note… let me know if you get it (or how you get it), or if you read it different than how I wrote it, I am not you, I can’t be (that would be weird… c’mon now you are creeping me out), but I am curious how other people read this. there is a bunch of ways, is this a statement ? or a question ? or both…
Thoughts and cinnamon buns are appreciated. As well as follows (just not around my neighborhood, I would have to call the local authorities…)
Often I think about how we fill our minds up with ‘stuff‘ (thank you George Carlin)… How easy it was to be in the blissful cross-hairs of youth. Innocence is just one of those things that can not be put back into the bottle (as much as we may try). I used to feel a sad pity for those with special needs but now at times I am jealous (to an extent as a mental exercise) that they can exist in the perpetual bliss of unawareness. Sure, I would not be who I am if I was not self aware… but the pull of that other option, the temptation is certainly there. Self awareness and in my case overly active brain is tiring at times… maybe that is why when I am on vacation I prefer a lonely beach so I can pretend that the waves are washing away all the crust the world has built up upon my hull… but it takes a toll… how much? We will never know. But if you do… I would love the answer, please tell me so… so I can truly rest before the true (final) rest. But I suppose, like everyone I will just be out there sailing the seas of thought seeking islands of legend… and then one day running aground near some nameless forgotten port, sinking, absorbed into the shifting sands at the bottom of the ocean of time, my particles to become the building blocks for some other creation… be it animated or not, a crab perhaps but I would hope for more…. but like all else I am not in control of such things.
“simple observation” 6.10.18
making up games
rules are loose
made up races
I miss the whimsy of youth
notes on the poem: I wrote this in a rest area on the GSP… (like many things), a couple and their kids had unloaded out onto the picnic area… and just… the kids did what kids do, making games of the world, amazing, I miss that.
notes… we all have tried to lure the birds, some are cautious, some are courageous, we pretend to think they understand us… but they are just trying to survive… how different are we… who is tossing us crumbs ?
also.. this is me being kind of haiku-ish in mode but not form. Total kudos to those who like the constraint, I’m not wired that way.
and for no reason… just posting one of the most underrated songs of the “grunge” (ugh that hurts me to type…) age.
I don’t quite live in the city. I don’t quite live in suburbia. I exist somewhere in between. I pass by lots of concrete but also lots of leaves (this time of year, at least). Back to my point, my thrust… You should find beauty, wherever you may go.
A speck, something to upturn the day. A face – in a cloud, A face – in a crowd. A child’s smile, a child’s laugh, a child crying. Often if I hear a child crying I will smile (wait… hear me out)… For I was once that child, it is the purest sound, of life. For I was a child once, not so long ago (at least in cosmic time). Crying over something simple but we are just larger children now, worrying about larger things. But what is the difference between a switch of licorice and a mortgage ?
I saw a stream by the roadside. I should have stopped when spontaneity threw it’s hook out. I should have pulled over. But I did not. But I should. To find beauty in a moment. I truly should… endeavor to find beauty, wherever I may go.
Notes… I have posted some photos recently on this blog (you probably noticed)… I am literally trying the above, but not just photos… with my words, we will see how it goes, I want to focus on life… because I am alive now! we all feel immortal, until…
I can not tell you what a dopey smile that brings to my face… the hours playing that utterly iconic game… but check out her other stuff, awesomely talented player … and she covers all sorts of the geek realms..
notes… truth be told, this is truth. I am without her for 15 years now… it seems crazy to contemplate or digest, I am wired different than the rest of you (I think), I am quite sure she is not. I never took many photos, but then again I have an almost photographic mind…so…. I remember almost everything down to the last detail, which is great, and torture. I remember exactly how the scar on her right arm feels… she never told me the story, I never pressed, I figured it did not matter as she was with me, and… and… what does it matter, but I remember how distinct it felt (and still do)… I raise my fingers to my lips and whisper her name, so I can feel the sound reverberate against my finger tips… I miss her, I feel incomplete… but, there is nothing I can do, I screwed it all up… and I’m sorry, but I am here now… but I want to go back… but I can’t.
