ssr

ssr means sustained silent reading. but you already know that because it’s what you’re doing right now. it’s what we do for 30 minutes before p.e. starts every day. mr. thomas tells us “find a spot, and no talking!” and we all spread out. i climb to the top of the bleachers which are retracted and sit under the drone of the fluorescent lights and breathe quietly to myself. mr. thomas is one of the better ones. he doesn’t say what we have to read like some of the teachers do. today he’s scanning a copy of sports illustrated. most of the other guys have mags too. car mags, rock mags and no doubt one or two have a copy of penthouse or playboy concealed beneath one of their “cover” mags. i’m reading a copy of mad today. if i stretch it, i might be able to make it last all week. i’ll literally read it from cover to cover including all the copyright b.s. and the address and everybody's name. i especially like the little cartoons they put in the margins. a lot of people don’t even notice them. right now i’m reading one of those bits where they take a song and write new words to it. i don’t always know the songs, but i know this one. it’s the Christmas song “we three kings” it’s got a cartoon of these guys drinking in a car. the lyrics go “we three clods from omaha are spending Christmas eve in a car. driving, drinking, glasses clinking, who needs a lousy bar?” i’m trying not to laugh because that would disrupt he first “s” in the ssr. but it’s great. i can hear the voices of these guys singing in my head. “ohh...drink to charlie drink to paul drink to friends we can't recall. swerving, speeding signs unheeding drink to anything at all” ok, that last line didn’t quite work, but it’s still funny. i’m smiling now as i look around like i’ve got this little secret. way better than the playboy and penthouse guys. second verse - - - “we three clods are feeling no pain. drunk as skunks with booze on the brain. senses losing 'til we're cruising into a wrong way lane” hahaha. that’s funny. “ohh...drink to melvin, drink to fred. drink to those two trucks ahead. headlights flashing screeching, crashing drink till they pronounce us dead” again that last line. maybe if he said “drink til they say we’re dead” it doesn’t matter though because i’m busting a gut now. hahaha! at which point mr. thomas looks up from his s.i. and yells “brown!” which means i’ll be running an extra lap today. totally worth it...

can you hear me...

my ear is infected. going to try and take it easy today. the pain is exquisite. when i lay on one side i can hear my own heart swooshing through liquid. and if i curl up and close my eyes it sounds like i'm back in the womb.

in times of trouble
lift your eyes up to heaven
and sense the wonder

window shopping

as the traditional first day of christmas holiday shopping begins today, i wanted to share a little of the wonder i remember as i passed the windows into my own desires. happy hunting!

in all things give thanks
it is the will of God
in Christ Jesus for you

almost missed it...

the dawns light is coming on now. he pushes his old ford escort a little harder down the boulevard as it gasps for air. the streets are empty except for the all-nighters, stumbling up and down sidewalks. he holds on to the wheel loosely as the cold numbs his fingers. "gotta fix the damn heater soon" he thinks. "maybe next paycheck" the ford crawls into a driveway and the fan belt lets out a yell as he lurches up the drive. he pulls into a stall and it shudders again as he kills the ignition. he gets out and closes the door which rattles the window as he lets it slam. he pulls the coat up around his neck and walks up to the front of the cafe. as he opens the front door he can feel the swirl of cold air rushing past him seeking to mingle with the warm inside. he lets the door swing and shuffles up to the counter. the fresh coffee fills his cold nostrils and he hears the sizzle of sausage from the grill. the walls are decorated with paper pumpkins and turkeys and cornucopia displays of paper corn and vegetables. all around him are great swaths of brown and orange. he sits down and folds his hands on the counter. the waitress is young and pretty in a plain way. she looks tired, but it is a tired that makes her more attractive. the name on her badge reads "judy". she smiles as she turns over the cup in front of him and pours the coffee. "usual?" "uh, yeah...no. i mean, isn't it thanksgiving today?" "hmm? oh, yeah. i guess it is. i work the overnights so much i forget sometimes when one day ends and the other begins. you want somethin' different?" "i, uh...well, if there's..." "we're not servin' the special till later. but i think the chef's got some sliced turkey in the frig. i could heat up some if you like. maybe find some sides to go with it. would you like that?" "yeah, that'd be real nice." she turns to go, putting the pencil back behind her ear and he turns to look around. gus is over in the corner booth working out the shakes over warm coffee till the bar across the street opens. doris and ben have a big stuffed dog on the table and she's talking to it. and on the waiting bench karl has a newspaper laid over his face as he saws logs. yeah, they're all here alright. judy returns with a steaming plate and lays it down in front of him. "turkey, potatoes, stuffing, green beans and cranberry sauce. and i heated up the gravy too. it's all there. you want anything else?" "thanks judy. uh, i, know you went to a little bit of trouble for me and i really appreciate it. i was just wondering..." "yeah?" "would you mind making up extra plates for all my friends here?" judy gazes out into the restaurant. "them?" "yeah, i'd be real grateful." her face tightens up a bit like she's getting ready for a fight. and then it softens as she looks back at him. "what the hell." she says. "four more specials." "thanks judy. happy thanksgiving." "happy thanksgiving."

