in keeping with the "faces" theme today i wanted to share a drawing my son did recently. i really dig it, looking at all of the different characters he has created here. it looks a little like a rough sheet for an animated film and also works well as a complete work of art. enjoy.

faces part 03

it's been a while since i shared some faces so i thought i'd put a few more up today. the first one i call "bug eyed".

"angry time"

"what are you lookin' at?"

as you move around in your journeys, take a second look. they're out there...watching us.

take my hand today
and walk a while with new eyes
in a world of dream

sorry. we tried and tried...

beaten and sobbing
i lay alone tormented
my soul is now free

favorite things 07

a good friend and i were talking recently. he was telling me he had started a daily workout routine of running and cycling alternating. he had just injured his ankle and was favoring more time on the bicycle. the day before our conversation it had been extremely windy and wet as he headed out on the bike and he cursed the elements as he pressed on through his ride, feeling underprotected while screaming at the skies. "you know, there's just something about having the right gear for whatever activity you're doing" he said. "i mean, you can do it without, but it just makes things so much easier"
true that. i've been blessed by inheriting this proper gear for my old motorbike from another true friend. before, i'd tear around all season in my jeans and an old leather jacket. i wrote an earlier post about what trips were like then here. winter is by far my favorite time to ride here in california. it never gets colder than my second skin can handle and i don't have to deal with all the summer garage queens on the back roads. as chill air races around me, inside my road suit i am warm and well protected.
i love too the ritual of putting it on and taking it off, like the samurai preparing for each day, meditatively donning his armor before heading out and then hanging it up at day's end leaving the outside world on the threshold of personal space. there is a clear line of separation between the outside and the inside worlds. and when you head outside, you'd better be prepared for battle.

i wish i had a
karate glove-then i'd show
you karate love

sunday again

and i'm not moving far from it today...

tractor works all week
to help make family bread
now it's time to play

eleven

when i was five my parents had this bright idea that they were sick of california, the high prices and the crowded neighborhoods. lured by the promise of a simpler life and being closer to my mom's relatives we packed up and moved across country to nashville. i remember the trip well as we caravaned an orange u-haul truck towing my dad's work truck, while following behind, my mom's yellow volvo. sometimes i got to ride in the u-haul cab with my dad as he worked the manual shifter on the highways and i'd sit up high and stare out at the world. and other times i'd be gazing out the front of the car looking at the ford truck with the added trailer lights.
nashville turned out to be a disaster. it was a cold autumn and winter for unprepared californians. both my mom and dad hated their new jobs which paid far less than the ones back home. and i had just begun kindergarten and was learning to read. when we arrived in our new neighborhood we discovered there was no kindergarten, and i was placed in pre-school with my little brother. the humanity.
our house was small, we felt isolated and it seemed like we were just marking time. and at one point (so my mom tells me) i came up to her with pleading eyes and said "will i ever be able to read?" needless to say we didn't last long as tennessee volunteers. within six months we were packing up and on our way back to cali. however the time was not a complete loss. one item i picked up in our brief stay there was this little race car. it originally had a red and white pull string so a small child could tow it along behind. but i was more interested in rear wheel drive and would carefully tuck the string into the driver's cockpit, and then get down real low so that i could watch the alternating piston action of this little four banger.

i loved this little race car and it captured my imagination with its big red wheels and tires, dual exhaust, roll bar, checkered flag on the front and the driver's classic 3/4 open face helmet. and this wasn't a man driving, it was a kid! it was me.
we packed it up and brought it back with us and i do seem to remember playing with it here, but as with all things i moved on and it disappeared. so many childhood things got donated over time to cousins and the children of my parents friends. and then one day my mom went to clean out a storage space unit and asked if i wanted to come and see if there was anything that belonged to me. there in one of the soggy boxes was the little race car - eleven. a gift from the past. i recently watched john frankenheimer's "grand prix" and was reminded how beautiful this era of auto racing was. it has all but slipped away now, but the memories live on through my little eleven. (oh and yes, i did learn to read) happy friday.

ride your bicycle

the days have been a lot warmer around here this week and the break in winter storms makes it feel like an early spring. so yesterday i hauled all of the bikes out of the garage and began tuning them up. wrenches and screwdrivers, oil and grease. i'm no great mechanic, but i really enjoy doing this kind of work. i fired up the compressor to add air to the deflated tires and raised seats to accommodate growing legs. i added a water bottle holder to my wife's bike and straightened her handlebars. my kids even got out their paint brushes and stickers to further add to our tune up session and give their rides some added flair.
there is something simple and very satisfying in keeping your own bicycle running well. as a kid i depended on my schwinn daily to help me complete my paper route. when i had a blowout i'd just add another patch until the tubes finally split from wear. (stretch that paper route money)
my own bike still needs a little attention though and so later i went out for a ride on barbara's step through and got some chuckles from the kids sitting outside the 7-11. i just smiled and coasted on by.

