OK. Here I am waiting for a thought. The timing was good as far as I could tell. The fire in the fire place was dying down, the lens on the camera is cooling off and my face had a soft tingle to it because of the direct exposure to the fire. All of those ingredients should mix together to formulate what to do when I finally would sit down in front of the computer.
While I was taking pictures of the fire, I first needed to decide which lens I wanted to use. My choice was between a zoom 75-200mm lens and a fixed 50mm. The first one would allow me to zoom right into the center of a flame within the fire, all the way out to about ¾ of the complete fire. Because the zoom let in less light into the camera, in order to take a properly exposed shot I needed to use a tripod. That sounded too much like work because I would have had to look for it. Besides, I think the 50mm takes a sharper picture because it had less glass to soften up the shot. I also didn’t want to use a flash because my subject was the flame not the wood. Given all those variables I decided on the 50mm since it e-involved less decisions. (See how being passive is not an a emotional state, but it is a lifestyle?) What am I doing writing in the blog instead of playing with the pictures? Well you see, I believe when you delay the self gratifying act, you are building character and I’ve over heard people calling me quite a character, so it must be true! I hope I come across a couple of shots I really like.
OK. Here I am getting ready to look at the pictures.
I haven’t the motivation to muster up the state of mind I need to be in so that I might be able to transform thought to picture. It seems I might have scared myself silly when I thought about taking pictures of living things. From that point on I couldn’t pick up the camera. It actually scared me, filled me with anxiety at the thought of taking a picture. It doesn't sound like a transition to me. It sounds like a road block. Lost in inter – stellar space where the psyche is the galaxy and materialization is the star. Floating friction less and Freely. “Ground Control, Can You Hear Me?” That state of existence doesn't disappear. It makes somthing as simple as deciding which pair of socks I want to wear almost intolerable. My right to choice has been misplaced! "Can You Hear Me Ground Control?"
It seems I have some conflicting feelings, some of which is (are?) hampering my self worth and growth. A little background....... In the past couple of years or so, my interest in photography has slowly grown. It's somewhat of a challenging hobby while having some practical applications down the road. Alot of photographing ob
Of all the things that can elicit an emotional response, people are pretty high on the list. Mother and child, brother and sister playing together at the basketball hoop, A runner and a trainer working out. My knee-jerk reaction is to avoid contact or interaction. I haven't the strength, personal or otherwise, to overcome this fear of personal contact. I can always be a candid photographer and risk being called all sorts of bad names. Thats another issue I'll have to define to myself later. I've never been interested in photographing people until a week ago. I was riding home from work when I saw three children playing together. One on a bike, one a pair of skates and a hobbler following behind carrying her rag doll by the arm. How much more classic can that picture get? Just thinking about it reminds me of the Waltons, thus eliciting a smile upon this otherwise stagnant face.
Conflicting emotions. The dueling forces behind the creative process. I hope I get over it.
.....Lasts about 25mins. in this hot sun! If you eat it, even sooner. Clutching to Sanity manual, I reach into my pocket for some hand cream, causing me too loose contact with the manual. It's content included. Here I am, a socially challenged individual just marginally keeping all my ice cubes in their tray. Working 12 hrs night so's to have an acceptable excuse for the blank stare and a fuzzy tongue. I can usually hide the fuzzy tongue so's long as a bumble bee catch sight to it and try to cross pollinate the mold bearing taste buds. But I digress.
I wonder how many procrastinators live their life around that phrase?
Son-of-a-gun, Jumpin' Johasaphat! Well I'll be a monkeys uncle! Dang! What's got into me? I haven't got diddlly squat to say and it's still worth it's weight in gold. Now THERE'S a bubble nobody wants to see burst, but it must. Just out of work and my brain is numb and throbbing. My ability to follow a thought process through to it's predictable end is lacking to non-existent. Work is sorta like walking in mud for 12 hrs. How regular people do it is beyond me! I mean do it AND have a life at the same time! My first true love died today. Anette Funmanchello. When she would announce herself in the beginning of "Micky Mouse Club", I would run and hide behind the our Big overstuffed recliner! I think I still blush when I think of it. Unbelievable... After I went to the movie theater to see her in Beach Blanket Bingo, I honestly couldn't eat I was so love-sick!
