savannah's

I expect this to need fleshing out after this wee entry.
So I ask my brother J. where Savanna's is, Alabama or Mississippi? Without hesitation he says Alabama, which by the way is what I think.

Days later he is relating some of the story connected and says "where was that? Alabama or Mississippi?" as if we didn't just go through that. I guess being a DiCara and past 60 merits some allowances.

Savanna was a rotund black Southern woman with a small eatery a 1/4 mile from a ferry landing on the East side of a river. Not much else nearby. A large open dinning area where you could see what was going on in the kitchen area; a jukebox and a 9 year old daughter helping out. No menu, just whatever was being cooked that day, all you wanted for a reasonable if not cheap price. Catfish, fried yardbird or pork chops, a mess of greens, black-eyed peas, hush puppies etc. good eats. Since when we descend on the place the food demand goes up pretty severely we would spend a pretty long time before completing dinner.

Like any band of misfits who are used to working and playing hard we took full advantage of the jukebox and consumed mass quantities. There was one visit where you could hear the young miss say "Mama, is all white folks that crazy?" I sure don't remember what Savannah answered, I think it was a laugh and a shushhh maybe accompanied by a little swat. But I'm sure she probably answered differently after we left. She sure treated us well and we tried to do the same. I sure could go for some sweet potato pie right now.

more notes after vacation

I had a few more little issues with my travel, like a broken jar of honey in my luggage. But I also got a few more hoedad stories with J.. I miss the whole social dynamic of being in the bosom, if it weren't for the wintertime I would move back. It was not easy to see the declining parental units as the toll gate of time charges another bit of life.

First day back in the mines was not too bad, but, the uncertainty continuum takes the opacity out of the pathway. Certitude has little place and my grip has a tenuous purchase.

home again, home again

There was a bad looking two-car accident on I-4 to welcome me home. It made the return at least 45 min. longer than usual. Fire engines, Fire Rescue, Sheriff's, State Police and a helicopter landing in the road. I've got to wonder about my trips home.

The trip itself was good although it began a little rough. When we got to the airport my Explorer wouldn't shift into gear. So, I leave my bag unattended in the queue and run outside after getting a call on my cell informing me of this. I was freakin' a bit as it took me a few minutes of abusing the shift lever to finally get it to function. When I got back to the line I was kinda expecting someone to be upset about the bag, but it didn't seem to have made a visible impact.
After getting picked up in CT and back to J&D's we had a great dinner and visit. The next AM more Explorer issues, this time with the spare surveyor one. Not 10 minutes after heading out with the casino as destination the brakes stop working. The casino would wait one more day.

more to come...

note from the road

Still in CT on vacation. Had a wonderful gathering at L&M's Sat. yes, my birthday. I will write more after returning to FL.

response

As I have wont to; I page forward in the blogosphere after I check in on my own page. There are many foreign language pages that I can't decipher, there are some homey things, some pretty commercial entries and occasionally something to peak my interest. I will read some little family oriented things followed by an artistic thread. After reading a poetry blog by some dude in his early forties, I had to wonder if my lines were as hard to read as his. I know that occasionally I will flex my vocabulary for the sake of it, other times I am in such a rush in my mind and my keying is a bit weak, leading to a somewhat truncated or disjointed entry. One line that sparked my decision to "respond" was 'deny absurdity'; I so protest. Is not Chuang Tzu the author of "Genius of the Absurd"? Well of course he is; and what a freaking incredible read it is; or so my memory tells me. It has been well past 25 years since I have read it. Defend the absurd is the motto I state here. Perhaps I will elaborate if prompted.

vacation

It's Saturday, the first day of my longest vacation in over ten years. So much to do before heading North; I am glad that I decided to fly but the relaxation part of this deal hasn't kicked in yet. Looking forward to seeing everyone and hope that I don't miss any hurricanes. I don't have a laptop to lay any thoughts down, but, given my plans I may take the opportunity while at a sibling's.

collage

Been getting some material together for the collage I am in the planning stage for for Danny. So many other collage ides rage through the process. I hope that I will some day get off my ass and begin the "Fisher of Men" an image that's been generating and re-presenting for a very long time. My timetable for Danny's Dragon is to take it from the prep state into application shortly after my return from vacation.

song

Songlines tripping through mindscapes waves upon waves standing oscillating moving multiple trajectories. Sourced from dimensions beyond cutting into bellcurve access, orca, insect, human. How kin the math.

was

Used to be a funky junkie, learned something new in wabi sabi land, rhymes and retribution; alliteration can be a dull deal or punish me with puns.

Not verse but labeled. Taglined put up and sent on it's little errand. Delivery immanent. Destination unknown.

What change the universe from the butterfly wings flapping away here?

ramble

Saturday, feels like Sunday, I am so glad that it's not. I miss the days when my life had a different flow and the day of the week were not something that I payed much attention to. After ten years of living for the weekend the structural containment often seems oppressive. My relationship with time has somehow become more mundane, more tuned to the mass consciousness. Sure there are pockets of fluidity and the sweet Aboriginal thing as well as Dr. Who and the time-lord abilities. It pleasing to know that divergence keeps some options open. Perhaps I will find one of those portals or reconnect with my higher abilities. Exit stage left.

mortality

That whole question of life and death seems tied to me like a big box kite in a continuous breeze. My dear friend and brother Aquataine has recently been diagnosed with cancer and proclamations of old Mr. Death visiting in the relatively near future have tied that kite string to my awareness with a strong cord. I let my feelings, memories and knowledge of my understanding of A. surface and recede like the tide of my awareness. There is a swing between my selfishness and compassion. Us humans tend to do this as it would be difficult to not take changes, particularly unwelcomed ones, to a close tie personally.

