we gripped life in our
hands tightly and knew it was
only a moment

(photo courtesy ride the machine)

prelude to a farewell

i’ve been mulling this over for a while now. in fact I’ve probably been putting it off. but the reality has caught up with me and it’s time i finally pull the plug on this show and send everybody home.

almost 3 years ago I began this little experiment. the idea was fairly simple. a post each day sharing a haiku. a meditation on the day. it became a kind of creative healing. a place to play and park so many of the thoughts that go rolling around inside my brain. this endeavor kept me active and more engaged with the world around me as i looked for new inspiration.

but time has caught up and shifted me now to a different place. the purpose has, i believe largely been fulfilled. i had wanted to share some things and the way i see the world. and i’ve done that. and sure, i could keep it up i suppose, but now it’s time for other projects.

thanks to all of you who joined me on the journey and who are reading this now. thanks for your comments of encouragement. it means a lot. i plan to leave the blog up indefinitely (that is to say as long as blogger allows) and invite you to visit the archives. if there are any missing links or files related to earlier posts, and you would like some more info or the original file, just shoot me a comment and i’ll be happy to respond as i am able.

and finally for those of you who were always wondering or never thought to ask, here is a little insight on the origins of the name “toastrobot”. back at the beginning of this as i was trying to think of a name, i was looking for something that sounded like two opposing ideas, like “iron butterfly”. i love robots, especially the shiny metal toy variety. and the contrast of a warm piece of toast appealed to me. like something fresh. add to it that my motorbike is commonly referred to as a “toaster” and it just seemed to work. anyway, it’s certainly taken on its own life and given me some in return.

so there you have it. may you continue to be blessed as i have been blessed.

mattb

 

the images we
record get tucked away like

files of memory

  we ride on waves of

magnetic invisible

  messages we hear

favorite things 18

the days around here are finally beginning to warm, and of course the baseball season is now in full swing. which for us means a lot more time spent outside. last night as the sun began its descent we barbecued nathan's hot dogs while my son aaron and i played catch on the lawn. in the background we could hear the sights and sounds of another game being played by our local team far away in the land of their birth. there in new york it was cold and wet, and i smiled as some of the remaining sunlight still touched my cheek.
since we're well inside the broadcast area, my little transistor radio works well. this one is a repro we picked up years ago based on a design from the 50's. like most of my favorite things what i love about it is the simplicity and reliability. unlike so many of the complicated digital whatsits of today, this device only does one thing and needs no online tutorials to operate (that is unless you were born after 1985) the cost to operate this little marvel amounts to less than a couple dollars a year. and for now the airwaves remain free.
there's something very calming about listening to the ballgame on the radio on the porch or while working in the back yard. for a time you can imagine that life is still simpler, like the design of this transistor. but then your line of thought drifts forward as you remember that this gadget heralded a coming future, where we could not only take the broadcasted programming to the beach with us, but one day become the broadcasters ourselves.

the home of the wolf
is a castle wall between

world of man and wild

dedicating my thoughts today to the relaxing and meditative cool blue of the floating sea...

the engine of our
 mind at play now overhauled
in a shop of thoughts

playmobil

 one of the better perks in being a parent is selecting your children's toys for them when they are still very young. in fact, it is something quite like an art picking things out for their play. it requires a combination of keen logical deduction and a reckless abandonment to intuition. and sometimes it is a payback to the wounded days of your own childhood, that without check can get away from you like a runaway train. yet in all of this, there has been a careful attention to quality. an attempt to help form long lasting relationships with toys that will not only spark the imaginative play, but give the user an excellent entry point into solid design.

 all of this is captured in the world of playmobil. born of the fatherland, where some would consider the father land of toy production, the branstatter  group began production in the 1970's. as a child i remember these sturdy plastic figures in themes based mostly in generic historical settings, such as pirates and knights. currently they still produce over 30 themes both historical and modern.

over the years we've collected quite a bit of the stuff. we have the obligatory knight and castle sets, pirate boats and island, (with napoleonic navy in hot pursuit) and of course the city sets with our private lear jet at the ready to take our little people all over the playmobil planet at a moment's notice. although they lack the more intricate assembly and building traits of the rival lego sets, there is still much interchangeability. and with that comes so much of the fun.

 as we routinely clean out the garage and donate or sell outgrown items, the question always seems to come around to what we'll do with these. they get played with less and less these days, and yet it's difficult for me to let them go. i'll pick up a piece or two and stare at the wonderful details that have been included and think what a shame it would be if they were one day gone. so i guess until the kid in me has had enough they will continue to occupy a shelf in my garage and a warm place in the heart.