Depending on the perspective and/or personal outlook. Am I a builder or a spectator? Is that a wall I'm building to keep others without or a structure designed to maintain whatever within? My medications are designed to foster an outgoing attitude. When push comes to shove, that attitude is directed inward, destined to come to rest in my mid-brain purgatory. I must pay attention. A waste is a terrible thing to mind. I can't care more or less. Im sorry I passed the phone. I just panicked when I couldn't think of something interesting to say. So instead of sounding stupid, I settled to just plain rude. I really am sorry. Sorry is never having to say you love.
My hearing. Back in 1968 a portable stereo with the detachable speakers. They must have had 2 4 inch or 6 inch speakers on each side. Well, I'd turn the left speaker up to about an 8 and do the same for the right. I'd queue up 3rd Stone From The Sun (Jimi Hendrix), put the speakers up to my ears and Let'er'RIP. The same for my hearing. R.I.P As one ages, so goes the hearing....(humph!!) Now eyesight? Did someone just mention eye sight? I didn't have my glasses on so I couldn't hear you. It's not all that uncommon What's really a bummer is that your eyesight gets just as poor as your hearing. Well, for me anyway. It's like a still life watercolor that got rained on.
So what if I did turn 60 the other day? It's significance evades me. As far as decades goes, it's only 6th! Why should turning 60 magically make it OK to leave the house without combing (Brushing) the hair? Heck, some days it's even OK to leave your pants unzipped, PJ's still on and floppy slippers hanging onto your feet. Is all this the significance of sixty? Hey Aqualung!
I don't think I felt this way last year (not that I could remember ANYTHING for more than a week) Remembering John Lennon this year has motivated me to try to remember friends and lovers and how I was musically related to them. My first wife is the one who Beatleized me. She would write the lyrics down as if she were writing a letter. She wrote me the lyrics, and a short note on a portion of a brown paper bag. " I want to tell you, I feel hung up but I don't know why......." I saved that and other keepsakes in my sisters RCA stereo. A tiny brown block with two flowers coming out with a plac on the bottom say, "May gentle Times Come Your Way" Dec 8th, 1980 is also an anniversary of one of my back surgeries While I was waiting to go into surgery, I was playing all the Beatles songs I had recorded on cassette tapes.. When I woke up after the operation, almost all the nurses on the floor informed me of John Lennons death. The first thing they thought of, was me! John wasn't just another artist, he was the person who's general musical attitude silhouetted my own. He voiced my thoughts He sung my deepest secrets. Mine and a million other people. I was claustrophobic in my solitude. Floating freely in a, frigid universe. "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans" I was in an anesthetic death when he died and our paths didn't even come close to crossing in front of the statue of Liberty!
Usually, you can tell by the "subject" title weather or not there is anything of substance in the body of the email. Alas, alls I wanted to do was let you know I was thinking about you quite a bit lately. I think some one on one with your mom would make things more real for you whilst you are <---(Power flux, lights flicker, computer starts buzzing and clicking)
Now it's Tuesday, and I was under the impression all train of thought was lost. but it's all coming back now. Your search for self has required you to clear the clutter and take inventory. My absence I believe, allowed this to happen sooner because you didn't feel the need to explain yourself. I don't think that's imagining me more important than I am thinking my presence alters your behavior. Does it?
It pleases me and warms my heart to see you unfold your loosely wrapped la
It saddens me to realize this email will not be sent. Instead I will copy it and use it as a blog.
We all are unfinished. That's how I recognize other peoples advances.
