Gregory

We love you brother!

We love you brother!

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sobriety

when you have nothing
you have everything
only you find that out much later
love is a sandwich on the cutting board
or a hot coffee on cold concrete
slipped out his plastic card
and charged his freedom
a poets eyes see’s reflections in the windows
fog on the pond
tenderness in a drive-by shooting

captured in the claw of technology
my emotions carry over the bandwidth
past lonely midnight card games
clenched relationships &
fragile wireless hearts

“ihavent wokeupdrunk in tenYears”
but i remember the vomit stench, bloodand jail cells
like it wuz last night
now i can taste the sunsets and spit out all the
pits
i can see the whispers behind my back
and know just what they
translate
i can touch the moon and bath in its glow
i can hear the music and filter out all the static
i can plant a tree and count its leaves
i can dance
i can live
i can love

neonduskmondaynovember81999ninethirtysixpm

“Does God look down on the boys in the barroom,
Mainly forsaken but surely not judged.
Jacks, kings, and aces, their faces in wine,
Do lord deliver our kind.
From singing for whiskey three strings on the fiddle,
Four on the guitar and a song that I love.
Many’s the night we spent picking and singing,
In hopes it be pleasing both here and above.
Jack’s string fiddle to my sawtooth bow,
Who loves lonlieness loves it alone.
I love the dim lights like some love the dew”
~~~Robert Hunter

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From the dark tunnels of dreams

SLEEP_LOG27
In this dream I was laying on a bed on a Sunday morning in August. I was pretty reflective because I was born exactly 53 years ago. Outside flowers and tomatoes were growing and the grass smelled nice. Remember because this was a dream, I wasn’t upset when I got out of bed and my skin seemed liquid and my hair grew back.
I walked through a dark tunnel for several hours that was really a terrible migraine headache. Sometimes I think I have a daughter (I have a great friend)now that writes fiction in rhymes. I can only see her if she wears purple. She is sitting in front of an old school typewriter from the 1980’s tapping away like crazy.
My other children have left me and are orbiting the earth at a very low altitude. My phone beeps a strange warning tone when they are close by and I go outside and wave frantically at their slow-motion-rocket ship. I think I can see them from a round window on the side of the ship but they look like they are in a fishbowl.
When I finally emerge from the migraine tunnel, it is like I am reborn. I am so happy the pain is over that I sign on FaceBook and “like” everything I see. (even though yesterday, I hated it!)
In my fresh new layers of skin I walk into a bubbly room and find boxes and boxes stacked up filled with photos. This makes me very happy but my smile needs support braces. My hair is so long I have to make a ponytail with a rubber band.foreveryoung
Many of the photos are black and white’s of the mighty ten. I scan a couple of them in and try to “fix” them in Photoshop but I can’t. Whatever I try to do digitally is met by an error message. This I don’t understand and becomes a nightmare in the dream. It is like running in slow motion from a very fast monster.
There are no photos of our family all together at once. Zero. I notice there is a total family shot from 1912 of our great grandfathers family all together. There is nothing of our mom and dad and all ten children at the same time. I search through every box and…..nothing. We missed that opportunity somewhere along the way. We were all so very busy and dad was always working that we never found time to get all together and take a photo. Maybe later, in heaven.

The Hartmann's. Jersey City NJ.

The Hartmann’s. Jersey City NJ.

I wish we weren’t adults anymore. We should be in pajamas sitting around the gold couch on the gold shag carpet goofing off. Nobody is arguing about anything. Nobody is hanging up on anybody. Money doesn’t matter. Nobody is addicted. Nobody is sick. Nobody is dead. “Gilligans Island” is on TV. Chocolate milk Boscoe and Marshmallow Fluff sandwiches. Laughing. And everyone is there. Everyone. Aunt Gerry suddenly walks in and she is holding a Kodak Instamatic She smiles and says ; “Let me take a photo of this lovely family”
KodakInstamatic1001
blog_text

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Letter to Glenn

When time just drags

When time just drags


Come back to us you crazy fool!

Come back to us you crazy fool!