our frame is hidden
from all who see us but the
the eyes of Creator

calling card of a dead man

i was thinking about a ray bradbury book i had never finished reading, and decided to go look for it in the garage. i found it and began to read it again from the beginning. as i made my way through to the point where i had last left off some 20+ years ago, a little business card fell from between two of the pages. i picked it up and studied it. it had a name, address and phone number, but no mention of any business or service. and it took me a minute before i remembered where it had originally come from.
one day those many years ago as i was on the 5 fulton bus, heading from golden gate park to downtown, reading that same ray bradbury book, an older gentleman spotted me reading, and struck up a conversation. he commented on how he seldom saw young people reading anymore, and we talked about books and authors and the city. and then he asked me if i would like to earn a little money, helping him organize some of his own writings. he said he had been working on his memoirs and needed an assistant. being broke and somewhat curious i said i would be willing to help. and that's when he must have handed me this calling card.
on an agreed day and time i showed up to his studio, way out at the end of fulton, a block from the beach. in fact his view of ocean beach was quite enviable. he wasn't quite sure where to start and had me locate various papers and letters for him. and then he began to make dictation, which i was supposed to record. it was slow going, with a lot of stops and read backs, and at one point the old guy snapped at me when i asked what i thought a very innocent question, and after a couple hours i made my excuses, and made my way out of there.
i never did go back or call, and so when i discovered this calling card again i was curious to see if anything ever amounted to the old man's memoirs. i didn't locate anything published by him, but a google search informed me that he had lived quite the interesting life. he had lived in both new york and san francisco, and rubbed elbows with writers, theater folk and even a famous sausalito madam. he was a child during the 1906 earthquake and witnessed the horrors of the aftermath of that tragedy as he made his way through a burning san francisco that grim day. and as i thought about that anniversary today, i thought it worth sharing that i had once crossed paths with this really interesting old guy. perhaps if i had been a little more patient, i might have helped him record his story that remained largely untold.

transportation for
the new old location called

 imagination

carrug island

one of the reasons i think the t.v. show "lost" was so popular is because i believe within all of us is an island of private thought. a construct of all of the sacred dreams and desires we carry around separate of our connection to others. this place, which i have named "carrug island" appeals to me very much.
it's my place of escape, and a land where a boy may be king. still featuring a restored castle from original inhabitants of centuries past, now open to guests as a kind of museum, winery and b+b. there is also a football field nearby (and when i say "football" i'm not talking about the american offering) which hosts world cup qualifying and exhibition matches from around the world. just to the south of it is the little hamlet of carrug where one can grab a pint of local ale while listening to folk music or spoken word. further south one may choose to stay in our 5 star international accomadations with all modern technology and convenience.
of course the biggest event each year is the vintage moto gp, whose road course challenges riders from all backgrounds and which circumnavigates the island. after the race you may find some of the riders hanging out at the igloo club and dancing the night away. all of this fun does require an organization, and you'll find our three building headquarters and offices down on the southeast side of the island. when we take a break from the busy planning, we like to head down to the gourmet hot dog stand below on street level.
of course there are other attractions and amusements including the carrug peaks, with an still active volcano, and its unusual desert valley below. a large greenhouse cultivating some of our more delicate fruits and flowers, and even a circus show to rival cirque du soleil's. and too there is always the beach. never far from our gaze, it's beautiful blue reminds us that we are always close to life.

a reminder of
life in time of disaster
here written in stone

warm toast

friday afternoon i got a call from my old friend jim, asking if i would like to be his guest that night, along with his brother and another friend at a show on polk street. with little time to plan i shot out of work, and waited for them to swoop by and pick me up. we parked and went looking for a place to get a quick bite to eat. and we stopped here.


as i gazed up at the sign i had to laugh, and felt i would be remiss if i didn't capture some imagery from the place and share it here. inside it was an updated take on the urban diner theme, clean and contemporary. typical of the style it featured counter service and booths looking out on the intersection. the food too was what you would expect, although i can only vouch for the fries. my companions orders were more substantial and they looked tasty with big portions.
outside on the sidewalk in front of the entrance i spotted this little stamp in the cement which is so indicative of san francisco. you see the names of the street on each corner in the city, and they are designed in the event that an earthquake levels all recognizable landmarks as it did nearly 106 years ago. as you wander through the horror of that aftermath, perhaps you may at least have a sense of where you are.