Alright. I know where the tripod is, and I have a working cable release. I've watered the corner flowerbed. I have already moved the park bench so that it is facing the corner lot. I watered the parcel and I've spied some alpha lightning bugs bl
I am taking my own advice and placing a title onto an unplanned blog entry. Why do I spell freak the way I did in my title? I may, one day, write a blog about that. Let me just jott that thought onto my, "hafta do things when I can" list. Right now, I don't want to find the list, get a piece of paper, (I really did not fall for the paperless society)
Speaking of societies, I never did consider myself a hippy. I was more of a freak, in a hippy sort of way. It didn't bother me. I never had the gray matter to process and hold the rules. Being without pictures I didn't have a backup to my hard drive. Bummer.
Seize the moment! Its a bit frustrating especially when I have an excess of moments without enough gumption to seize anything! I remember writing a bio-rhythm program and I am picturing the graph it produced. Only rarely did the physical, emotional and motivational attributes peak simultaneously with a high degree of self worth. Lately it seems when I'm motivated to do something and feeling creative, the surge of energy is enough to short circuit my synaptic infrastructural super highways. Trying to hold onto and act on a thought is akin to playing "Where's Waldo?" I know as I get older, I tend to cry in my beer more often. The difference is when I was younger, I would drink the beer after I cried in it. After I made my bed, I'd lie in it. Now-a-days I don't possess the memory required to be a good lier although I get plenty of sleep. Actually I do too much sleeping and not enough dreaming. But I digress......
Right now,( the moment), I want to listen to and play along with James Taylor while writing something in my blog. It's raining, it's pouring, the old man is snoring.
That's another can of worms I don't want to open just yet!
It sounds so cold. Manipulating a persons thought or sub-thought. My mind being of nimble state, takes the detour since its passage is less corrosive, and therefore the path of least resistance. I depend on a slingshot to inject me into the same orbit I had been manipulated from. My task was to find my e-mail and start a letter. Send it off. My detour was a Google tour. Amazed anew renew. My point of view is always compromised when I write it down, because I change words seeking a correct spelling more than a reflective philosophy. I ran THAT thought cold as was left sitting in the computer chair, "Now What?" a re-boot wasn't required but it sure sounded more pro-active. I roll my neck to try to get a good "Pop!" It didn't work this time. The only thing I felt and heard was the grinding. A bit like Roller bearings around a stick-shift. The shoulder slots are next. Just to get a good stretch from them. Arch the back, tighten the thighs, watch out for cramps in the calf, rotate the ankle, stretch and wiggle the toes. (Reboot)...... Why is there never any gold at the end of my rainbow? No 4-leaf at the end of my clover. Just a..... sigh........after a re-boot.
Whats it like being me?
( Woe! That wasn't a reboot- That was a core change!!)
My last concern before I go to sleep is to make sure I wake up to be able to sleep again. The life cycle of a dormant moon. This moon had had it's meltdown and it's warranty reevaluation long before the eyes turned dark. Festering puss filled rotted cells of the intestine wall will continue to manufacture "le essence de feces" since It has more staying power on old, dead skin pores. Hell, a good fart is something to celebrate!. Shakes some of the salt from the celery!
I believe every time I write, I try to address myself in another reality, another state of mind. It is not an attempt to convince anybody of my mental deficit. Kept preserved, but abused.
I wondered why my dad would go into his car in the driveway, and drink whiskey, then start telling his war stories so he'd not have the same nightmares every time he closed his mind."What was there to cry about?" ,I would think. I never possessed the raw ingredients to develop a concern for my fellow Carbon Units. His story. Brutal. I never believed him and I certainly don't remember the stories except for the death and secrets and a large portion of unfairness and abandonment
My major reactive emotion I would experience talking to my dad was fear and shame. The fear was first because it was finite. It had a beginning, a body and an end. The shame still stings my core. Shame is the kernel that fosters the festering puss filled cells of the intestine. Of the heart and soul. Systemic and highily metastatic it's habitation is highly fatalistic. A degenerative atmosphere for a regenerative microbe.
That's the way the cookie crumbles!
