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

1 - Copy

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

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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).

Myrtle beach 1974

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.

 

llllllllllllll

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.

 

cam

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.

IMG_7238

A beautiful day…

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)

c and c full size

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

No Clue do You?


I found this on a old disc……….clueless? I have dedicated about 1-2 hours a day to preserving all the photos, mostly digital over the past month. No clue as to shelf life of these disc. Their age is suspect, but and but is the big if, seemingly hit the peak of photos from 2001 until about 2010. What happen to the balance I am clueless. Found a picture of a woman wearing a pair of Zebra boots and another of a cat and a set of the young widowed woman with two dogs.  I hope she made it to Colorado.

Cool…the word I was looking for is archiving. The preservation of pictures of shit that has no meaning to none but me. Even the trunk full of 35mm photographs, the handful of properly displayed vacations and the negatives can be summed up w/a quote(s)?

” For 40+ years I set the dinner table while cooking. When its time for dinner no one has ever shown up. So I throw the shit in the garbage, put the plates, glasses and flatware up and repeat the same steps each evening. Same results. ”

Pretty much sums up the archiving…..(laughter).

New Mexico

New Mexico

 

Really random stuff…..


Just posting to keep a pulse on my blog. So for now its mostly visual and sparse and really random..enjoy.

When at this computer here in order is the album of songs I listen too. If not this then I stream WKDK am…..Newberry South Carolina. Evenings mostly is random music from the 60’s thru the 80’s, time, temp and weather. Other nights its South Carolina ‘Football’…

Soul Serenade…..King Curtis

Dig a Pony…………Beatles

Across the Universe…….Beatles

Devil Got My Woman….Gregg Allman

Bell Bottom Blues…..Derick and the Dominoes

Bertha…..Grateful Dead

Savannah Mama….Blind Willie McTell

Back on My Feet Again….Randy Newman

She Caught the Katy……Wet Willie

Wah-Wah……..George Harrison

The weather in the south has been wet this summer. Its easy…East Coast moisture north to south…mid third of the country moisture wraps southward above the plains. funnel into Ga-alabama

I’m behind the new Alpharetta City Center 100%…..lol.

Alpharetta City Center

Alpharetta City Center

 One supervisor and one worker. Its the American way..

1 supervisor 1 employee

1 supervisor 1 employee

When I was a kid in the 1960’s this was the Thomson/McDuffie county Jail House.

Thomson/McDuffie County Jail House

Thomson/McDuffie County Jail House

About 10 minutes from the house. Swallow at the Hollow. 100% great Southern Bar-B-que.

Singer-song-writer showcase and Americana music…think ‘The Loft’ on satellite radio.

Swallow At The Hollow -Roswell, GA-

Swallow At The Hollow
-Roswell, GA-

Sir Richard Branson…see below.

Richard Branson -5 questions and a quote-

Richard Branson
-5 questions and a quote-

I cannot for the life of me find the ‘5 Questions’ Branson published. The questions suitable for a job applicant or the applicant to the employer… Quotes below.

‘Why a business plan is only as good as one’s first contact with a customer’.

‘What do you need to take on a giant & win? Nothing but bravery, good people & a great idea’.

‘If somebody asks why are you looking up at the sky, ask them why they aren’t looking up at the stars’.

First ‘ floor-mat’ joke of your day??

Floor Mat

Floor Mat

Dockerys restaurant closed this year and it happened sooner than later. I’m here with the lady who brought me my last meal. She had always been the best.. During the goodbyes I managed to take some pictures of the people who I shared the establishment with over the years but never held a conversation.

She and I

She and I

 

I found a great sit back with a cup of coffee on a rainy Sunday afternoon. With this piece thirty minute read is too short, great article nevertheless.  Don’t let the title fool you into believing its a ‘government/political statement from the State department. It more and provocative in the light of the reality. Families apart and separated physically and emotionally, divided by juxtaposed societies and bound by their common culture.

THE ISLAND OF STOPPED CLOCKS: INSIDE CUBA 50 YEARS AFTER THE REVOLUTION

THE ISLAND OF STOPPED CLOCKS: INSIDE CUBA 50 YEARS AFTER THE REVOLUTION
BY JACKSON BLAIR
(What you cannot see on the video is how, over the course of the next few hours, Lesley realizes she’s lost the 25 years for good. That after all this time, the history they shared is too too faint or too slight to be recovered. Entering the terminal, she felt a brief but overwhelming sense of familiarity. But after the hugs and tears subsided she felt tentative and swept up by family in name only).

Leave em’ laughing I’ve been told….Lighter side of life.

