Tuesday, March 30, 2010
Sunday, March 28, 2010
It’s that time when the dreams fade into a new day.
Even keeping the eyes closed doesn’t refute the fact that the body has moved from still to knowing
The ears become aware of the sounds of the awaking. Birds call to a mate in short phrases, awaiting to hear a similar response.
The wind picks up right before the sun rises. It is the coldest moment of the night turning to day.
Next door the dogs nails tap a frantic dance across the deck chasing the shadows of the night.
Lights begin to break the dark silence and the city stirs.
This is also the time when the mix of dreams and reality blend bringing new ideas for the morning.
The deference between what is reality and what is the fog from the night drifts as the clock down the hall metronomes the time.
Throw back and covers, swing the legs out, and step on the floor with back straight. Stand up quickly and start to stretch the tendons pulled tense from yesterdays dreams.
Waking every morning brings a new adventure.
And thought I’m not sure, but at this time in life, it beats the alternative.
Friday, March 26, 2010
The dusty old AM/FM clock radio I used to use to wake me up years ago, came out from the findings and was placed on the refrigerator to become the fifth clock.
A tinny sound come from the plastic box and with some twirling of the nob, a few stations were loud enough to listen too.
Country/ western (which sounds more like Pop or Rock), the hip-hop mess, talk (blah-blah-blah) radio, and soft rock.
I decided on soft rock and for the past two days have spent two hours listening to this mush while surfing Facebook and 4 different email accounts (no, I don't know why).
But I can only stand so much of Journey, Kansas, or even Elton John (although the song "Tiny Dancer" gave me pause).
The sound has stuck to the bottom of my shoes as I walk outside into the rain and sounds of the leaves blowing in the spring turn winter again breeze.
I think I prefer the sounds of silence.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
I think it is a sport, this alley cruising.
One man's trash is another man's treasure.
So we put out things not needed or wanted anymore and the scavengers show up and remove the treasures before the city waste crew can remove it.
To me it is a donation to an unknown family, all for free.
The items may be repaired or sold or broken down and used for parts.
Inspirations for invention can used from what is scrap for others.
Televisions, refrigerators, stoves, and furniture have been placed in the alley.
The next day they disappear.
I'm satisfied with the results since I wanted it removed anyway.
Some see these people as rats stealing scraps, but I see them as opportunist who realized a great deal and with a little effort and exploration, can find treasures.
Monday, March 22, 2010
There you go Bob. Change the subject and give yourself a self diagnosis and prescription for relief.
Bob acknowledges he has heard of the medicine, or is it some weird name and he wants more information.
Not a real good endorsement from Tom, but it does end the reference to his father.
Good old Mary. Agreeing again. I bet she gets a lot of dates.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
The dark little secrets that only one knows. We keep this information to ourselves and secure into our deepest mode what hides there.
It may be a mystery to ourselves, but we can not divulge this information.
Will you admit your darkest secrets to yourself?
If you tell someone else, then they are no longer secrets.
Do you think you don't have secrets?
Do you share your email? What about your friends on FaceBook?
I have an old army footlocker under lock and key. Within it I hold the secrets of previous moments that mean so much to me that I have carried them throughout my life, but have never shared with anyone.
We will all carry our secrets until the end.
Do you want to know a secret?
The house on the corner was having a party, probably for the same reason, warm weather and sunshine. Perhaps it was just a good reason to drink beer.
The darkness hides many secrets that the daylight presents, but the path is the same so I should be able to find my way.
Strobe lights flashing, dividing the shadows as a guiding light, the trees bare arms glow in the street lights. There is a sliver hangnail of a moon as a plane lights the sky.
Only a few mobile machines join me on the sandy streets, tops down and no signals, but I am patient and familiar with the lack of curiosity of distracted drivers.
I mail my census glowing in the feathered buds of the trees at the mall glowing in the streetlights.
I return, unscathed by the night, rewarded by liquid and peanut butter cookies for my fine achievement today of taking the last structure down from the upstairs area.
I walk through the rain of the birch tree announcing spring by weeping away winter.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
It seems everyone is on his or her phones, but whom are they talking to.
It seems the human spirit needs to speak (or we wouldn't have create language. Rough gestures don't make sense anymore now that we can describe our surroundings, dreams, wishes and feelings.
But do we need to do this all the time?
The phone companies think so, so they promote an atmosphere where everyone must be connected with everyone else, all the time.
And if the spoken word isn't enough, there is texting, email, social networks, and even cameras to keep each other entertained.
Do we have a need to call each other every so often, to make sure we are not forgotten or just to hear another voice?
Have we become speed dial numbers and email addresses? Should this be our description on driver licenses? When the government wants its taxes, should they call NeverLand132@dingdongbell.net?
My phone isn't that smart and I turn it off every night.
Been fun talking to you.
One will make a statement as a status and the other sends a comment, then the first responds to the comment, and it continues.
I can rationalize this behavior if they are miles apart and they want everyone to watch them chat. Of course that is what emails and chats are for. Why do these couples want to expose their conversations to the world?
Realizing today's need to stay connected through mass technology, I wonder about people's communication skills.
Are they in the same building? Are they in the same room? I've heard tales of this happening.
