It Don’t Come Easy…


Writing, well it don’t come easy when your not a writer and that would be me.  I’ve managed to skip a year and a half but I do have an excuse. A very valid one to boot.

After 37 years in Atlanta and 25 with the postal service I followed through in life by retiring, selling my home and moving to the mountains of North Georgia. You gotta figure those two endeavors have been quite the time consuming adventures. I’m loving every minute of life these days. My biggest fear in getting back to my blog was auto-fill remembering the password and it did. Guess I’ll dig out a picture or two and see if the morning brings a hint of inspiration.

Good shot of John and I. We’d not see one other or spoken in 35 years. My 2nd trip to Seattle (2015) and we finally connected.

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John live over in Capital Hill – We be at “Singles Going Steady” record store. Photo: Brian.

 

 

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Eyes Of The Sun by Otis


Authentic Rock and Roll from some seriously fine musicians.

Oasis Entertainment

For my 493rd review I am proud to announce Eyes Of The Sun, the second album my Kentucky based southern blues band Otis, which will be released on September 15, 2017 on the Purple Pyramid Records label and distributed by Cleopatra Records.  This Eleven track album has great guitar riffs and powerful vocals as found in such songs as Change, Home, Washed My Hands, Chasing The Sun, my favorite track off this album Turned To Stone and much more.  I need to get my hands on their first album since I like their music so much.  I was impressed on how well this album was written, performed, produced and recorded.  This is a must for anyone’s music library.  You can purchase this album at Bandcamp, Cleopatra Records, Itunes and everywhere else CD’s and digital downloads are sold.

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Here Comes The Sun


What a change from yesterday evening to this Sunday morning’s weather. Massive thunderstorms with drenching rains turned to heavily overcast steel grey morning, damp and breezy. Yeah change is in the air.

Stumbled across the street this morning with a cup of coffee in hand and my camera phone looking for something interesting, this all started at 5am because the cat woke me up. Looking back  a few years my neighborhood was tucked into a side-street just a block from from main street…over a period of several years the city has rebuilt itself and continues to do so. Please no debating on the merits of quality of life -v- progressive live work environment. I’m firmly in the center of downtown with bus stop(s) and heavy traffic (pedestrian & motorized). The learning curve was quick and continues.

Maybe it was the Pokemon crowd out last night?  Brooke Street Park is open 7/24, well lighted at night with its fountains, streams, memorials and a rather modern library whose’s alarm system is easily tripped by the  ‘skate-boarders’ even though they are outlawed on the property. The kids last night  left something for the morning guest (me) other than booze bottles, cig butts and candy wrappers. I enjoy their ‘Artistry’ in the band-shell. Chalk tagging is colorful and cool like an Art Festival but not the other type of tagging w/paint and such. Easily defined difference between art and f-ing defacement.

 

“Here Comes The Sun”
Songwriters: Lennon/Harrison/McCarty

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
And I say it’s all right

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“Summer is but fading as fall begins to wink & nod”

Wasted Words…?


Little if anything to post or publish that is not about me.  I am  conscientious  as the next person to realize that (me) just ain’t that exciting/glamorous or “in possession of profound insight/mystical adult knowledge”.  All I know and I know well is me, my life and experiences.  Something intangible yeah something like my inner dialogue tells me that once you come to know someone its OK not to be so concerned about  minute to minute life. I mostly feel that sharing  and living  where a purposely meaningful life exist.(tried to fix previous sentence and failed).

With the ending of summer a  reflection defines the word ‘austerity’. We have lacked rain most of the high-summer days which previously in the spring of 2016 resulted in a surplus of ground water. Now, yes now the rains have returned in abundance. Bring life to the yards, the trees, shrubs, bushes and wildlife. How obviously the vigor of life returns….” when those parched shackles are removed”.

What a great place to stop when writing….I’ve said a few things, shared a bit and how about a picture of ME…haha! Hope and wish all other bloggers are doing OK with all the trolls  well at least for me so I write sparingly y’all.

 

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Me making an artistic statement.

 

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Dude the Cat seriously not impressed with my artistic skill but he is warming up to the creative side.☮

 

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
“That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.”

The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
BY T. S. ELIOT

 

Come & Go Blues. . . .


Winter has seemingly come & gone or so it feels with this our springish weather. Plenty of sunshine to put the laundry on the line instead of the dryer. Marriages more so than engagements are all the rage, in the parks, the beach and any venue seemingly available. It  (Spring) is in the air and sky, the breeze and  morning dew. Buds are on the trees with some species blooming now and all the rest, from azaleas and dogwoods, even the little yellow flowers marching towards their colorful glory.