love got...

love got broke
like sweet couple
hoofing it
down cold city night streets
stopping to look
at shop windows
threadbare but not forlorn.

love got bent
like dizzy’s horn
bouncing down hard stairs
until coming to rest
now twisted
but with beautiful new sound

love got beat
like blows received
from waking life
standing to take it all
until midnight’s hour
when shoes flop off
and bones go limp

(photo courtesy of big happyfunhouse)

listen to the sound
of my smoky voice as you
waft away your will.

some kid

i was going through a box of pictures the other day and came across the one above. i have no idea who this kid is. then i remembered finding it on a warehouse floor one day. i don't know why i held on to it except there is something familiar about this kid. judging by his hairstyle and the butterfly collar i have to think it's mid 70's.
he reminded me of all the kids i went to grade school with and i thought somehow maybe this guy had found his way into a forgotten memory. who knows, maybe i do know him. maybe we worked side by side and were never the wiser. or maybe he's already dead like kurt cobain. guess i'll never know.

you are not so old
programming designed for love
you are not so cold

american kokeshi

kokeshi are traditional japanese hand-painted wooden dolls whose origin goes back to the edo period. they are made with love and great care as each artist strives to bring their own unique style to these little representations. in fact in japan they sign the bottom of each one and they are usually handed down in families from father to son.

these little guys were recently produced by our little guys and were inspired by the joseph story in genesis. joseph had to suffer much before finally discovering God's ultimate purpose for his life. our little kokeshis aren't suffering too much though, and the little artists who produced them remind us that in true japanese sensibility the simplest joys are the richest.

just lounging around today...

mister know it all
he wears that broken clown crown
alone and betrayed

breathe in

after six months on the night shift i'm moving to days. i never used to be a day person, but i have missed it. when you live as the opposite piston to the rest of the world you start to feel disconnected, like you're breathing out as the rest of the world breathes in. i first noticed it going home one morning. the road crew was out. people everywhere on the streets in morning commute mode, coffee cups in hand. and i was just winding down. but there is tremendous solitude as you sit watch overnight while the world sleeps. a sense that you're all alone, that the entire earth is hibernating. and every once in a while you may cross paths with some other ghoul. at least i'm sleeping better, and in my new shift i'll still wake before the dawn, so i don't have to miss the sunrise. let's not miss it.

imagination
experience locked away
memories fuzzy

super

it all comes down to who wants it more...

hold the flag high boys
we'll all go down together
up on the ramparts

the milkman

does anybody remember milkmen? i sure don't. by the time i was pouring my own milk it had already moved from a daily delivered item with butter, eggs and newspaper to a refrigerated commodity in our local supermarket. someday i'll have to go do some research on what led to the demise of the nation's milkmen.
at any rate i don't think any of them ever drove a ride as cool as this. it's an old fossil watch tin that made its way into my hands from a friend who had just made the purchase of the watch. it used to sit on my desk at work and collect loose change from the taco truck that came around each day.
now i keep my very small coin collection in it. a couple of well drink tokens from dive bars, 50's wheat pennies, a canadian dime, subway token and bicentennial kennedy half dollar to name a few. yes, the milkman still delivers and he collects as well.

come to the back door
and don't forget to bring cash
i'll hand you the bag

trees

so if you take about 9000 pictures, one will occasionally turn out alright. we were up over donner pass last weekend where i snapped this one. i was pleased with the result. it's actually two shots that i stitched vertically. see if you can spot the line...

flower is youth
in endless routine we play
life is the sandbox

crazy

it's rent day again and time for sharing some new music. actually i'm not sure how you'd categorize this one. it's more like spoken word poetry rantings from a true madman with jazz accompaniment. from 1958 dot records' jazz horizon series this is ken nordine "son of word jazz".
there's so much that i love about this platter i could exhaust many lines in the telling. truth be told this is one of my very favorite records. in fact if you really want to know what i'm all about, you can just listen to this one over and over to get a better idea. however, it is definitely not for the faint of heart or the easily distracted. so let me just a little advice. i'm not saying sitting in a dimly lit room with a bottle of wine is absolutely necessary for listening, but it couldn't hurt either.
so split squaresville and hop on the train for groove central because cool daddy nordine and the chico hamilton jazz ensemble are warming up here.