Do we want the impersonal and remote tapping on keyboards to the vocalization of ideas and thoughts?
Tap tap tap"Hi! I'm in the kitchen, looking for something to eat."
Tap tap tap "Look the refrigerator for some leftover meatloaf."
Tap tap tap "Are you hungry?" 8^p
Tap tap tap "LOL"
Tap tap tap "What?"
Tap tap tap "Do these pants make me look FAT?"
Tap tap tap "Skype me and I'll let you know. Oh, look, chocolate cake!!"
Tap tap tap "I'll send you an email. I'm sitting on the scanner."
…. A voice in the room
…… echos through the headphones.
"HOW DO I TURN ON THE SCANNER!"
A natural periodic state of rest marked by the suspension of consciousness.
Our fail shells need to have these periods of sleep to regenerate and renew the spirit.
We relate time with sleeping. When it is light, we awake and carry out our daily chores and when it is dark, we rest.
We assign entire rooms for this activity. We dress for this activity. We lavish ourselves with sweet scents, soft pillows, smooth sheets, and plush covers. We give comfort to each other or hold tight objects of affection for our safe passage into darkness.
But sleeping also brings us dreams. Some say dreams are our subconscious relating our daily activity and sorting the people and experiences into the minds filing system.
Others believe dreams are the mind's recognition of places and feelings we do not or can not observe while awake.
So what are nightmares?
The other night, I awoke while it was dark. I could tell it was late in the morning and I should not be ready to arise, so I did what I normally do, turned over, fluffed the pillows and shut my eyes, fully expecting to go back to sleep.
I didn't. I tossed and turn a few more times, then after realizing I had been in this state of flux for an hour, decided to get up.
I got dressed, put on my glasses and walked into the empty dark living room. What was I going to do at this hour when I am usually drooling on my pillow and kicking the covers on the floor?
I got a bottle of water and a book, sat down in a comfortable chair and began to read.
It seemed so easy. I was not bothering anyone else. I was rested and focused on my book. I didn't even get startled when the newspaper hit the door.
Yet I was in someone else's time.
After a while, I put down the empty bottle, placed the book on the sofa, and returned to the bedroom. Closing my eyes, I went quickly back to sleep.
The next morning, the sun arose and I awoke. Redressing, starting the coffee, gathering the newspaper and other morning routines seemed normal, but last night I had been in another world.
The mind moves at a terrific pace energizing thoughts that make the body follow. The mind will demand the body function until it can not continue. I have slept in a chair too many times from pure exhaustion only to awake after a few hours to new and more startling and fascinating ideas.
If you think you do not get enough sleep, what do you do in your waking hours to take the rest time? If you get too much sleep, will a dreary effort satisfy the need for exploration of new adventures?
I'm going to take a nap.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
It begins with a blessing
and it ends with a curse;
Making life easy,
by making it worse;
My mask is my Master,
The trumpeter weeps,
But his voice is so weak
As he speaks from his sleep, saying
Why, why, why, why are we sleeping!
People are watching,
people who stare;
waiting for something
that's already there.
Tomorrow I'll find it ,
The trumpeter screams,
And remembers he's hungry
And drowns in his dreams, saying
Why, why, why, why are we sleeping!
My head is a nightclub
With glasses and wine;
The customers dancing
Or just making time;
While David is cursing
The customers scream!
Now everyone’s shouting,
"Get out of my dreams!"
('Once I Awakened' section from 'Dr Dream)
Once I awakened, my eyes filled with tears
I had been sleeping for thousands of years
Dreaming a life full of problems and sadness
Endlessly turning in spirals of madness
Where the wind blows
That's where it goes
It follows the song
Like its dream.... singing
So it begins with a blessing
and it ends with a curse;
Making life easy,
by making it worse;
Just turn to your partner and say
How does it seem? He'll look at you and say
Get out of my dream
Why why why are we sleeping
Kevin Ayers 1967.
Friday, March 12, 2010
One of the first things I did to this house last year was to get dead bolt locks. Why?
Am I keeping the world out or keeping myself in?
I've lived her 30 years with 60-year old locks and have never had any problems.
Even had auto theives roaming the yard, but never felt any fear of them entering the house.
No one wanders into my abode and plays with my stuff unless invited.
And my stuff does not wander out.
So why do I need all these locks.
Is it to keep the outside world from viewing my stuff?
The stuff that is our comfort.
The stuff we surround ourselves in to give us a feeling of home.
But when it rains, like tonight, or snows or is dark or scary, we are trapped inside with our stuff.
Does this comfort us, like a soft pillow or warm blanket?
Knowing your stuff is where you left it and is easily attainable by reaching for it, gives one comfort.
Similar to marriage.
And when we go outside, we leave our stuff behind.
Are we less comfortable to be in the wild open spaces without our stuff?
We might even feel free without the burden of our stuff hanging around.
When a loved one departs and you have to go through "their stuff", do you wonder why there is so much "stuff"?
When you do your spring cleaning (yes, it's that time again) and go through the garage and clean out some "stuff", does it make you feel better?
And when you come home to the familiar, does it give you comfort that your "stuff" is still where it is suppose to be.
Don't forget to lock your doors.
Thursday, March 11, 2010