Dear brother Glenn we miss you and love you. I’m wandering a field of dizzy dreams called earth. Come back you damn fool. Where ever this gripping addiction has taken you. Back from the depths of deadness. YOU and your damn nine life’s. (like a cat) This isn’t you brother!!! You’re better than this. We all are. Your consumption of gallons of pickle juice as a child. Hanging with no shirt on our white fence singing Petula Clarks “Downtown” And older you became a man. Your good cooking. Your hard working ethic. Min Goldblatt hero. Good father. You took me to my first AA meeting! You dragged me out of a no where job and got me a job with benefits. You fixed my chipped front teeth. We went on adventures together into the trees off the railroad tracks. Remember crossing the train trestle and hearing the NJ turnpike roaring below…??? A river of cars and semi-trucks downshifting. All the girls that chased you and made me so jealous. You will always have life by the balls. Escaping everything that comes your way except this powerful demon that holds your heart and soul hostage. Oh brother, where art thou?!!

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Movie Still #4 from Home Movies

Times were good!

Times were good!


Yeah, back to that home movie. 3 min and 24 seconds into it. My favorite part.

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Just over the bridge…

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

Time moves in one direction, memory in another.

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low tide

A wooden house in eastern Europe. Elm trees. Low hills. My walking stick. “Let me sketch you.” Set yourself free. Charcoal shadows and hollow air. The earth sings goodbye to another day. Brisk and fresh. Steam and mist. There is no script. A car radio bleats the blues….my minds not right….my sideburns are lopsided…my testicles are hanging lower than usual. The moon is a boomerang and at low tide you can smell dead sponge and rotten crab meat. From the bridge we looked down and saw huge fish swimming, a broken dock and the cafe lights where we had lunch. A salad with walnuts and fresh fruit. A glass of bubbled water from another country. Down at the waters edge, the crowds filled the streets and bikers had an excuse to ride in the orange hue dusk. We will grow old. Read books on a porch. Wait for visits from children. And their children. Fade into the colors of the trees. Watch the shadows move across the wood and when the noiseless winds come, I will still hold you and kiss you.
The End.

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the legend of nothing

Because he was never found
they say he drove away from it all
started
A new life

He wishes(again) for the soft blueglow
of his computer and late night
ramblings of
poetry
i m a g i nation

wet stinking swamp seeping
into his sinking car) cut off
by a drunk maybe
side road waltz on easy street
the muddy bottom
his tomb forever

His last message
inscribed digitally (forever)
‘If you don’t see me today
… i’ll see you in my dreams .”
and they cleaned his room out
and sold the computer.

neondusktuesdayfebruary132001708pm
“No answer is also an answer.”
-Danish proverb

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Hartmann – Online Family Tree‏

Two years ago I found our very distant cousin Caleb from Canada. Caleb has spent a lot of hard work and time constructing this on-line family tree. I am very grateful for our cousin for this tree goes back centuries in time. On first click the Family Tree seems trivial but CLICK AROUND – you will be amazed at your absolutely incredible heritage! There is a row of links across the top. They say Index | Descendancy | Register | Pedigree etc. I would suggest clicking on these.

stripe

-HARTMANN ONLINE FAMILY TREE- Click here to discover!

stripe
Some notes from Caleb: “Any mistakes in the gedcom online can be fixed and updated later. I do not post info on living people on there to protect peoples identity.
My mom was Leatrice Robarge, she was the daughter of Frank Robarge and Margaret Hartman, they are on the online gedcom too. Tillies line is the one the Vanduzers are from. The Vanduzer’s and my mom put the Hartmann Book together with info they had on the family and stories from my grandmother Margaret, back in the 1980’s. I was given my copy as a child. I have held onto it ever since. It covers a lot of Margarets siblings and what life was like back then in New Jersey and New York. In the book it describes Poppa (Charles Richard Hartmann or Dick) passing away, and Momma (Clara). It describes the other hartmans too and the siblings of Poppa helping with the printing and music business.”

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Time traveling DOES exsist.

hold still now, smile! +click+

hold still now, smile! +click+


When I first saw this photo, given to me by our cousin Robert (Jaybird) I was taken back. A very rare shot of our young family with our uncle Jay. The smiles and expressions are priceless BUT damn, who took this photo? Who cut off Bernadette? The photo is ruined!!!
But it’s not.
The photo exists and that’s good enough. I can not condemn the photographer for at least trying. In this case my assumption is that Aunt Gerry (Uncle Jays wife) took the photo. I have criticized her in the past for taking blurry photos but here’s the thing: Gerry was a picture-taker. If we didn’t have the picture taker…we wouldn’t have pictures. There is always that one or few in a family that always took the photo. They always tried to get everybody together for a photo. People hate when it’s picture time. The family picture-taker has to fight that. The family picture-taker has to coral as many people as they can in a short amount of time and take the photo. Taking photographs can be hard work but somebody has to do it. The picture taker is usually the unsung hero. In some cases a “timer” on the camera will get everybody in the shot but in most cases planning photographs can be very difficult. Sometimes (ok, all the time) when I look at old family photos I wonder out loud, “Who took this photo?”
