close up photo of tree trunk in forest
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I place my hand upon the trunk
run my fingers along
so I might read a story
above under thumb
the bumps
of history
I do not remember
how long since I lost my worldly sight
for I am the known wise man
and those seek me out

but for that which wisdom I have gained
was paid for with which I left behind
so perhaps that is my lesson
to teach those still
with vision

notes…  written back in June, revised just now, one of those that sprang from a single thought, me just running my hand down a tree trunk, when I was walking my dog, and thinking what so many have thought, what has this tree seen ? and could I ever tap into that knowledge ? and if I could…


Your consciousness, forever, just 9 easy payments of $19.95, act now and we’ll double the offer!

black and blue electronic tools on green circuit board
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welcome, dear traveler, to a not so distant year, let’s be arbitrary, since I can’t be proven wrong (unless Doc Brown materializes somehow), let’s say 2050 (closer than you may think in a blink), given the commercialization of space what will be the cost of freight ? the freight of… you? firstly there will be your DNA and maybe a bio page or two (perhaps some personal memento or two), shot out into the cosmos like so much a life(less) raft into an ocean vast(er) than we know, imagine your DNA blasted off into the cosmos and found in four million or 40 million years from now, and the technology exists to make a new you, beats the alternative, as they say, but we know people will not stop there, our DNA will be littering the universe I bet (perhaps that is how we got here on Earth in the first place in some form), like all things our appetites grow and the quest for the ever-life will vex all generations forward as it has all those past, a question of the matter becomes a matter of when in terms of mapping out the electrical patterns of our brains, especially with quantum computing flying ahead at such a breakneck pace, so questions about humanity will ultimately rise,  will humans be humans without the physical interface?

phases of the moon
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Non physical consciousness will allow us to venture into all manners of space (and the very depths of our own planet, imagine a vacation into an actual volcano, why not? or a little skinny dip in the mariana trench),  population control will not be an issue per se in this maybe brave new world, your apartment will be your location on a memory chip, your choice of neighborhood might depend on how close you are to one of the core CPUs or a power supply nexus, at that point will we have evolved into AI, of ourselves? will hacking become a form of murder? even if you are just turning off a switch or pulling a plug, and who is left in charge, on the outside, the “fleshers”? the “living”, the “pre-comp”s  as it were…  What will social interaction be like when you have no form, will avatars be your body?  and gender? there will not be any, or well, it won’t be needed, and would people choose to “die” early to transfer into the compu-realm, what if your soulmate dies, do you follow?  Will there be people who fall in love with someone who has been “alive” for 400 years and decide to “transmute” into the digital? I really wonder how far away we are from such things, I bet we are much closer than we think…

and the whole crux of this thought was cheesy infomercials, because even something lofty will eventually be sold for “X” number of installments @ $19.95 (call now, the first 100 callers get a free slap chop and shamwow millennium edition)… but no one touches the king

notes… yeah, I think about a mash up of stuff all the time, maybe my day consists of classical poetry, string theory and some quantum mechanics…. man can not live on verse alone.. that’s a pretty good tag line… maybe I could use that on a blog or something… hmmm…

music, going cosmic ambient because that is what fits….

>>>> Stellardrone – Invent the Universe

as we are inventing it right now as we go… thanks for the read, pull up a chair and check out all the other jazz I am up to

