Archive for November, 2011

Day 8

Fall's last stand. Buckle in for another long Winter of global warming.


Hey, yeah. I owned a house once. I paid a mortgage, property taxes, and called Home Depot my second place to live. I watched that house being built. It was brand new. Basement, three bedrooms, cathedral ceiling, deck, fireplace, almost an acre of green grass, gardens, swings in the back and even a sprinkler system.
Watching that thing go up was, what I remember, the most exciting time of my life.
Then, within one year, had a baby and bought a new car. I worked my ass off as a Teamster in a refrigerated warehouse. I remember coming home one late Summer evening and the sun was an orange explosion sinking into the scrub pines of the cul de sac. I had the smell of a new car, walked past my beautiful green grass and up the perfect concrete driveway. When I walked in the house, I could smell the brand new home and the brand new baby. Beautiful smells, by the way.
I HAD MY OWN PLACE and I just fell in love with that feeling. I worked really hard, never turned down a minuet of overtime, worked nights, weekends and split weeks, never took days off so I could get paid for them at the end of the year and that made the FEELING of OWNING my own HOUSE the best feeling I ever had in my life. Work hard and you shall be rewarded. If not today then maybe 20 years from now. Be true to yourself, brush your teeth twice a day, build a house with blood sweat and tears and then maybe one day it will disappear like sawdust on a windy day -like it did for me.

I can still smell you.

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Day 7

when i first pulled up
the sign in front of the house when i first saw it i
fucking threw up in the driveway the first time”for
sale-take a virtual tour”and the rain washed itaway/
that is what they tell me it says anyway
only when i read it it says “THE MAN OF THIS
HOUSE IS A LOSER”
and fucking aunt amiee laughing at the photos on the
internet Like she was laughing at me
and the neighbors drive by real slow in their brand
new trucks and cars…their new additions on their
homes

flowers that i planted ten years ago starting to pop
up
spring is here already?
and so much i wanted to tewll you
so damn much
just washeD away;like my throwup

neonduskmondayapril1520021027pm
“You have no idea what a poor opinion
I have of myself, and how little I deserve it.”
-william gilbert

Free Fall

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Day 6

The great pumpkin and friends.

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In heaven, men can smoke cigars and watch football.

Once a long time ago in the 1960’s when things were different. Friendships and families were etched in real life, and not “on-line”. Face to face with booze, cards, cigars, cheap bars, real talk, real people and you couldn’t hide behind a monitor and a mouse. The TV broke down all the time because it had picture tubes in it. Men watched the NFL because it was a great game and not a big business nursing over-paid egos. There were REAL heros on the REAL grass playing half back for half ass salaries. There were heros circling the earth in tin cans and The Daily News had “all the news that’s fit to print” Those were the days. Lucky Filter commercials on the tube while sipping Schaffer beer…..and me and my cousins were around to remember this. To witness the love and togetherness of two families.
Since my reunion with Jaybird my memories have broken open and the things that I thought I remembered were only the tip of the iceburg. That as a very little boy I went around the living room while Jay and George drank beer from cans (that you had to open with a can opener) and I was “allowed” to take sips. And I loved it, cause it made me feel all warm and fuzzy and it had nothing to do with Y.A. Tittle throwing touchdowns against the Cleveland Browns on a mud field covered in straw.
Jay was a very tall man with a pom pom and a military uniform. His laugh was contagious and his smile endless. He loved my father and my father loved him. They journeyed into the Bronx New York together to watch The New York Football Giants play in a baseball stadium. They drank beer and laughed and celebrated life like two happily married men with children should. The economy was good, The Beatles were on Ed Sullivan and the Worlds Fair (the most famous EVER) was alive and well and only a stones throw from NJ. Gas was cheap and driving to and fro even on school and work nights was easy.
Brother-in-laws that cared for and took time to see each other whenever they could. They created a pact whether they knew it or not. That life is way too short to fight or cry or ignore. Life was good. But then like everything that is supposed to last forever……it changed. The endless happy visits to military bases suddenly cut short because fate had other plans.