Why I have enjoyed this season of the year is at times a mystery. There are the emotional connections as well as those panic attack feelings of euphoria from the smells (sinus infections) , the changing weather (hail-v-tornados)  and eye catching colors (hay-fever).

My freshman year (1973) I had become friends with a couple who were seriously in passion and seriously in love with one another. The spring of ’74’ myself and some others  received formal invitations to Ricki and Les’s wedding. Just the excuse for a 3-day weekend and that we did.  Making the long story short we partied all night before the wedding, mainly because Les wanted to stay up all night and rap (not the rap of today). Truly the next morning everyone was dressed and ready to go in time. The wedding was a success although I don’t believe the marriage was.  And I lived to tell the tale ( most of his bachelor party  you will not hear from me but it was seriously tame compared with ‘today’s’ generation).

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William at 19 in Myrtle Beach S.C.

Their wedding was bright and sunny on the beach,  gentle sunshine, rolling swells, the birds being chased by the water along the shore. Perfect day and all that was missing was a unicorn (the bride) and ……………fill in the blank. It was Les when we arrived who grabbed me, took my shoes (physically removed them) and said, ‘no shoes on the beach’. I flustered  and protested all of 2 seconds and capitulated to his insistence. I thought I was cool till I met that dude ‘Les’. Yeah man, you were good to me and showed me the simple things like the no shoes on the beach. But you owed me, yeah. How many nights did you knock at 2am and bum a smoke, or 10am out of the shower shouting at nobody in particular for a ‘free’ towel. Come on, who goes to the shower and then stands naked hollering for someone to bring it to you cause you knew going in you didn’t have one? Les did and we loved him all the more for it. And Ricki his bride? She was 180 degrees different. Her yin and Him yang I suppose. She would give a friend the shirt off her back the same as I gave Les the shirt off mine……more than once.

 

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Les in the Tux-Me sitting-John behind me & J. Parks in the green jacket I sorta guess.

 

It’s a beautiful time of year although we have had snow up and until April. The mornings are starting earlier along with the song birds and my cat.  ‘Dude’ demands yard time earlier and earlier and refuses to come back in until the last and I mean in no uncertain terms, the last bird has nested for the night………TWICE!!  Winter may have come and gone but spring still has some growing to do.

 

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Red flowering camellia with a dusting….

 

 

What a beautiful day.


Pleasant day with a gentle breeze and with the warmth from the sunshine I was able to casually mow the front and backyards. Exiting the hospital 15 months ago from my second back surgery the really dour acting nurse in charge of me stated I had a (history) as she sent me home in the coolest ambulance  I’ve ever seen. That word, history, has stuck with me since then and it is good.

I’ve tried out many of my old work habits and discovered from pushing the mower, which is ok although sometimes I  have to break up the task into smaller pieces, the cumulative effect is the same.  I cannot go sliding under the boom of a 30 foot sailboat, clearing lines and tending my sheets during a tack and who only knows what else.  But anyhow it’s just a process of discovery of my limitations. Also wielding a chainsaw and splitting firewood seems to be off limits too.

But today is a beautiful day and when I put away my tools and closed the gate and walked to the front yard something inside of me echoed to look up in the sky.  I know it’s a  bit indifferent as freaking pictures of clouds go but I walked back inside, got my phone and took a picture.

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A beautiful day…

The Moon . . .


 

I am the biggest of fan and supporter of space travel. Indeed the thought of traveling through the cosmos is as old as mankind. So I guess that makes me pretty normal enjoying life on our earth and the heavens that I may gaze upon.  Also I’ve no idea of Jarod Kintz’s writings but I laughed when I read the quote and hey, I was looking for something to go with the picture….


 

“The moon looked like melted mozzarella to my bleary and blurry vision. Was I tired, intoxicated, or in love? Or was I sober, asleep, and alone?
”
― Jarod Kintz, At even one penny, this book would be overpriced. In fact, free is too expensive, because you’d still waste time by reading it.

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Earth rising over the moon . . .Apollo IIX

 

New Year Poem by Philip Larkin


These houses are deserted, felt over smashed windows,
No milk on the step, a note pinned to the door
Telling of departure: only shadows
Move when in the day the sun is seen for an hour,
Yet to me this decaying landscape has its uses:
To make me remember, who am always inclined to forget,
That there is always a changing at the root,
And a real world in which time really passes.

For even together, outside this shattered city
And its obvious message, if we had lived in that peace
Where the enormous years pass over lightly
–Yes, even there, if I looked into your face
Expecting a word or a laugh on the old conditions,
It would not be a friend who met my eye,
Only a stranger would smile and turn away,
Not one of the two who first performed these actions.