Thoughts from the Porch (fluke edition)…

red yellow and black bouy on body of water during daytime
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I was perusing the fish section of my local Wegman’s supermarket today, and they had Fluke, now Fluke is often referred to as “summer flounder” and is a very east coast thing, especially this time of year as they migrate close to shore abandoning their deep ocean homes, because like everything in jersey, it flocks to the shore in the summer, even the damn fish… I haven’t seen Fluke in a while, maybe I wasn’t quite looking, or maybe happening upon it today was just a fluke… they remind me of summer, day boating, or as we more common in these parts referred to them as “party boats”, you can do the math, but suffice it to say they were quite lax on allowing libations as stowaways, hell, you could not even spell “fishing charter” without ‘beer’, I must say the night boat trips were rather interesting, so yeah, I used to fish for Fluke as a kid, one of those very summer memories even though you can fish for them year round surely, I recall the party boats were with friends, but I remember the times with my dad more vividly, on my uncle’s boat, I don’t even recall how old I was, but the whole routine, getting on the boat not falling in, untying the ropes and such, the shiny white surfaces, chugging out slowly out of the marina, stopping at the gas station dock for fuel, food and bait-fish, eventually picking up a little speed out of the harbor, passing sandy hook, then skipping along the water until whatever destination was chosen was met, casting out our lines, catching mostly sea robins, and the occasional fluke, large enough to keep and then consume, that feeling when as the smallest person on board and you catch the catch of the day, the biggest fish, not often but sometimes, following the seagulls around as they spot schools, casting out to catch some blues among the frenzy, spending the whole day on the water, hours not mattering, starting at sunrise and finishing near sunset, all in a blink, I so romanticize it now, forgetting the work, getting up before dawn (ahem, not my specialty, ever), scrubbing everything down on the boat, the slime of the fish on your hands, the gunk on your shirt and shorts, that time my brother was unloading the catch and picked up my fish (the champ, the trophy of the day) and dropped it… back into the water, right by the dock, my heart swam away with the fish I lost, the rank old dead fish odor of the fillet station on the dock, the errant old scales all about like shiny little plates on a tangled fishing line wind chime, gutting the fish, evisceration of organs, the seagulls and shore birds in a veritable orgy of gore that they found so tasty as we threw the scraps and bits into the water next to the moored boat, and then becoming the bearer of a proud ziploc of perfect triangles of fish, to be had later as a reward or frozen – never seen from again… but my immediate recollection was all the positive things, and maybe just maybe that should be my focus when experiencing life, as it seems that is what we most remember anyway, there must be a reason for this, some biological thing I suppose, I doubt that it is just… a fluke…

So we are mostly water… so I am told…

abstract art artistic autumn
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

bodies of water
so we are
holding our ocean within,
internal gravity
we capture moisture
from the outer-world,
internal irrigation
so our inner fauna
can stave off extinction
all that flows in our rivers and channels
not just rafts of cells
or the pulse of marrow
but bolts of electric information
memories, thoughts
joys, pain
the self,
the self contained
eco system one
the only ocean
we are masters of
and yet still do not know
nor have mapped
all the depths
and fathoms
of our own.

music ? as usual my parade of under rated bands as I scream their names in the blog wind…

>>>>> Mindfunk – Wierd Water

notes…. wrote this back in July (with a couple of tweaks tonight), man that feels like a long time ago… the summer is nearing an end, I feel like I missed something, but I do love the fall, not like face planting, I mean the season in general, it is when I vacation, when people go back to school I usually shoot off to somewhere for a couple of weeks… tomorrow? off to dig for fossils here in new jersey, yes, I typed that right… if all goes well I might report, and you can retort, or be a sport… and leave me a like, a comment, a question, a new and interesting way to deal with super hot chiles… I could write a blog on just that, but that would not be my voice alone, so I will let others handle that… but damn I love hot chiles….

Thoughts from the porch… (The carousel of life)

carousel with lights
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Being at a family gathering can give you interesting perspectives, maybe it is lost on some, perhaps on the young, on those who don’t step back and look at the whole, but I suppose that is what makes me who I am, an observer, sometimes on the outside, the carousel of life, but the more I thought, the more I observed, “carousel” is a terrible word, and an even worse analogy, it sounds lofty and poetic but is not true, a carousel, well, by it’s very nature people hop on and off, riding fake fabled beasts, everything is decoration and pomp, lighting and circumstance, you always arrive from where you came, that is not life indeed, as un-glorious as it may seem, life is more like a conveyor belt powered by unrelenting time, not quite unlike that famous lucille ball clip, but perhaps more subtle, just in one glance I am looking at the end of the belt and near to the beginning, those starting their lives off, moving into family mode, those watching their grandchildren blossom into adulthood, those nearing the end and faculties fade and old tried stories remain and remind of days long gone by, the passage of time, the belt just moves along, never stopping, always forward, there is no fight to be won, just enjoy the ride…