-Why does Goofy stand upright and Pluto stand on all four feet? They’re both dogs.

-Do “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and “The Alphabet Song” have the same tune?

-On Gilligan’s Island, the professor could make a radio out of a coconut. Why couldn’t he fix the hole in the boat?

-If Wile E. Coyote has enough money to buy all that stuff from ACME, why doesn’t he just buy himself dinner?

Moby Dick
Elijah:
( Ye’ve shipped, have ye? Names down on papers? Well, what’s signed, is signed; and what’s to be, will be )

Mark Twain on the press:

“There are laws to protect the freedom of the press’s speech, but none that are worth anything to protect the people from the press.”

It seems to me that just in the ratio that our newspapers increase, our morals decay. The more newspapers the worse morals. Where we have one newspaper that does good, I think we have fifty that do harm. We ought to look upon the establishment of a newspaper of the average pattern in a virtuous village as a calamity.

Just really random stuff….

XXVII fortnights have passed………


It is here the background begins as too ‘why’ thee Crimson Court convenes..

There was a small kingdom within a kingdom and it was there a most productive, well ordered and progressive village did grow. Many a generation all did thrive. The women bore their children, the men fought in wars when called upon to defend their good and dignified town and in turn their kingdom. No-one of conquered lands would call these fine citizens imperialist. Their fields were prosperous and productive. All was not perfect in the small town nor wrong nor bad. The ‘torch’ of knowledge was passed accordingly from the elders to the next younger generation and only when thee generation had earned knowingly and accordingly the lessons of life, some achieving higher stations obviously than others. Lessons were hard earned and oral history passed to the next,  much like the boot-maker or artesian who from apprenticeship to journeyman toiled for the day his shingle is hung to pronounce to all ‘craftsman’.

 Do not be misled that the lessons from the elders and knowledge gained to be accepted as an elder is or ever will be as simple as the craftsman. His ‘will’ to be the judge and jury, King or executioner, forever carrying the burden of self sacrifice, decision making with a most voluntary introspective penitence to be fair, right and final in any and all conflict of dogma. Indeed every decision follows him to the grave and accordingly beyond. And it is to the beyond his life has answered too and conferred with since birth. Sadly found in all land of plenty and good will be those who find a village or kingdom is but a natural resource they reave too quietly rape!

 When those ‘said forth summoned’ do arrived to be judged, be ye man or woman and thee forced or misled to assist with infecting the ‘essential structures’ of the villages’ and kingdoms’ dogma with blacken skepticism.  Let it be noted now…. Some will have hands empty of the wrong they have done.  Others  yes they will possess vast canyons of arrogance, ‘intelligent practice’ with grey cloud of pragmatism.  Be not caught off guard when indeed they lay claim to the darkness of their history.  They among themselves have written their history to serve only to elevate and serve a very dark and ignoble deed of greed and I do submit as wrong. 

“This I Have Written”

Convene the Crimson Court…


Adventum “aurata Wren” signa iudicio Tx3 in Regnum RUFUS. Apparet quidem ut in curia est ad conveniri. Fiat scriptum. amen

Arrival of the “Gilded Wren” signals a verdict of Tx3 in the Kingdom of Crimson. Forthcoming indeed as the court is to be convened. Let it be written. Amen

Unfortunately, simplistic vindication seldom illuminates profound issues, hence the reliance of the weak upon myth.

Quote from “Sir Francis”

 

 

Is there nothing I can do . . . . . .


First 5 bars

 We are always meditating on something, but we get to choose what.

When the subject or the personal or professionally interaction occurs where there is myself and a woman involved is there nothing I can do to better or more thoroughly understand the female’s mindset?  Nearly six decades into this life and the ever changing ever evolving opposite sex still remains to this individual the enigma dwarfing the construction of the pyramids of Egypt much less the concept of the Pythagorean Theorem.  I not sure but the feeling is this blog is about women simply because you remain to this day the mysterious one of all to me it seems you the female are never alone no matter where you are and seemingly never lost or at a loss.

Just this past week I head up to Dockerys’ here in-town for the weekly treat of eating a meal out of the house and in a café. The lunch menu as well as the breakfast has always been simple and good. Omelets, eggs, grits, biscuits for breakfast or the meat and two with tea and cornbread for lunch and maybe a desert. In the past few months since receiving a free iPhone I’ve developed the habit of copying articles and book chapters to notepad and forwarding them to my hot-mail account. Wherever I am I can open up a e-mail and read too my hearts content with out surfing the net. Two different letters I’d sent to my hot-mail account have kept me busy for a while. The first is EXPOSED By Emily Gould 05/08 where a argument with Jimmy Kimmel on CNN produced something of a life changing publication and provocative insight for Emily. The other and most exciting e-mail read is with Cheryl Strayed the writer whose career is looking like a NASA mission to the ISS.