For sometimes it is shown to me in dreams
The Eden that all wish to recreate
Out of their living, from their favourite times;
The miraculous play where all the dead take part,
Once more articulate; or the distant ones
They will never forget because of an autumn talk
By a railway, an occasional glimpse in a public park,
Any memory for the most part depending on chance.

And seeing this through that I know to be wrong,
Knowing by the flower the root that seemed so harmless
Dangerous; and all must take their warning
From those brief dreams of unsuccessful charms,
Their aloof visions of delight, where Desire
And Fear work hand-in-glove like medicals
To produce the same results. The bells
That we used to await will not be rung this year.

So it is better to sleep and leave the bottle unopened;
Tomorrow in the offices the year on the stamps will be altered;
Tomorrow new diaries consulted, new calendars stand;
With such small adjustments life will again move forward
Implicating us all; and the voice of the living be heard:
“It is to us that you should turn your straying attention;
Us who need you, and are affected by your fortune;
Us you should love and to whom you should give your word.”

(31 December 1940)

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Kold w/Kolor @Resthaven Cemetary

Coffee beans and lemon grass………..


Coffee beans and lemon grass……….. The Poet Laureate of Jamaica.

One man’s dilemma is another man’s enlightenment. When the colonies revolted in North America and eventually produced the United States of America the revolution is considered only a part of Europe’s’ period of ‘enlightenment’. But for the citizens of the colonies it was a time and a place of such overwhelming importance that in the country itself there is no period of ‘ enlightenment’ as well most of Europe knows the reciprocal. This I believe to be true.

And what is the point? What we see and hear and learn, the knowledge one carries for their life is the compilation and assimilation of environment. Each generation hopefully and with wishful thinking becomes immune to repeating the lessons of the previous generation. At times there is success. At times a hundred generations still fight the same fight. Does the repetition of struggling comes from lessons never shared or possibly not learned? Just may-be we feel compelled to dominate what we cannot. Dominate nature, her mountains and seas….all creatures and man himself at the sacrifice of enjoining and communing of thriving and sharing. A human trait of arrogance which cannot exist outside of a humans mind. Behold the universe and apply arrogance, only misery will replace the falsity of that human vanity.

The country of Jamaica beginning in the 1960’s and lasting into the 80’s experienced something of a social revolution which appears lost to history. From those years came Mervyn Eustace Morris the Poet Laureate of Jamaica. Exploring life and death, living and surviving, Morris pens a social consciousness of his brothers and sisters. Not always quickly understood but timeless and accurate, his writings and observations of man, mankind and life stand today. Showing the reader a hallowed ground of allusion balanced with restraint. Indeed forcing the reader to earn the reward of reading, denying his fans and friends or family an instant fix of satisfaction. Writing in sparse and rhythmic verse, he writes as a Jamaican ….

“A Chant Against Death”

say family
say friends
say wife
say love
say life
say learning
laughter
sunlight
rain
say cycle
circle
music
memory

The thing of life, a heartbeat from start to end. He writes from the consciousness of himself.

As the Poet Laureate of Jamaica, Morris produced with neither reluctance nor ambivalence, verse written in ‘International English’ of political ideology. His message being simple and unadorned. Do we too easily become what we rail (verb) upon, socially, morally and unconsciously, “once you choose a side“.

‘To An Expatriate Friend’

Colour meant nothing. Anyone
who wanted help, had humour or was kind
was brother to you; categories of skin
were foreign; you were colour-blind.

And then the revolution. Black
and loud the horns of anger blew
against the long oppressions; sufferers
cast of the precious values of the few.

New powers re-enslaved us all:
each person manacled in skin, in race.
You could not wear your paid up dues:
the keen discriminators typed your face.

The future darkening, you thought it time
to say good-bye. It may be you were right.
It hurt to see you go; but, more,
it hurt to see you slowly going white.

Coffee beans and lemon grass in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.

Coffee beans and lemon grass in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica.

Poet Laureate Remarks at Investiture Ceremony King’s House, 21 May 2014
” As Dahlia Harris put it recently, speaking on behalf of Minister Hanna:
We hope for “poetry driven by a freedom to speak of ourselves . . . through forms,
content and language . . . more reflective of who we are as a people.” “

  • * * * * * * * *
  • “Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery.
    None but ourselves can free our minds.”
    ― Bob Marley

 Jamaica in the early 80’s gave me many gifts I have never forgotten nor taken for granted. These children are now the men of their country. I cannot speak for them but only read the wisdom they share to this day….walden