turned on white light bulbs
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I wonder about my place on the belt as well, somewhere in the middle of all this, but my experience is vastly different, I suppose I am on a different route, same belt, more doubt, wondering if I could have or should have done things differently, of course this is feeble distraction and not worth my time, but I can not say I do not indulge in the delusion of that particular rabbit hole, the ‘what ifs’ bear intoxication, as dreams mainline into my veins, here, at a summer night, one block off the ocean, the breeze coming in, a cover band of covers I don’t recognize, probably bon jovi and springsteen as is the custom here in my native rock, I notice the air has condensed on the banisters of the deck, I look around and realize I am reading a book, a story, an amstel in my hand, drips condensation down on to my leg, I wonder if they can read what I am thinking, or what they think of me, families are a strange thing, people you know your whole life but at times more mysterious than friends, years pass and things seem the same, the only gauge is hair, lack thereof, and kids, who are no longer kids, I must admit I passed a grin, even if none of this is for me, at least for now, probably never, but there is joy in others, even if we are on a factory floor, riding a conveyor belt to an inevitable end… maybe the best if this is a carousel, if I choose to look at the draw, the charm, the joy, the smiles, on a summer night, by the beach, hearing stories of childhood from eighty year olds, why not… circle around again and enjoy it all… again…

aerial photography of houses
Photo by Ben Baker on Pexels.com

prologue, a travel story of phobias and foibles
I was off last weekend so trying to snag two saturdays in a row would not be feasible with work (or fair to my fellow workers, I have this strange work ethic thing happening), but I did manage to leave the office @ 3:30 pm which seemed reasonable to get somewhere by 5:00 pm in a state where you can pretty much drive anywhere in 2 hours (give or take), and this was not (well should not have been) a 2 hour drive, certainly a sparkling day, not too humid, and I am travelling to the shore… so expectations are a damn nice ride, if I can get there, ah, the garden state parkway, in summer, living up to the “park” portion that is for sure, I was colored surprised figuring if you want to get to the shore, you leave friday, or early saturday, why oh why would saturday later afternoon be a traffic magnet, but I suppose the universe was conspiring against me, although I should really just relax a bit, this is a family gathering, not a court appearance, so, I tried to convince myself of that, although I don’t like to be late, I nod to myself to accept my fate (well, OK I think I went about 82% and held onto the rest anxiousness, c’mon that is progress), so, I slog through some traffic, mainly just frustrating, as there seems to be no rhyme or reason to the flow, or lack thereof, stopping, starting, darting, speeding up for four miles to come to a complete stop, the relentless tease of release which does not come until I am well south of edison, around the arts center, at least there was no concert tonight, time is ticking, the hour of the party is approaching, I have to stop myself from thinking, just accept being late, just a margin of how late, half an hour, seems reasonable, but 42 minutes? for some reason that makes me feel like a scoundrel, ah, turn up the tunes, you live in a world with thousands of choices within reach, jam out for a bit, for some reason, and I do not know why, “monmouth beach” sounds so much closer in my mind than it actually is, am I conflating “monmouth” as an area, or the college? this is almost a foreign area to me, I have been every place in and around it, all the roads, 35, 36, all of it so well traveled in my travels, but never right HERE, strange, how could I miss out on something as great as “seven bridges road” as you crest and fall like slow waves up and over gorgeous views, water is more of a power broker here than land, it shapes everything in your eye, surrounding, people hiking with fishing poles, I’m jealous, but I have somewhere to be, even if late, my GPS glares at me screaming 5:42 arrival – no matter how fast I seem to go, I think I