, chang and eng, the tried, true and classic black and white cookie, still the two could not be more distinct but should they be? or more symbiotic than you might think, poor ole selfishness seems languished in reputation while selflessness is bathed glowingly in the perpetual limelight of hero worship, however, as with a book and it’s cover it pays to look under the surface, the subterranean is always harder to explore, you need the guiding light of the mind and a dash of some adventurous spirit (and perhaps a good pair of boots and sturdy rope), so let me make a case in the defense of selfishness, at some point you must have a drop of this, or a dollop of it added to your bloodstream, think of this infusion as a valid component of the prescription for self preservation, you are being carried away by raging waters, you must find a tree limb or other outcrop to hold onto, and from there, perhaps, you can furnish the rescue of others, but blind loyalty to selflessness may lead to needless death, for yourself, and those you might mean to save, all an equation, but one that must be mastered by the mind as instinct in a framework in which to act when called upon or needed, I have unfortunately read many an account where someone has jumped into a certain situation only to perish themselves, so, at least in this instance selfish was a bridge to selfless, complete and utter selflessness would have lead to further tragedy and served no one well, brief #2, a selfishness on the stand, if you do not take the time to keep your house in order how can you honor others? cross examine that for a spell, for the young knight who charges off into the battle in full shining armor, with gleaming honor, perfect edge to a shining blinding sword, and all the best intent ringing in his spurs, or consider the aged knight, war weary, battled in spirit, no less noble, perhaps a bit more selfish in the past as it has gotten him this far, and the poor young night now has the distinct experience with his head upon a spike, glorious helmet quite upright, chivalry may die quickly upon the shields of the young, and then perhaps there is the knight that only knows the love of gold, for he will truly die fat, happy, and quite alone, because in the realm of coin there are no citizens, only denizens of no self, a desert land of the self less, there seems to be some merit resident in selfishness to consider, when used as a tool to build and not a house to hold.
music to ponder the universe to: (ambient space goodness)
the rain has gone but the song of the storm still plays a heavy dirge upon theses lands (as I observe), there is always these storms this time of year, where the sky is utterly gray and unforgiving, not pockets of lightning, not roving cloud wombs birthing thunder, rains that once quenched the glorious hot pavement of summer, so distant now but from just weeks ago, all the demons and reasons creeping back in, in this season, the summer light kept them hidden, locked in their quarters, but now as the trees are being undressed, their hiding places no longer needed, they are coming out, to stalk the night as it grows longer and longer, chewing, gnawing at the edges of the day morsel by mouthful, a crescendo descends upon the devil’s night, as candy and subtle mayhem ignite imaginations, shadows and flickering candles dancing in jack smiles, the world is retelling the ancient story, one it knows well, sending emissaries and portents to further the tale, and should we pay mind, or pay strict attention, details and devils may rise, all in the slight of hand concealed by an autumn storm as it rages in from the ocean on familiar northeastern tract, we bustle about under all this happening almost unaware, this transforming, but yet it dictates our path, changes trajectories whether we perceive them or not, from one leaf down to the whole lot, soon, soon a blanket will come, not of comfort but stillness cold, as the world prepares and truth be told, not mere whispers but whipping winds, change is coming and has already been.
notes… thanks to all who read my words, all thoughts, comments, recipes, music recommendations and everything else is appreciated, I write this blog for me but if it helps anyone else? I’m cool with that, thanks.
a prayer to know when is the time to surrender to life when is the time to conquer this life and to then know and tend the vast grounds between
a prayer for the small birds whose confidence I can not seem to garner for may they find what they need in this coming barren season although there is no need for I see them every spring
notes… for those who might be new to peruse my blog, I use ‘prayer’ in the non religious sense, if you want to use it in the religious sense, cool, I have no problem with that, I think everyone looks to the sky at some point and asks for something sometime, I was an atheist once upon a time but these days I want to believe there is something else but have to accept the possibility there is nothing and I will simply disappear from all existence when I am gone, there is no hope in that end, so I choose hope over logic in that regard, does it quell my mind and fears ? no… but it is better than utter despair, so that is where I am at, prayer is not a harmful thing, try not to make it selfish, I think that is the right ring… (and I do post other ‘prayer’ works, check out my collections & series page).