Thank God for these people. They cared. They tried. In the back of their minds, “these people” knew that moments in life don’t last forever. People don’t last forever. If you grab a micro-second of life on film and have it forever that is PRICELESS. Most people don’t realize that. Looking at a photo that is now over thirty years old will make you realize it NOW but not at that time….most people don’t give a crap.
Gerry was very very special like that. She cared about keeping the family torch lit! Her name is on the “credits” page of the (see last Blog post) Family Memories. She has “piles” of family photo albums. (I know because I saw them when I went to Las Vegas right after she passed away) Not only does she have the photos but they are very well taken care of and arranged. If she had the negative, she kept it taped to the back of the original photograph!!

Joan Gill Hartman, Barb Hartman, were all very good early day picture takers.
How do we know who the picture takers were? I had a box of photos from when my boys were growing up. They are currently being held captive somewhere in Central Jersey. My kids were looking thru them and they happened to ask me: “Where were you in all these photos dad?” Well, my boys, I was the one taking the photo!
I was the picture-taker.

My Current Status: 7/13/13 1:52AM- Some people expect a lot out of me, I can change that. My Current Statement: Constantly being tuned into the alternate digital universe can create a false sense of urgency and dominate your mental freedom. My random Memory: One day I was out on the front porch with Brenda my sister and something stupid happened and I got so mad at her that I hit her on the side of the head with a huge 6 volt lantern battery. She was bleeding and crying and ran inside the house. I had forgotten all about this. I mean totally. Like blocked it out of my memory. Many many years later when I took her to a Giants football game and we were tailgating out in the parking lot she reminded me of it. At first I was shocked and sad and guilty. She forgave me at that moment. Days later and up to today, I think about how powerful my brain was to block something that traumatic in my memory.

I know what I'm gonna do tomorrow, and the next day, and the next year, and the year after that.

I know what I’m gonna do tomorrow, and the next day, and the next year, and the year after that.

The photography art medium has been changing at a crazy pace in the last 15 years or so. I remember film. The cost. The limits. The wait. No redo’s. Today, everyone has a camera in their pockets or there could be one watching you. Our world has become image saturated. If you go to google images and type in sunsets you will get 33,800,000 matches in just 0.19 seconds.
Surveillance cameras capture the image of an average city dweller 300 times a day.
Desk top publishing and photo editing software is at the fingertips of anyone that owns a computer. Musically it’s the same thing. It’s become a digital overflow of digital compositions. Some bands that have actually gotten their start in the oil stained garage floors of a real garage are being replaced by “Garage Band” on the Mac.
There are now fewer limits to express yourself and you can show yourself off to the entire planet earth!

Apparently the actual living of our lives doesn’t seem so “wonderful” sometimes. In one of the top ten movies of all time “It’s a Wonderful Life” the hero, George Baily leads just an ordinary life. Yet he is the seeker of a wild exciting life and even desires to attend college for which he is denied. He ends up living a mundane and simple life. It takes an angel from heaven to open his eyes to the fact that his life truly is extraordinarily meaningful and impactful. (impactful is not a word but I like it)

Thank you for all your uploads! Thousand upon thousands. I have downloaded and opened your photos for the past four years. Thousands of RGB memories. Miles and miles of canvas. I haven’t become desensitized by your weddings, sunsets, celebrations, family portraits, pets, and children. Because of YOU, I have seen the amazing moutains, forests, oceans and cities of the world! I have sat in my windowless Macintosh corner of the world and seen the world, thanks to you. Still, after all this time your photos MOVE me, make me LAUGH, give me goosebumps, and sometimes bring a tear to the corner of my eye.
Like George Bailey I yearn to travel. Crave excitement. Unexpected paths, twist and turns. I know there is only one thing better than your photo. The print is beautiful on canvas but in all cases of printed images-“You really had to be there!”

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