fire hydrant 003

in the sierras at our family cabin this little hydrant peeks up from a hill across the street. i used to wonder why it sat so exposed. erosion? but as winter drops a big blanket of white, and then the snow plows heap it on, it's all this little one can do to stay above it. clearly the little pine at its base is enjoying the source as well. this will no doubt be a problem in years to come unless somebody else notices it as well.

so much to sort out
take stock of all that we have
begin to clean up

get yourself some takeout from the place around the corner and finish out the weekend well.

quilttown

my wife's cousin carol makes these fantastic quilts for our kids. each one is a unique art creation. this one was made for my littlest guy and she actually made two, one for another cousin born about the same time as caleb. they fit together like two counties linking a shared road. admittedly i have had as much fun cruising around quilt town as the kids. there's a great downtown area, a forest for camping and a river running through the whole town. something for everyone. so the next time you're taking a road trip, stop by and see us.

breakdown forced to stop
everything we need is here
if we look harder

time again...

life begins anew
on day fifteen-thousand three
hundred forty-one.

shaking

my thoughts are shaking

faster than my hands

too slow to catch

all that flashes by

themselves disappearing

into nothing

carrying infinite possibilities

of decision

and outcome

there is nowhere to run

no time to sit

still

i try to capture

a glimpse

of what

i see

the world is spinning too fast

i haven't

made

a connectiion

i can

count on

for the

rest of my

life

how do you do it?

the new lo-fi

All around us technology is moving at a breakneck pace. The new is old before it’s out of the box and we all go around the product cycle chasing after the tip of the razor on the cutting edge. There’s even a sliding rule of tech-ability and elitism measuring both an individual’s success and cool by their up to the minute possession of the latest and greatest gadgets. If you have the last version of the newest device, you’re a target for scorn in tech circles.
And yet in the midst of all this endless chasing after the wind, there has emerged a new “lo-fi” sensibility. No, I’m not talking about the old “lo-fi” followers like myself, clinging to a vanishing analog, kicking and screaming as we are dragged on to the digital matrix. The old lo-fi followers are integrating into the new, and with that comes a world that in many ways looks similar to the old.
Here are some examples. When television was in its infancy, both the devices and the programming looked pretty primitive compared to today’s standards. The screens were small, the content fuzzy and some folks were just puzzled as to why anyone would want to sit in front of a little box and stare at the grey pictures when they could go to the movie theater and see a full color show that was larger than life.
Now compare that to the way people today stare at comparably small screens on their computer laptops and desktops watching hour after hour of sub-par video as some folks wonder “why would you want do that when for a few thousand dollars you can get yourself a big screen with HD and surround sound?”
In the 1950’s transistor radios began showing up allowing users to share hand held music wherever the signal reached them. Although a marvel, the tradeoff was a relatively smaller output in sound and the loss of tonal qualities that were more and more available in the new “stereophonic” recordings.
Now consider the cellular phone as a replacement. You can download songs right to your phone and hold the music in your hand in the same way teenagers of the fifties and sixties did sharing the latest tunes blasting crudely from an even smaller and sometimes less sophisticated speaker than the transistor radio.
And then there’s home movies. When 8mm movie cameras first showed up, they gave people the ability to capture their memories on the spot with real movement and then later, (gasp) color! Forget the fact that there was no sound and the images were often washed out or grainy. You had your own movie camera and sharing the family vacation would never be a static event again.
And today many digital still camera and cell phones also display a primitive if not reminiscent look to those old home movies. Sure, for not much money you can get yourself a pretty good little digital video set up, but I’m talking now about the devices that were intended for quick clips, many without sound. Some of the first digital cameras had a video quality that has become today’s old home movies.
So there you have it. What’s new is old. And the old is suddenly new again. And the lo becomes hi, and the so called hi looks lo again. Oh well, I guess the most important thing isn’t the devices we use, but how we use them. What we capture and record. We may look back and laugh at the way media is transferred, but in the end it’s all about the story we’re telling about ourselves.