earned back a minute, damn these things for being so damn accurate, as the miles dwindle, the sky in the coming not so distant distance is beginning to resemble smoke, so of course your mind starts to wander to wonder? is that smoke ? or is that fog? well, I am travelling right in that direction so I suppose I will find out, and the closer I get to my destination (always a bit of trepidation to new locations is creeping in), the closer I get the sun is more obscured, it is not cloudy for sure, just this amorphous fog that seems to have dark streaks, one thing about the shore, you know you are there when every street seems to have a purposeful name… “seaview avenue”, “ocean avenue”, “atlantic avenue”, “dave don’t turn here blvd”, ok, I made the last one up… so here I am tooling about this town I know nothing about, a strange mix of old style beach houses, huge porches, decks, those awnings that remind me of the beach as a kid in deal and yet also italian restaurants, and then there is some other gaudy mansions, roman columns, some other homes that look like an architect could not resist bucking what a beach house should look like, I am probably rubber necking, I try and keep my eye on the prize and be aware of cars behind me, but this is a nice town, it is all new and yet familiar to my jersey DNA, I make a turn, I think I’m here, on the street at least, frantically looking for the number 10, making sure I am not causing a traffic dust up, that must be it, over there, on my left, catering truck check, OK, first mission accomplished, time to park, oh, there’s my brother’s car, definitely got the right place, damn, was that a space in front of him? hard to tell, there is yellow curbs and some curbs kind of colored with rust that in a flash throw me off, so I go to the next block… can I fit there? I have a perception problem, I always over estimate the size of my car, which makes parking a loving endeavor or I drive around needlessly for too ling, so I begin to parallel park, damn, awful angle, and I knew it pulling in, a quick look, eh, no one saw me as I now micro correct my parking job back, turn, forward, back, curb, forward, turn, turn, back, no curb, whew, back, back, park and I’m in, so I grab my offering and saunter over to the house, up the driveway, “hey dave”, it’s my brother, in the garage, I assume up to no good, but no, he was helping his beau prepare a cake in the form of a truck, like one of those cakes you see on TV that looks more like a toy than chow, but it was apparently a rice krispies cake, pretty neat I must say, although I hate sweets, looking more forward to the clams and such, I’m a mollusk freak in that way, so all my fears now allayed, I stroll to the back of the place, noting all the house features, the smell of the ocean is faint at the moment, and the fog? yes, I almost forgot about the fog, since I smell no smoke, this must be fog that decided to join us from over the water, no matter, no matter at all…

notes… I wrote this all in one form, my hybrid of prose and poetry or just what I do…. writing is cathartic, not always, but sometimes, it allows me to question everything, mostly me… I hope you agree, and I suppose if you got this far, you got something out of it, only one person other than myself, that is always my goal, two is a win, four is more, but one is just as good… all thoughts, comments, likes, re-posts and whatever… are all appreciated, thanks. I do this to throw myself out into the world, maybe there are simpaticos out there…. maybe not, but I have to do what I am made to do….

oh, and by the way this is part of my porch series, should I be remiss and not link to that ongoing thing…

Observational poetry…

Sometimes I see something and it is just a trigger for some lines, this would be one of those times, a simple thought, just spilled out of my gut, onto this page, how um, romantic, if not gross… but seriously this was just inspiration from a frame, some old wooden power lines stretched across the vast salt marshes of southern new jersey… which made me write this…

transmission tower in desert
Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

wooden power lines
make me think of the plains
and open spaces
stretching prairies
golden rolling fields
wide winding roads
that inevitably lead
to the feet of mountains
and the gateway of the west

