18 New Haikus

Down to one eighty,

nothing to be that proud of. 

Misery eating. 

Red-faced in mirror,

memories of cactus spine

lodged deep in my foot. 

There are many days,

all come and go and pass by. 

Yet, some stick with you. 

Way too much of it. 

Blasting eternal Fridays

blend into next days. 

Faulty wiring

like fireworks, off and on. 

Blinking and reeling. 

Imaginary

streets populated with ghosts

All just drifting by. 

She is an echo,

such as she always comes back

in explosive ways. 

Avenues for miles,

all leading to my dark heart

lacking a crosswalk. 

Many addresses,

all home at one point of time. 

Never really home. 

They are passing by.....

cars, meteors, people, deer. 

Pausing for a min. 

At a coffee shop,

Crying woman to my right

absorb all her pain. 

Unabashedly 

and listlessly reeling on. 

Time is suspended. 

Dying to feel it. 

Weightlessness and lost spinning. 

Abandon control. 

Topsy & turvy,

to be surrounded by kids. 

So much kind laughter. 

And they have reached out,

only to pull far away. 

A heart demolished. 

Movies about boats. 

Utter sea devastation. 

A man left alone. 

Dreaming of ocean

or another vast expanse

to soak all away. 

Rush water on me,

Running water doesn't work, 

not at all cleansing.  

Family

So that is my mother.  Beautiful.  Young and vibrant.  Yet, she had such a dark past.  She was beaten by a drunken aunt underneath a kitchen table once.  I recall a big fight we had in high school when she pulled that card….."Well, at least you weren't beaten by your aunt as a child…"  Those were the last words I heard as I stormed out of the house as an angry 16-year-old boy.  Can't recall exactly what I was angry about.  Yet, was angry nonetheless.  That is an undercurrent in my family.  Anger.  My sister has a case of it, I have a case of it and it never really seems to subside when you need it to.  But, that is family.  You know each other and you know how it ebbs and flows.  You know when to take a break from eating at each other and you know when to dig in.  Somehow, you just know.

I'm leaving out a picture of my father for a later post.  It's creepy how much I look like him.  Yet, I am very different from my father, but the same in ways, I act like him and don't want to die like him….heart attack with newspaper in hand (I still get the daily paper, subscribed, and never thought about that until now), and found in between the front door and the main door of his house.  I'm leaving out his photo for now because I'm at the point where I remind myself too much of him.  Everyone loved him except for his wife, my mom.  Yet, they were 16 years in the marriage wormhole.  My father punched a huge hole in the wall when my mother spoke of leaving him.  Never thought she would, I guess.

And this is me, just a little over a year ago.  Happy as a lark.  Really, really happy.  Yet, this darkness crept in.  Could that be my father?  My mother's father running through my veins (he straight up abandoned her after she was born)?  Could it be our inability to make a child when everyone else around was able to do so?  Could it be drinking too much?   These are the questions that swirl and swirl, tilt and whirl around my mind when I get to the concept of family.  I keep on swinging back to the idea that my family was too fucked up to let me experience one of my own.  That, in a weird way, or not weird at all, I'm not supposed to plant a seed in this world.  My family's soil is too tainted, the earth too broken in our veins of life, to make anything grow.  And with that idea, I will crash.  Wondering what exactly it is that makes me fail at being a father I'm not even allowed to be, a husband who can't even be given the chance to work on his faults.

My definition of family is not what it is supposed to be.  It is defined as temporary and that……..sucks.

The Long Journey (Brooklyn to Montauk) The End

The beginning of this last and final entry is lacking a photo to start, as there were few chances to really stop and the sky's light was fleeting….but there is photo porn at the end.  It was getting closer and closer to darkness and  the ability to see the road was going to wain.  The time was slipping away and really didn't want to be on the road that late.  As posted in an earlier portion of the blog, I was pissed I had slept in, but if I hadn't a lot of the meaningful parts of this trip wouldn't have occurred.  So, I rode past Hampton Bays, which was the last photo of the earlier Montauk entry….blue skies, filled with grey and white patches of cloud and then onto South Hampton, which according to my GPS was about 97-98 miles and just about under 8 hours.  There are these Indian reservations all along old Montauk Highway selling cheap cigarettes.  I pull into one, asking for a pack of American Spirits.  They don't sell them.  I move on.  For the ENTIRE ride, I hadn't passed another person on a bike and then see this kid in front of me.

