Quiet days. Sleeping much.

Listening to the sound of my heart. Rhythms.

"Oh, life you are so terrible so wonderful so brief."

Our species gifted at pattern recognition.

Going through my words photos recordings. Patterns. It’s the same for us all.

Our stories’ dreams. Our codes. Life codes. What we are and aspire to be.

The DNA of our Souls. All being deciphered by each other for each other.

Days go by

 

 

Once upon a time.

The sky and world from my kitchen window.

 

FB Memory. Once upon a time.

From my Covid Journals. April 10, 2020. 

The Emerald City is empty. Manhattan is striking. Empty.

This in mid-day. Including Times Square. I didn’t plan on going into Manhattan.

I went to my pharmacy and just stayed on the empty subway till I got there.

Everything shut. I decided to walk down the middle of 42nd Street.

Walked the Times Square traffic line in midday. No cars no cops just a few bikes.

It looked like an end of the world movie. Things smelled different.

Industry shut the air cleansing itself. The sky is noticeably bluer.

My social distance was three blocks.

Saw some folks far ahead likely tourists.

Airports shut so they may have come on an ocean liner.

Some are still foolishly going around the world.

Floating petri dishes. Such times. Be safe be well.

 

A bit late I slept through it.

For whom it may concern have a Happy Easter.

 

 

"...Time and again"

This is Lady Florence Norman, a suffragette, on her motor-scooter in 1916.

Which is odd because I just saw her tooling along in the park yesterday.

Seems she also has a dark matter pocket watch.

 

From my Temporal Journals.

Once upon a time: Peach Bonnet Nebraska March 21st 4:26pm 1904~CE.

An early Tuesday evening. Hazy stars were appearing through snowflakes in the wind.

The quiet strikes you. Streets unpaved shops gas lit. So quiet.

A woman with a child came out of a Sundry store. A 7-11 to us. The child four? Born with the new century. The woman grinned and nodded the child also smiled. People not yet afraid of strangers. I walked this place. This peaceful though complex human place. So confident of their past, and proud of the present. So unknowing of what's to come.

I took a snapshot of a woman walking ahead of me.

This with a period box camera. As new to them as 3-D iPhones would be to us.

I’ll return in their subjective Summer. Months to them days to me.

Peach Bonnet will be in full leaf.

Set my dark matter pocket watch and portaled home.

Home to a troubled wounded future.

 

Yesterday a chill but temps in the Emerald City going up to 83f/28c.

The leaves are barely here and Brooklyn tropical heat edging in.

After I posted this went out. The sun so much higher in the sky.

Walked sat for a time. The sun healing and energizing.

Like the solar arrays on the space station. I felt renewed.

Went to the fruit and veggie shop.

Got tangerines and roasted nuts.

It's the little things. Have a good and bright day.

 

Out and about in the ‘hood early this afternoon.

Sun bright skies deep blue a chill in the wind.

Wandered down the Parkway taking rest stops on the benches.

Was a child walking these very cobbles now an elder.

I’ve lived many places but came back to where I started.

The Earth abides and we with it.

 

Rosa Parks Barbie.

 

Nippon Barbie.

 

 

Brooklyn the Atlantic Avenue/Eastern Parkway area.

At top there's the Williamsburg Tower. Built as the Williamsburg Bank in 1929.

NYC is a planet of small towns. A Holy Roman Empire of ethnic fiefdoms

 

 

 

Put simply. We're not just here for us.

We're here for others. Everyone has a story and they all matter.

 

Happy Easter.

This talk of dinos in da Bible got me wondering. 

Here's a few of our pals in the Rennaissance.

 

A detail from our local brownstones. Buildings here have names.

For a century, and more these folks calmly watched over us.

Seasons came and went. Sun rain snow.

We grew up then old being watched from above.

 

 

Hell of a week. Been hauling myself all over town battling assorted Social Agencies. Being an Elder ain’t for the faint of heart. Sometimes the house of cards implodes and ya have to go all Defcon One. I know plenty have been there. Paperwork the bedrock of civilization also it’s doom. Did folks back in Ur have to drag around bags of inscribed clay tablets to prove they exist. And if one is stamped wrong ya gets fed to the bears? Did I mention them thousand pounds of backed up laundry I huffed in then wars trying to get my damned meds worked out. For all this I’m grateful. I’m still alive to have these stupid problems and the snarky will to deal with ’em. I got some ice cream. ...figured I earned it.

New York Spring.

 

 

While just sitting and sitting and sitting in my golden retirement nightmare. It occurred to me. What if back when I was seeing a shrink. Actually two. Long story. What if one of them fell asleep on me. This while I'm spilling my guts about the boring stupid horrors of my life.

What's the etiquette for that?

This sounds like a problem Thurber would have made a cartoon for in a 1928 New Yorker.

Does one leave, and if you do should you pour pancake syrup into her purse? Which you should always carry for such eventualities. That or also sleep, and then compare dreams.

And another thing.

What if I really was abducted with my aunt Syble by them saucer guys from her back yard in 1956.

It sure seemed real at the time. ‘VVI’ our station manager gave me a few sick days when I thought I was having crazed flash backs. I worked for the only radio station on earth that would give a person UFO flash back sick leave. ...this happened! Like Baron Munchausen said: "This is precisely the sort of thing nobody ever believes. "

Then there's all that Angel, and Demon stuff that went on when I was going to Catholic school.

That noise looked pretty 3-D at the time. I ever tell you the story of the statue of Saint Teresa in our church waking up and telling some of the kids to: "...Pray".

That was my first X File. The Church hates it when that happens.

Personal 'revelations' blows their whole game. It was a big bleeping deal. Even da Bishop in full dress uniform showed up and ordered the whole school Nuns everybody never to talk. Which is why you never heard of it. They were freaked.

It's something when you're a kid, and you see adults lose their shit. Them guys don't like mysteries they didn't make up themselves. This added to the deal breakers that led me to be a Queer anarchist peacenik hippie.

This is the thing about being so much closer to 100 than 20.

You have tons of stuff in your head like the above, and now loads of time to think about it.

I should do a video puppet show of my life. ...we all should. My film reviewer friend the late Paul Wunder always said... "Everyone has at least one good script in them.”

Yeah, pretty much. You folks take care of each other.