First and Fore-most I need to remember to title things. I'm thinking primarily about this blog but maybe it would prove beneficial in other areas of my life. Re title my "marriage" speech from,"to,"....That's right I NEVER had a marriage speech! What was I thinking 8-)
I left the power-washer out in the yard. Could be I left it there as a trophy-of-sorts?
Two years ago....maybe to the month (April) maybe not (May, June) I went to Harbor Freight and came out with a 2500psi power washer supreme. I set it up in the drive, made sure this "switch" was turned to the left and the Other "switch" to the right making sure not to alter the "middle" adjustment what-so-ever. It took about 3 anahalf hours when it shudda been 15 minutes. I Made sure the wheels were not backwards, the spark plug thingy was taken off and another thingy put on in place of the first thingy before I attempt to fire it up for the first time. That was my largest worry. That and maybe I put too much oil in the crank case, or the engine itself NOT mixed in with the gas That was the year I couldn't fire up my brand new power washer.
I had been traumatized from then, right to to Now, well.......last year when my son on my wife's side, brought it back to Harbor Freight and got me another brand-new Power Washer. He brought it right back to the same garage that housed the power washer that was DOA back to the factory. Ya know, it STAYED in that garage for a FULL year (give or take) until today. This year, just to minimize my anxiety, I took pictures. Pictures of the Power Washer still in the untouched, unopened box, to step 1 in the users manual. I took a picture of each all the steps hroughout the manual until it turned into an Owners manual. I took one last picture. As I was finishing off my power drink, he drove up and parked his van right next to the power washer. I took a picture of him and the finished, but not yet powered up power washer. I hadn't told him, but today, THAT was a place of honor. While we were just standing around Up drives my wife. She only stayed a minute but, for that one, long, uninterrupted minute, the three of us and the power washer where getting BONDED.
After she left again, he started it and let it run 20 minutes and turned it off. It worked.
That's my story, and I'm sticking to it!
About a week ago, I was in a writing mood, so, I came here. I didn't have a title ready, so I just wrote the entry, answered the PG question and posted. NOT. Without the title, that entry went to EP's blog heaven. I wrote about certain questions and observations I had regarding my history and how it had contributed to my present personalty. I hadn't believed until recently that my history still effects my behavior, my problem solving and even my present thoughts. As I've said before, I never thought of myself as a person who was lamenting over their lack of a childhood. But the older I get, the more pissed I get and the more pissed I get, the quieter I get about being pissed. The longer this cycle goes on, the more pressure is built in the pressure cooker. Lately I've been patting myself on the back because I was the only person in my family who hadn't been institutionalized or attempted to kill them-self. The reason I've been doing this soul searching is because the older I get, the more I regress to earlier solutions to solve conflicts. This is not good. Although killing myself is not a present option, it was an option I had and discarded in the past. It was this observation that sparked the realization that even though I learn from my trials and tribulations, it doesn't mean a future solution is going to be as wise. I have hope because the more I regress, the more passive I'm likely to become. The more time I have to think, the less time I have to act. All thought, no action. Life by default.
That's the way the cookie crumbles.
The weirdest thing just popped into my head. I was wondering who would come to my funeral if I were to die. Humph!!!
What possesses me? What is it that compels me write in a blog? Not just any blog, but MY blog. Writing a blog and making it available to EP's public satisfied a perverse fantasy of having.....well, lets just say its not all that different from professing to be an exhabitionest. (Even the spell checker couldn't help me out with THAT one!). Its like Im in the middle of Central Park in New York, and feeling as though the whole world is listening to me as I speak. It wouldn't have to be Central Park, but that's what popped into my head.
It's been a long time since my last blog. When feeling empty, I can't even find the words, let alone a pen and paper. (I know I KNOW I'm showing my age!) But when I'm void of feeling, everything else is lost in the abyss somewhere between my ears.