For my life, I felt as if I must catch up to him.

"Hey man, how are you?"

"Good.  You?"

"Good, too.  Where are you riding from?"

"Brooklyn."

And that is the first what the fuck moment of the ride.  Another comes shortly after that.  So, meet this kid, Matty, from Brooklyn and he becomes this inspiration in a way.  He is 24, young as shit on a fixie on his way out to Montauk keeping a 16mph pace.  My god, he was like an angel from heaven.  I felt as if I were slowing down……getting tired…..just pedaling.  But, this kid coming from the same place, doing the same ride I was, was exactly the jolt I needed….on a single speed fucking bike no less!

We got to talking while riding, hit some hill in East Hampton and right before that happened, he asked me where I was originally from.  I told him Pittsburgh.  The guy is from the same fucking place.  Really?  Pittsburgh.  Amazing and surreal blood begins to flow through my veins.  It didn't matter if I had a hotel booked or not, this shit was happening.

And, to not go into exposition, the conversation Matty and me had was beyond amazing.  He showed me photos of his work.  Incredible!

So, we keep riding to Amagansett.  He has some work that he wants to show to a gallery owner out there.  I carry on.

From Amagansett to Montauk is still another 11 miles.  Again, I wish I had a photo, at least one.  But it was about 6:00 or so then.  Sun setting.  Miles to ride.  On and on, beautiful landscape, focusing too much on pavement as the sun is now down to really focus on it.  My phone was down to 1% battery.

Dark now.  Really dark.  There is a crossroads on Rte. 27.  Old Montauk Highway or Rte. 27.  I turn to my left, 27.  Climb a crazy hill.  My headlight on my bike was dying.  No phone to see where I really am.  Climbing, climbing, climbing.  That hill was great at night.  I couldn't see its height so it didn't ruin me.  So, get to the crest and it's awesome riding, rolling, dipper hills....  Then after a few minutes, I look to my right and see all of these lights.  Should I have stayed on the old road?  I panic.

Stupidly, I turn around and go back down the hill, get on the other road and take the long ass, scary, nowhere ride on Old Montauk Highway into town.

Upon getting to the circle of Montauk, I am exhausted. Spent.  Done.  Such a shitty detour.  I search my pockets for the original cue I had.  Gone.  Back pocket, panic.  Left pocket, panic……no idea of the exact name or address of where I'm staying as it was all on that sheet of paper.

All I knew is that is was Kenny's?????something?????Inn????

I got directions, was told it was "about" three miles away on the harbor and up a hill.  Fuck.  Another hill.  As I was climbing the last ascent of the ride, my arms were incredibly wobbly.  My dying front light was splayed across the road in such awkward directions.  Exhausted, and kinda like Alien, a new fear set in.  Deer.  Every car behind me displayed them.  Silent to my right.  Scary shit, actually really scary shit.  Alas, the final descent and then the hotel.  135 miles or so, 10.5 hours.

The rest of the trip looked like this (the last photo is Matty from PGH, a bit of a knucklehead, but a rare one) :

Passed Through:  Southampton, Water Mill, Sagaponack, East Hampton, Amagansett, MONTAUK!

Heavy Rotation 11-2-13

It isn't often one comes across an album and thinks Jesus, this is beautiful.  Luckily, this gem of a record was discovered by yours truly this weekend.  As of now, I've listened to it seven times today.  It has turned out to be a great companion piece to this week's second selection in this entry.  But, we'll get to that later, as it deserves its own space.  This, Mutual Benefit project is amazing.  Most remarkable is that the kid who made it is a 25-year-old named Jordan Lee.  As I get older, 14 years removed form a 25-year old-life, I become more and more amazed by what kinds of music these kids are capable of making.  Moreso, this young kid has created a consistent atmosphere.  The songs feel extremely cinematic and intimate in nature....like you've been there before.  They are layered and layered and linger far after they end.  Usually, someone has to go through some life shit to make music like this.  As of yet, I haven't done much research on Jordan Lee, yet the lyrics and sound make me think he had to have gone through something to be able to develop and nurture these compositions.  Hotels are mentioned and I wonder how he knows them so intimately.  Why was he staying in one?  How can the sounds surrounding the words make you feel as if you are really there with him?  It is all based on atmosphere.  Spooky, yet hopeful.  I wouldn't be shocked if this becomes my favorite album of the year.  Looking forward to listening to it with all the lights off and a candle burning.  Not there yet, but pretty close.  It would only enhance its beauty and simplicity of even how it is recorded.