notes… tonight I was at my cousin’s house, one block from the beach in Monmouth Beach NJ…  seemingly I was watching a life I left, or was supposed to have, it isn’t that I am unhappy, but it is strange to observe the changing of generations, the “kids” I knew are now all young 20 something party animals, my cool cousins are now almost the older generation, my uncles and aunts are all 80 plus… life is strange, I am glad to observe it, I must have looked like a weirdo to them, just kind of kicking back and taking it all in, a watcher, no need to fit in, comfortable in my own skin but content to stand by myself, I must admit that I thought about her… how she would have been right next to me and I would have brought the bell to the ball in my mind and heart, I would gladly have had the most beautiful girl in the room, because she always was, to me, but I am happy for the others, my brother who is on wife three, my cousin from philly who has gotten back with a great guy (as far as I could always tell, and I am a good judge of character), a cousin with a new beau, her older sister with the same old who seems a new man when wall street leads to ocean views, and my uncle who’s birthday this was all for, let me be that when I am 80 and I will claim victory, but to look out, and see three generations of your family…. that must be something, I saw it, but I am not of it… but somehow I do embrace it even if I feel outside it at times…

Flooded: scribbling(s) from an ark…

ship rope dock cargo
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‘is this thing on? check, check, so this guy is gathering animals 2×2, stop me if you’ve heard this one, I’ll be here all month, try the unleavened bread’

this doesn’t seem so bad

I am starting to regret flipping a coin over crocodiles and unicorns… should have went with -rock -parchment -cutting tool…

note to self: lions and sea lions are not related, begrudgingly I had to admit the wife was right about sea horses and sea cows as well…

renovation note: moving hen house across the ark away from the fox hole

note to self: next time make more room for the porcupines

the llamas (well, specifically Lorenzo) spit at my wife, I think she saw me laugh, but I DID warn her about those darn things… and besides, it was hilarious…

I was doing roll call today and came across a couple of “duck-weasels”, sure, the placard says ‘platypus’ (whatever the hell that is), I swear sometimes I think god is just messing with me

man! hippos are hungry

trying to dry laundry in almost never ending rain really sucks…

sheesh, of all the things I brought two of, I’m glad I only brought one wife…

sleeping in the sheep’s quarter’s tonight, note to self: put away diary where wife can not read it

is now a bad time to mention I might be slightly claustrophobic? I could sure use that water to wine trick right now…

I wish sushi had been invented… and I can’t even get a decent cigar in this joint…

Horses and elephants??… I really should have thought this out better from a maintenance perspective…

things must be getting to me, I had a dream about pandas riding zebras playing polo… and polo hasn’t even been invented yet…

I envy bears, they can sleep through anything

note to self: skunks do not like surprises

how did I miscount the rabbits? there has to be a dozen of them now… addendum: boa constrictor food problem solved

I came up with a song to pass the time: “100 bottles of shekar on the wall, 100 bottles of shekar, take one down, pass it around, 99 bottles of shekar on the wall”, something seems a little off, I’ll work on it…

geese and ducks are like in-laws… I’ll leave that up for individual interpretation… I love my in-laws, I really do, of course they were drowned with everyone else, hey, who am I to question god’s judgement (chuckle)…

I keep telling the pigeons to stay off the sloths but they can’t help themselves I guess, old habits die hard…

the wife is no longer amused by my weather forecasts…

I have to tell ya, those kangaroo pouches come in handy when doing repairs, no more trunnels rolling around the old deck, no sir!

skinks are not “snakes with jazz hands”… geez, some creatures are so persnickety… you make one off handed comment and skinks make a stink about it for days…

I really should have built a bowling alley on this thing… charades just don’t cut it anymore… and the kids memorized all the trivial pursuit questions (old testament edition (c) )

note to future people, do not make a movie where the world is all water, just trust me on this one

everyone’s a critic… why didn’t you build this? why didn’t you build that? what? like I went to school for this? sheesh, damn back boat captains… let’s see you build an ark with no union labor…

well, there goes that experiment, pigs can not fly, I guess I should try a raven or a dove or something, eh, maybe tomorrow, I don’t want to be late for date night, the wife is already steamed at me, something about the seat being up or whatever…

notes… just some random silliness at what Noah’s diary might look like, well… sort of…