the satisfaction
of momentary visits
lived in the present

brazil

sunday morning. easter morning. arose early, while it was still dark outside and readied myself for a sunrise service at church. stood in the brisk chill of easter morning under the tall 3 crosses as we sang hymns and waited for sunlight to warm us. drank coffee from a thermos that steamed in my hand. felt the warmth.
returned home and proceeded to mount up on my motorbike for an 2 wheeled easterly retreat. into the oakland hills cutting across skyline and joaquin miller surveying vistas below. through the zig-zags of grizzly peak and then up the steep switches toward tilden park. at the brazil building spotted a wedding reception spilling out on to the patio. pulled over and turned off the bike.
pulled out the ear plugs and watched as a light wind rocked the cherry blossoms, gently creating an effect like snowfall that dazzled the eyes. then watched as wedding guests dressed in elegance moved about and listened to their lilting voices, laughing. and for a few moments wished to be a part of that community. the beauty and sanctity of a wedding on easter sunday. new life.
the moment passed. realized place and time. returned ear plugs and sparked bike back to life. then tore back down the hills through berkeley and tunnel road, and finally screaming back on highway 13, toward home.

a palace for the
people's electorate waits
on new leadership

the view from street level

back now to the workaday week, with all of its demands. while my head drifts off to faraway places to gaze up at the windows of buildings that no longer exist. and i sense the wrecking ball is closing in.

see the place He lay
yet don't fear He is not here
but risen today

much to learn

our smallest youngling seen here regaled in his newly fashioned robe (thanks mom) is hard at work studying the jedi arts, and dedicating himself to learning. however, he was born on a thursday, and as the poem says he has far to go. fortunately, we are here to assist.

"truly wonderful, the mind of a child is."

-yoda

tears from heaven fall
on hardened hearts and begin
to melt them away

the delineation between light and shadow. a horizon of meditation where darkness and light meet. we live here below and see as through a glass darkly and wait for the glory that is to come...

the spirits pay us
visit and bring the bubbly
which comes to a head

a chair for the bubbly

we had some friends over the other night for a birthday party and i decided to use the get together as an excuse to pop open a bottle of champagne that's been sitting in our refrigerator for the last 6 months. as we sat around the table talk turned to that great contest dwr hosted a couple of years back where they invited folks to create chair models using only the materials found on a champagne cork. you can see some of the examples here.
without noticing, my friend jess, who happens to be a furniture designer began fashioning his own postdated entry. the result can be seen above. i think it is a very elegant and regal design, and i like the accompanying cork side table. in fact the more i look at it the more it draws me into this little scene, and invites me to sit down with a very small glass of champagne. you may find me holding court here soon :^)

slip the cracks as you

slide up and against the grain

then across splinters

religion seeks to conform the outward man. God calls on the inner man and points his soul higher...

soul's walk takes us to
cross a bridge of serenity
and find our love

baby we were born to be mild. you know, live to ride, ride to live. yeah.

out of one many
cling together for the hope
that all is not lost

greetings carbon units!

we sit at the round
table our discussions go
on infinitely

happy!

happy belated birthday mr. b. you've got the world in your hand!

the eternal climb
from downward spiral lifts us
one step at a time

over 30 years ago today, you taught us all to play. thank you and goodbye mr. duey.

the home fires are still burning...

the face of the tramp

now turns west and takes steps to

catch that train once more

a day at the railway

and now for something completely different. a little railway distraction trip, courtesy my uncle courtenay and aunt vera. enjoy the ride!

there's a place for us. somewhere, a place for us...

living in the land
between the past and now where
nothing else matters

making my escape against the backdrop of the familiar today.

erin go bragh!

where i've been

one of my favorite things about these matchbook stories is the evidence of travel. like a detective in an old noir i feel as if i am putting pieces of a mystery together. where did this come from? how do i get there? what will i find? puzzle pieces from someone else's forgotten past...

where i'm at

when you look back at the pictures i have posted over the past 4 days, you wouldn't know it, but they were all taken in a single day within a block of my work. and this simple fact reminds me of 2 things. first, the idea of photography as expressed by alfred stieglitz when he said "in photography there is a reality so subtle that it becomes more real than reality" in that the brief time i took to step outside and record these images, and then alter them slightly, removing them from their original time and place, they became something more. something i saw and then shared, and thus they have been transformed.
secondly, all of this connects to me, and to where i'm at now. stieglitz also marveled at the wonderful simplicity and access to creativity that photography affords us, even today in this digital medium. all any of us need do is step out, and look for these opportunities. they are all around us. and in sharing them, we share little pieces of our selves.

"i have found my subjects within 60 feet of my door"

- alfred stieglitz

from the wreckage we
emerge undamaged though still
shaken by the blow

the awakening
of monday hits us hard as
we slam into walls