death, mistress I will never court thee but yet I am subject to your whim left to fend off your crop I will not give in – willingly or say your name with reverence death, mistress
(2)
on the randomness of moths and their addiction to flame just because I can not discern a pattern does not mean their commotions are not plain
notes… two unrelated works, written on the same day on different sides of my brain, the first one I consider a circular poem, the second just a thought, maybe just brush strokes really, but that’s fine, a little nug of truth beats a mountain of nothingness any day… or at least that is the story I am sticking to… thanks for the view (yes, you).
music?Humanmeshdance – Moth…. from a really limited EP, I forget how many copies were made at the time, but this… is the digital age so…. ambient goodness…. oh so good…
even the universe shall have an end, hard to conceive of, I know, are we just the microcosm of what our science perceives, of course we all wish to expand our experience into infinity, the eternity of time, when all the while we know all things have an end, even this, maybe our concept of hope lies in the loop, of coming back around again, after all, matter is not created or destroyed, all matter that is going to exist exists now (as far as we know more or less), matter just gets repurposed like that half an oak barrel that is now a feature in my garden (ok, maybe not the most elegant example), but this combination of matter (me), this particular one wishes to persist even with the knowledge, the certainty that I am just a place holder for something other, how can I look hope in the eye with that and seek truth,
how or why can I harbor hope… but somehow… but somehow… …I do.
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music tonight… Tycho “Japan”, I will admit, I am a total fanboy but I think it is warranted and I have been touting his work for years, he works in multiple mediums not just music… the one link on top is the vocal version, this is the “instrumental” version (modern instruments that is… electronic), I just dig it, it scratches all my itches.
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
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“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)…
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)
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 ?
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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…
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…
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…
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.
so, the wave has begun the first domino has fallen a generation to come – to an end. I have seen the wave coming for some time off on the horizon off in that inevitable ocean but so soon crashing upon the shore this is the way of things for we are mere pillars of rock hewn of sand drawn down and back into the surf from which we once rose in and out the flow of this life, we pretend to have some modicum of control ever looking at that horizon and the coming waves as they come for me surely, some day
notes: for a while now I know a certain portion of my family is at the cliff, at the precipice of that final step, it is a generational thing, I have been admittedly lucky that death has not visited my doorstep too often, my grandfathers both died before I was two, my grandmothers died at advanced ages not suddenly, that is pretty much it, but now… it is only a matter of time where I fear (know) they will be dropping like flies, I can not imagine what it is like for my parents who have lost friend after friend over the past couple of years, death is not a fickle beast, you can do all you want but she still comes for you whenever she wants, my folks are not in great shape, or of particularly long DNA stock but they are around to witness the deaths of all their friends, it is a strange thing, one we all do not want to imagine or even live in, but it is always there,the horizon seems far but is always approaching. So this poem is about that, my uncle who is gone now, some months, he was an intellectual in such a way that he ordered no funeral or even memorial, I understand that from a logical/scientific perspective, but maybe those things are more for the living than the dead… a moment in time to bring together a family to remember they are indeed family, maybe even if just for a moment, and perhaps bonds can be reborn, or remade, or started anew as the younger ones in the family are transitioning into the elders and having their own children, the conveyor belt runs better with connectivity, and that requires time set aside to be together… just a thought or thoughts…
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I know, not my usual Saturday lighter musings, and the weekends are where posts go to die, I don’t care, I post what is on my mind, maybe it is because I had to wake up @ 5:30am today to go to work, Sam (the dog) gave me that look like “really dude? you are never up this early”, and of course she’s right, starbucks lasted until about 6pm then I passed out, back up again and writing this, so maybe my mind isn’t quite the same as usual, that’s ok, sometimes you gotta’ shake the tree and see what happens.
Music???? sure… not that you asked but damn I am a persistent mofo pushing what I love…
Simple and sweet, the vocals are just so friggin good, if you like 3 part harmonies and the Beatles.. well, this should be up your alley (except Doug has a better voice than any of the Beatles individually, I know blasphemy…). My cousin Renee worked in the city @ the time and sent me the CD with this track on it along with a signed poster, that had to be 1994, it made my year (thanks cuz!), and later I got to meet them many many times over the years, great peeps.
Shades of My Garden 