music… I am on an Anna Murphy kick, she rules, her solo album is amazing… but check this out… I dare anyone to not hear her vocal prowess:
notes… I had some differing things in mind here… of course I am referring to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon (one of the original 7 wonders of the world, and no… not from the mini golf course in Overboard (the original not the remake))… I was also thinking about the all time great poem Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge… So.. throw that all in a blender and make it about love as well in a personal context… love being like a garden we cultivate (hopefully) but like a real garden there are so many factors that factor into the outcome… the rest I will leave up to you, because if you got this far, well, thanks.
post note… I forgot to mention.. 7, it is considered a magical number, my birth date is 7 times 3, both considered magical numbers, so no, I am not into astrology or numerology… just sayin…
Also, 7 days in a week.. seven “tier” (tears)… 7 openings in your head… all these things are in this poem, in my head … and now yours I suspect.
music? … ok, maybe… here is something pretty nature-y and ambient (I hate that word sometimes as it may imply boring electronica but… there is no other genre word, I think… so just trust me). Sounds from the Ground has put out some awesome stuff over the years, this particular track always stuck with me… it tells an old fable/tale over cool calm music… very unique… you have to listen to get it…
notes… poem 1 (up there) I was driving home (as I am known to do) and there was this weird triangle of ravens flying over the GSP… ravens don’t fly in formation, well, I haven’t asked them but from experience I think it so… also, spring was late, so as fluid as time is… we relate to what is our “now”… spring has been ‘late’ probably a billion times (and probably does not care what I think, dammit). I was toying with how limited our experience is but we expect it to be “the norm” which is totally silly given our short lifespan compared to the machinations or more real the gears of nature that work beyond our scope (and could care less about us even being here), I was also commenting on how we panic when things kind of don’t work out like we think they should based on our experience.. such limited experience even after 40 years on this rock….
poem 2… it is easy to say I am not afraid… but we all are. it is easy to say all I fear is death… but we all fear plenty of things, we all forget, we drive, take showers, go on vacation, have kids (well, none that I know about…), etc… it is much harder to actually let go of fear in times when the real pressure of actual life is applied. I am trying to live life free of fear, to live moment to moment.. to trust my instincts… but honestly I am not doing the greatest job of it. People can’t believe some of the things that come out of my mouth but really I am not being me 100% and I should because this is the only life we get as far as I know… and that is all I know, my limited little brain, as smart as I think I may be… death has taken us all from Einstein to Hitler, so I want to be free…
totally random music… this is a mix of cuban/puertorican/island (with brass instruments) music with metal… one of the most unique bands that ever was… I love mixed up mutts like this…
A continuation of my Voyager series (1, 2)… and now 3! Of course there is not an actual 3rd mission but I had to number these to avoid confusion among the handful of people actually reading them…and myself honestly. They all have a common thread but different flavor (I hope). Maybe I am like voyager throwing things out into the universe to see what I see… throwing my own golden disc into the vast expanse of the internet perhaps finding an alien I can teach my language… or maybe I just like to write, or somewhere in between the two probably is the domain of the truth, at least for now… and without further adieu…
“voyager 3” 7.2.2018
a faint –
ever traveling further
every moment every second every hour
a thin beam of light suspends dust
through the seam of a midnight door
a whisper slithers down the hall
I strain to hear
I might remember
how I came upon this place
this cold space
a litany of stars
but none are close
none are warm
all are far
notes… I am specifically commenting on Voyager 1 here… It is in interstellar space now (see my original post to learn about all that). So… it takes 17 hours (more now) to receive a message from Voyager 1 so hence the ‘strain to hear’ reference… and the line ‘a thin beam of light suspends dust’ is a specific reference to this photo… Our planet… from the perspective of Voyager after it left the solar system… humbling, to say the very least. This little satellite that could is now in between stars… which illustrates the sheer vastness of space, hence the rest of the poem, maybe some people think I should not explain things or whatever… but these are very specific references I am playing with here that I want the reader to understand… now I am leaving huge gaps in metaphors as well… so this poem has other levels (like personal) but I want people to understand the core of the feeling as it energized me to write the piece(s).
so… some more trippy ambient avant garde stuff ? sure… I got that in spades folks.