At age 22 Cheryl having lost her mother age 45 to cancer having a marriage in taters and unable to find the correct energy to keep her family together bailed out into California to hike the PCT all 1100 miles from the desert to the mountains. Having never camped in the out of doors much less backpacked she did it. She did it thru every season available and the trials and pain, mental and physical. Admittedly and rightfully Cheryl realized the journey was not the answer to her troubling life but a benchmark to follow thru to where she is today. The adventure entitled * “Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail” immediately was optioned by Reese Witherspoon and Director Lisa Cholodenko will be at the helm with Cheryl on as associate producer.

Having walked up to Dockerys seating myself as the custom without looking up I muttered ‘unsweet tea’ to the waitress while scrolling up a read on the iPhone.  Better yet below the pictures is what I wrote down when I got back to the house after lunch…..

 

Chicken Lady of Alpharetta

Chicken Lady of Alpharetta

Beets..Okra..Chicken dumplings..cornbread

Lunch today the waitress brought me a tall glass of tea and a very short straw. When I mentioned to the waitress the fact my straw was a full couple of inches beneath the lip of the tea glass the waitress instructed me thus..

‘On the wall in the men’s-room is a roll of paper on the wall, write your complaint on the roll and we will see to it”!! The mood in the dining area changed to much better when the waitress returned with a short glass of tea and …a long straw asking me if I am happy now.  Got around to asking her name something I find difficult to do unless the ‘timing is correct’. With orders and conversations abounding during the lunch hour I waited until the cube-rats had thinned a bit.

15 minutes later she sat down at a side table rolling flatware into paper napkins with the pause in the air I simply asked ‘what’s your name?’.  Replying she said ‘just call me the Chicken Lady of Alpharetta’. I laughed or more so the chuckle mentioning if indeed I could use the name in this blog. ‘Make me famous and put in there I’m from ‘Mobile, Alabama’. Scooting back it my plate while sitting two tables apart we discussed the differences of Birmingham, Alabama from middle of the state to differences of lower and gulf coast Alabama.

Chicken Lady of Alpharetta said her grandmother’s side of the family was mostly from Louisiana and it was there she had spent half of her life.  Interestingly enough I felt she had a closer affection  ofLouisiana than Mobile. In fact she told me her grandmothers’ home on Dauphin Island, Alabama had been lost to a hurricane in the 60’s. Blown clean off the low lying island the structure floated on the ocean for three days becoming a hazard to navigation until it sank to the bottom. Her grandmother’s home was rebuilt on the tiny island. The latest word from the island Chicken Lady of Alpharetta told me of State Farm insurance company celebrating the last remaining tree on Dauphin Island being lost to a hurricane. Apparently the regular weather devastation of the homes on the island cause by falling trees had dug a hole in the company’s profit margin!!!

Found a e-mail from a special interest group I’d signed up with a few months ago over internet usage, freedom of speech, intellectual property, bandwidth, twitter and well just about all things internet. The subject at hand was the ongoing problems with Pinterest over property rights. Locally a woman with a Boudoir Photography company and Portrait Studio of the highest caliber had second thoughts from blog input. Too make a long story short after gnashing of teeth and fretting Kirsten Kowalski in her blog ‘ ddk’s blog ‘  deleted her work in Pinterest and it hurt her to do so. The viral input landed on the desk of Ben Silbermann owner and founder of Pinterest. For business purposes his site is the godsend for companies like K’s photography but and the but is large as always attorneys has spelled out the most ambiguous terms of usage and Kirsten spent a lot of time reading the ‘terms’ in order to be a good steward in using the site and had to delete her works. In the end Ben Silbermann firstly e-mailed to arrange a ‘call’ to see what the two of them could brainstorm in order to get K’s business back and to expand the business while protecting the artist work and his ‘terms of usage’.  There are some links if you care to look a bit deeper and check out ddk’s studio and blog.

With one foot in the door and one foot out something I though I’d never see and something I’d never considered. Singer, songwriter and artist Gregg Allman’s biography debuted at #2 on the New York Times best seller list.

My Cross to Bear #2

My hats off Mr. Allman and good health to you too. From the excerpts I seen of the book the cloak is removed allowing the life and times of him, his family and music to be laid out and available for viewing. I’ve not a clue as to the highs and lows but in the life of mine the highs will never equal the lows just maybe that’s what makes my life  so very real.

give a listen……..McTell