Finally, there is this...

Pat Noecker is someone I am proud to know.  He explained Transmissions in A and E to me a couple of times, but the concept was so abstract and hard to envision.  I couldn't really "see" it.  The outcome is phenomenal, rich and filled with surprising sonic textures.  Although this obviously wasn't released as a recording, the video proves there is a way sound exists and it can change our environment through its complexity.  Pat controlled the initial sounds through his iPhone.  That is something I greatly respect about this project.  It is experimental as shit.  And that brings me back to the first sentence about this piece and about this work.  I feel like Pat took risks to make this happen.  Of course, it was practiced to an extent, but it is still an experiment in sound and a magical one at that.  I'm not going to give that much away, as it needs to be seen and heard  to fully appreciate it, but here is the concept in a nutshell: Pat played the tone/note of A through an app on his phone, looped it and then had 11 other instrumentalists meet the key.  Instrument after instrument, adding to the layers of a consistent and solid sound to a pitch.  Later, this same concept is repeated in E.  Amazing.

His tumblr/blog is here and it is a good read: Pat's blog

The Long Journey (Brooklyn to Montauk) Part II

Part of the rationale of this long ride was to get out of my head.  As of late, my mind has been contaminated in unexpected ways.  Riding is that opportunity to get out my mind and just not think for an extended period of time.  The repetitive action of pumping the pedals, pulling your legs back up then thrusting them down again becomes all that matters.  The repetition and knowledge of traveling distance is cleansing.  It is, if only momentarily, healing and being 60 miles away from home was lovely as well.  Montauk was getting closer and reaching the destination became all-consuming.  That was all there was to focus on.  

And that is where I left off a few days ago.  Patchogue was surprisingly cool.  It is a town I plan to revisit in the future and maybe get to know a little better. The time at this point was about five after three in the afternoon and needed to cover some major distance.  This was when the very important aspect of continuing moving without stopping became all important.  There was major distance to cover and it was getting late.  The idea of catching the sunset out there was becoming more and more fleeting and seemingly impossible.  That was okay at this point.  I paid for a hotel room out there, so refused to eat the $140 that cost.  I was going to get there, but stopping would have to become something I did very little of.  There were also friends who went out to surf in Montauk and I really wanted to see them there.  They were these secret motivators to ensure I completed the ride.  Nichole is a co-worker of mine and her husband, Justin, celebrated his birthday the day before.  Seeing them in such a different context would be amazing.  So, they deserve a major shout out for being silent enablers to keep me moving along the highway.

The air out on Long Island changed.  Even though there was a constant flow of cars to my left, the sea was to my right and although I could't really see all that much of it at this point, you still knew it was so close.  25 miles later, I reached the town of Quogue.  I hadn't been there in more than ten years. I recalled an inn I stayed in that was right on the water, but cannot remember the name of it for my life…..  It was beautiful and quite surreal.  My companion and I arrived there after work and quite late on a Friday night.  There was a note left for us explaining how to find our room.  There was also this gigantic hound dog, with humongous, floppy ears and massively overweight.  His eyes were bloodshot. He pretty much lived on a beer diet and I find that to be extremely depressing now, but back then I thought it was kind of romantic.  The owner placed a beer tap at the check-in desk and it was to be consumed on an honor system of paying something like two dollars a pint.  I'm pretty sure I was extremely dishonorable.

The next town was Hampton Bays and the road hugs the water and your lungs are filled with salt water air and it feels great.  Seeing towns with "Hampton" in their names became another major boost.  You just know you're getting closer, but just not close enough.  But, you know you're getting there and you're feeling invigorated even with a drastic headwind blowing against you.  Man, the wind on most of the ride was working hard against me.  At times it felt a bit defeating, like the earth itself was rooting against me.  Perhaps, that is just my self-defeating mind frame these days, but those crazy, asinine thoughts worked their way back into my mind.  The thoughts don't truly go away, but they are kept at bay for hours at a clip.  But, like flies to shit, they make their way back and need to be pushed out again.  Alas, the pedaling continues and you keep on going……….

Areas passed through:  Bellport, Brookhaven, Shirley, Mastic, Moriches, East Moriches, Westhampton, Quogue, East Quogue, Hampton Bays.