I'm still hung up about having no pictures of me. It's even more sad knowing the end result is exactaly what this action was designed to do. No anchor, no rest, no past. No eyes in a photo for me to look into to see if they looked like me. I gave her alot of power so she would see by example just what trust really was. Funny though. I felt she would benefit from me being trustful and truthful and as a result be more like me. In hindsight I discover that she had made me more like her. Protective and non disclosing. Silent and sad. Resentful.
It was just a thought anyway.
I knew precisely what I was going to write. Here comes Nirvana singling and playing any thought out of my ears. I now know just how elusive my memory is. Why do I find it so hard to accomplish more than 1 task at a time? Sometimes the queue of misplaced thoughts gets pretty long. They then become lost. Maybe they are misplaced AND Lost? I've gone through the alphabet trying with each letter to remember the topic. That was a good idea although it didn't work. Maybe if I gave it a title, I would have remembered it? The last thoughtful thought is misplaced and/or lost.
Previous PostsOn your mark, Get set......, posted January 24th, 2014
Transition - Inter dimensional pseudo materialization of thought and action., posted January 6th, 2014
Conflicting emotions, posted June 9th, 2013, 3 comments
Cheeseburger in Paridice, posted May 26th, 2013
One of these days ....., posted April 15th, 2013
Dog Gone It?, posted April 9th, 2013
(It's Just) Another Brick....., posted March 30th, 2013
Do I hear Sixty? Did I hear 60?, posted January 17th, 2013
Dec 8th, 1980, posted December 8th, 2012
Chill, posted June 12th, 2012
Lightning bugs and slr's, posted June 8th, 2012
Once a phreak......, posted June 1st, 2012
When it Rains, it pours!, posted April 28th, 2012, 2 comments
Thought Detour..., posted April 16th, 2012
"usta",......I Think?, posted April 6th, 2012
Titles, posted February 14th, 2012
ANOTHER THOUGHT!!, posted January 7th, 2012
Morbid Thought, posted October 10th, 2011, 1 comment
Looking in the mirror, I sadly saw you., posted September 18th, 2011
The ABC's Of My Lost and/or Misplaced Thought., posted June 8th, 2011
I could have written a letter but then I couldn't eat my Ghram Crackers and milk!, posted June 3rd, 2011, 6 comments
Some Light to go with your Crabgrass?, posted April 12th, 2011, 3 comments
"Call Me Crazy But......", posted April 3rd, 2011, 1 comment
Flower Power, posted March 18th, 2011
DREAM PERSPECTIVES, posted February 21st, 2011
Alternative realities or just music?, posted February 7th, 2011
Just a Song? or a Philosophy?, posted February 6th, 2011, 2 comments
Is There A Blog Heaven, posted January 27th, 2011
"One More For The Road", posted January 23rd, 2011, 2 comments
My telepathic expertise !, posted January 18th, 2011
When does anticipation turn into reality?, posted January 14th, 2011
I Me Mine, posted December 28th, 2010
The frutation of insanity, posted December 21st, 2010, 2 comments
Once Upon A Time, posted December 17th, 2010
John Lennon, posted December 8th, 2010, 3 comments
"I Only Read the Articles!", posted November 29th, 2010, 2 comments
Concurring an Insurmountable Fear, posted November 28th, 2010
It was a cold and clammy night......, posted November 24th, 2010
Coal In Your Stocking Is A Good Thing.!, posted November 23rd, 2010
24 at 4. Awake and kickin', posted November 18th, 2010, 4 comments
Third Time Is A Charm, posted November 15th, 2010
Sence of Duty, posted November 10th, 2010
Feed the fish, posted November 9th, 2010, 1 comment
Me, Lil'Bear and Beary, posted November 5th, 2010
Weakily Week, posted October 30th, 2010, 2 comments
Remember when the ipod wouldn't let you shuffle your songs?, posted October 27th, 2010
The void, the sincerity, and the misunderstanding., posted October 26th, 2010
Oh how I wish I were Richard Cory, posted October 13th, 2010, 14 comments
The circle game, posted September 25th, 2010, 2 comments
Aborted Self examination, posted September 23rd, 2010, 10 comments
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