transition...

i'll be on the road for the next few days, so i'm front loading some stuff today. i'll depart from the haiku for a while, and share some ramblings from my collections of short subject and poetry.

american fathers
cuddle their daughters
and whisper to them
"princess"

of imagined kingdoms
from dragons slink some
their bliss
subconciousness

white castle's flags
are blowing
showing
the winds of change
soon to arrive

and bringing with them
the curse of age
where every daughter
is not a queen

when bitterness
and contempt
replace youth's broken dreams

all your life they said

don't believe all that you hear
you're just like the rest

nothing left to give
insides are twisted by time
empty and squeezed out

work night after night
brain now wired differently
check any loose screws

hey joe. thanks for all you do. howsabout a cup of coffee on me?

designed to carry
endless load and weather strain
i am not pretty

favorite things 04

lately it's gotten a little chillier around here in the mornings and evenings. and it's getting harder to justify throwing on my flip-flops. i do love the change in season though, and here in california we really haven't got a clue what fall and winter can really be like. but i'm cool with that too. around here these are kind of standard issue. when i was a kid and summer came around, my mom would throw us in the back of her old volvo, and we'd drive over to payless drugs and proceed to stand in the summer aisle with one foot in a shoe and the other shoe off, bent stork-like to the bottom of a new pair of flip-flops. (one summer was about all you'd get as a kid) i never paid attention to what these cost back then, but when i was twenty-one getting ready for a summer driving trip across the country, my friend said "hey, let's go down to payless and get a new pair of flip-flops. they only cost like thirty-nine cents" what?! i tramped all over america that summer in my newest cheapest footware, feeling the sand between my toes at alamagordo, gazing the vistas at grand canyon and monument valley. i dipped my dirty toes in them along the mississippi and felt whitman's warm leaves of grass curl around my bare feet. that's a lot of mileage for less than two quarters. and somewhere along the highway one of them fell out of our westfalia to end up another lonely and forlorn piece of the american roadside. although i lamented it at the time, at the next town i pulled out some more change and started all over again. (the next pair just weren't the same) in a world where shoes define so much about who we are, what we do and how much we're worth, i can't think of a more democratic rebuttal.

a time to heal...

all of my running around of late has finally caught up. i am sick. at least i have learned how to slow down and sit still when this happens. so as today is a day of rest, i shall attempt to heal. run as long and as far as you can, and when you can't run anymore walk a while. and when you can't do that, lie down and sleep. God speaks to us in our dreams.

take what you want and
fill your plate with wisdom then
use all that you have

hey joe!
yeah, what is it?
you ever get the feeling no matter how hard we work here we never get to leave?
hmm? yeah sure, but i mean come on it's friday already. let's finish this bug.
hey joe?
yeah, now what?
do you ever get the feeling you're being watched?
cut it out mac, and get that wheel on. it's friday...

staying well grounded
i look to future days while
reaching for the sky

goodbye again...

it breaks your heart. it is designed to break your heart. the game begins in the spring, when everything else begins again, and it blossoms in the summer, filling the afternoons and evenings, and then as soon as the chill rains come, it stops and leaves you to face the fall alone. you count on it, you rely on it to buffer the passage of time, to keep the memory of sunshine and high skies alive, and then, just when the days are all twilight, when you need it most, it stops.
- a. bartlett giamatti

endless midnights go
on over warmed refills as
time and space stand still

i and you make we
come together with others
in community

ahoy!

here's another hit from 1957. from decca records it's capt. burl ives' ark! most people remember burl ives as "big daddy" in cat on a hot tin roof or as the voice of the storytelling snowman in the classic rudolph christmas special, but not everyone (at least in my generation and younger) may be aware of his prolific career as a folk musician. dig it, kerouac has just completed "on the road" and it's six years before dylan made the scene. the greenwich scene is in full swing and this record features seventeen folk songs for kids and adults all about animals. i'm not sure what kind of kids grew up out of this kind of music. sometimes it weighs pretty heavy melancholy. and i'm really not sure how i ended up acquiring it. if you look closely there's a label on the cover that shows this was lifted from the barry olivier folk guitar workshop library. a quick look online told me that barry is still going strong, offering lessons in berkeley and that he was a part of the vibrant east bay folk scene in this same period. so if you're ready to take the trip, hang down your head and row your boat ashore, because capt. burl ives ark is loading here.