Bottom line; I love you.

reality

The inevitable themes of space, time, space-time and reality reshape themselves forever in my musings. Perhaps a star-burst apocalyptic sensory transition to witness directly the layers of being where the Dorian Grey painting of each thought and feeling glares would finally bring home the concept of sin. There would always be some negatively charged impulse to see what debauch, turmoil and meanness would look like on the part of some manifest being. It's disturbing at least that the incredible ability to stretch realities' expression goes in infinite directions.

Why is it I am recalling a conversation with Silver Fox, some years hence, around the cool deck at Juliette's in Atlantic Beach? We were rapping and delving and construing on subjects primarily gravitating in the metaphysic, when the vibrational frequencies and efforts involved in trying to reach ascendancy focused the discussion. He hits me with a "do you really think that higher vibrations are better than lower?" as if I was judging right and wrong here. I actually felt mildly assaulted by the delivery of that intentionally accusatory question. It was great in that it stuck with me and I thank ols SF for the gift. Sure I went into a bit of defensive posture for a few minutes, supporting the validity of all aspects of life, but simultaneously proclaiming a personal decision to accelerate and refine frequencies that I was able to influence. It's a normal spiral path of ascendancy/descendancy that plugs us into and out of the visible dimensional experience with the apex and nadir stretched beyond conception.

verse

I wonder if I can bring back to mind some of the free verse that used to grace the envelope reverse of my snail mail correspondences back in my vagabond days before the pc when my cacography was a bit tamer. I still had GH occasionally interpret my scratches for me. A hell of a thing to not even be able to read one's own writing. My sister's calligraphic nuances impressed me no end until I discovered that she would write her missive over before posting. It was still a very lovely display of script with a good payload of essence.

fire rekindled

So, I was for some reason thinking about fire on my drive home yesterday (actually last Thursday) I tossed a very small unformed set of words indicating that I had thoughts on this theme into my blog, feeling a certain lack of fulfillment. Today (Friday) the theme seemed to resurge while listening to the compilation I put together for LM alias Von.
Well yeah I'm a Leo, born in the Sun ruled fixed fire sign and I have been around many a campfire. One of the more memorable from hoedad days was when we set somewhere in the vicinity of 50 cords of timber left on a planting site. That baby lasted long enough to still cook dinner over more than 48 hours later.
I also was displaced by a house over-warming of great magnitude. I will probably get back to that as the weekend from hell or stop asking me what's new.

sunday retro

This being Sunday and being a bit unhappy with the fact that I can't seem to find a way to paste in some little bits of word flow, perhaps tributaries that were set a few days ago, I shall introduce them in reverse time sequence. Therefor retro rather than intro.

fire

Fire, what an element.
Flammable/inflammable interesting that.
A touch of the old Crazy World of Aurthur Brown and a long parade of musical, poetic tributes. Arson, spontaneous combustion. It's just amazing.
I've had my little relationship with it, some incredibly positive and some so not.
Weirdly enough there are too many stories, memories and snippets that I feel presently inadequate to proceed into story-telling mode. So I will leave this theme and know that I've fed a salamander somewhere. Blaze on.

tv shows

Cable TV with a lot of channels excluding the extra packages and I can't find anything to watch. So, I was thinking of some of my old favorites and a few of them were extremely short lived.

• VR5 - I can't even find a remnant or DVD much less rerun
• Max Headroom
• Kung Fu
• Firefly - was glad to see this on the rerun circuit for a brief run; I've got the DVDs anyway
• Sea Quest
• Space Precinct - not much of a show but I'd like to see one anyway; Barney Miller in space

I guess this shows some of my tastes. I'm pretty sure that I also like a few mainstream shows too.

• X-files
• some of the Brit-coms particularly Faulty Towers

I could even go for some old Westerns

• Rawhide
• Maverick

I think I'll hit Netflix instant and catch an original Dr. Who. Nope i'm gonna catch an episode of Earth2

Happy viewing to you.

nothing to say

What a great old Jethro Tull tune.
I'm just taking one of those quick breaks in my Sunday to sip coffee, catch up on some on-line activities, test some tunes on a compilation disc, smoke a cig. and enact an entry to facilitate rhythmic activity, still awaiting the cascade effect to fall out of this glaciated pace.
OK back to Mundania.

decadence a way of life

So the season is winding down in Florida and I spent some days in Gainesville where I ate some Skeeters Big Biscuits and picked up a T-shirt; purple with the slogan "DECADENCE A WAY OF LIFE" emblazoned across the chest. Later that summer I went dancing in a club in Portland Maine with G. and the bouncers were bidding on my T.. Needless to say I did not part with it even when the bid hit $40. (this was back around 1980, I had paid $6 for it)
Back on the row, the following season, in the hinterlands of Alabama where the famous white breakfast is the extent of morning choices in the local eateries. White toast, eggs over, grits and biscuits with white gravy. I caved due to my pangs and was in consumption mode when a heavily accented voice was persistently asking for some attention. In an accent you could cut with a chainsaw I hear, hey was' tha' theer Dee-Kay-Dense some kinda cult? So in my most accommodating sonorous voice I replied that no it was not a cult; but that it is a sect of Zoroastrianism. The conversation terminated.

sunday

Sunday evening winding down folding in pushing thoughts of another Monday away and digesting a sumptuous meal. Pondering how bare my soul or what purpose this blog. Looking forward to a gathering next month in the Northlands.