Jaybird and Butch. Las Vegas November 2011. George Sr. and Jay Sr are smiling from the eerie glow of the night sky.


Turns out George Sr. died rather mysteriously and quickly and Jay followed right behind him about a year later. They left a legacy of fourteen children and two totally confused and frightened wives.
They missed everything that life had to offer after that. The cousins fell between three thousand miles and over thirty years of weddings, funerals, grandchildren, Super Bowls, vacations, sunsets, new cars, sickness, disappointment, happiness, technology, and all the extreme highs and lows that life can bring.
And one windy Fall night on the roof of a Parking lot, in the depths of Sin City’s neon glow, “The pact” was renewed. And whether they knew it or not…it all came together again….survivors, dreamers and lovers. The first time he grabbed me and hugged me…it actually shocked me(it wasn’t in front of a pool)….and when I asked him about that hug he said, “It’s just the type of person I am.”

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Day 5

Basements have always haunted me.

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Day 4

Late. It took me four days to blow it.
Missing deadlines? Part of my life.
It is these dead gray sky days on the doorsteps of Winter that just depresses the hell out of me. I don’t want to be a manager. I don’t even want to be a grown-up. I hate Christmas because my job smothers the whole bell ringing season into a blurr of deadlines and fear. I want to be carefree again. A kid. A little boy. Laying on the top bed of the bunk bed and counting down the days until Christmas with my brother Greg.
GREG WHERE ARE YOU???
I miss you brother. I love you brother. I realize so many little stupid things now. The innocence of being a child. Under the shadows of our mothers and fathers, aunts and uncles, Grandfathers, Grandmothers…they are all almost dead. Everyone. Dead.
Once upon a time life would go on forever and our parents would always be there. But not here. Not anymore. Maybe that is in heaven.

Hello Uncle Billy??? Hello?? Why am I so afraid to call you?? What was my dad like as a little kid? Were you guys close? What about pop? Did he speak German to you? Hello??? Hello??


Hush a bye baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

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Day 3

lunch time on the stretcher table

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Day two.

In a desperate plunge for the camera from my laptop bag after realizing that day two was running low, I zeroed in at anything hoping for some art. In route 46 north Jersey traffic jam, and perhaps moving the camera on purpose, I snapped at least twenty shots in the dark out the front windshield. This is the one I picked for day two.
Last night on a warm couch, instead of Everybody Loves Raymond, I ended up watching NOVA. It was about something that I could never even to begin to understand: Quantum Physics.
The show tried really hard and succeeded, (at least I thought) in explaing something so complicated as “how an atom works” Wow. The graphics they were using gave me inspiration for day twos photo:

My ride home in traffic as explained in the Quantum Physics theory.


Next Episode:-Drinking out of a colored tin cup in Las Vegas.-

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Photo-a-day for ten days

Not necessarily a desperate attempt at unblocking a creative block but more like an exercise in journalism and awareness. On the edge of losing my soul to the Christmas rush in my work. I need to step away from stress, deadlines and creative destruction. The cancer of repetitive production work. All families start to look the same. Dogs and cats are just dogs and cats. Every sunset is totally the same. Once lost in a movie, that I had to end. It was going on too long. I didn’t know how to end it. I loved it once. But now that I did all the cooking, I wasn’t hungry for it anymore. I missed my blog. Short projects. Different themes. Fresh ideas. Return to the journey. So here is my project. Ten photos in ten days. Simple and easy? Hardly. There are no excuses here. I have to do it. I have to think. I have to seek. I have to be alert. I have to share.

...just a room that everybody loves....


How can one not be inspired in this wonderful room. Is it the creaky floors? The feeling that maybe, beyond that old door, there may a pasture filled with grazing hungry cows? Maybe it is the energy in the lighting…so perfectly subtle and clean. The books of art on the book shelves? The endless cans filled with brushes and colored pencils. The miniature easels on the smooth white tables. The electrical charge of creative energy that one feels…the power to create…to paint…to draw..to write even. Only real passion for art can be harvested at the art house.

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