Sudden Words

Wrote down yesterday, what I thought was a great line that had suddenly come to me, to use in one of my attempts at poetry.

Looking at it now and wondering what the thought process was. 

"It wasn't the time for artificial senility now that reconciliation was close."

How did I want to use it?  

Is there more to come from it?

Was I half asleep when it materialized, and I thought it was such a revelation?

What's the meaning or idea behind it?

I've tried but have since been unable to add depth to it.

Maybe tomorrow or next week or next year? 

Some things take time and space for clarity to develop.

So, I'll hold onto it and see what happens. 

I probably have at least two dozen such notes just waiting for their time. 

I don't think of them as brilliant or revelatory or anything, but just maybe might lead to something. 

Maybe to assist in clarifying my world ..... or telling my story.

Caught rising as they were readying to assume their position of observation in the trees. It was a moment of almost frenzied activity. As if they were all being called to join. 

I think these are cormorants. 

Grumpy Old Man

At work this morning and a guy from night shift stuck his head into the office and asked if, "the grumpy old guy is here today?"

Hey!! I'm over here!! I fit that description.

But he wasn't looking for me. 

I love the half hour before the rain begins to fall.

When you can feel the winds pick up and the changes in the air.

I don't know if I'd call it the 'calm before the storm' .... it's not like nothing's happening in those moments.

You could be without sight but still sense the change happening.

There's a sudden cooling freshness moving around.

I don't know if it's a universal truth or a Pacific Northwest thing.

You experience it enough and you can begin to feel the rain, still somewhere in the distance but approaching. 

The major issue with taking days off from work is that it disrupts my routine.

Most of which I don't give a rats azz about but I've become so routine bound and found a comfort zone with taking my BP meds right before I go out the door in the morning and on days off it will be 1:28pm and I'll suddenly realize that I totally spaced it off for that morning.

And I'll be like: "Oh Shit!!!"

And I don't like to be like that in my old age.

This was taken at sunset a day or two ago. I keep looking at it. It may be one of my favorites. To me, it's saying that summer is over. The geese flying about overhead are more numerous. They know that they are headed south soon. The heron's reflection feels lonelier. Transition is taking place.

Old School Grapes

A post-work drive to the local farm market. 

Picked up some old school green grapes, not the steroid enhanced grapes (seemingly & allegedly) that you see in all the grocery stores.

I had thought them a thing of the past until discovering their existence here.

A taste and biting texture remembered and savored from my youth.

Or at least from before someone had the thought that making everything bigger was better.

And also added a slab of peanut butter fudge to my shopping cart.

It's not quite mom's fudge but it's yummy in its own way.

Now I know what to expect in heaven.

Hoop Dreams Again

Wow!! A basketball playing dream. 🏀

It's been a while.

Why am I never 68 years old in my dreams?

Wanting to impress a female friend who was watching.

(Not sure who but I have a guess.)

A high-level game ..... mid-game slipping into a different gear.

Playing defense with cat-like reflexes.

Suddenly realizing that it was how I could impact the game. 

Running the court with bottomless amounts of energy.

Constantly in the passing lanes!!

Snagging passes out of mid-air with one hand .... catching it like it fit into my hand perfectly.

Quick!! Fast!! Sleek!! Lithe!!

Changing direction without stopping.

Becoming a defensive monster ..... The second coming of Scottie Pippen or Gary Payton amplified.

(All these guys these days that they label, "shut down defenders" are nothing like I remember those two.)

Who knew that I was capable? 😆

Just as suddenly, it was over.

What a dream!! 

Dreams apparently, don't always have to reflect realty.

The real me, would much rather take a jump shot than spend all that energy on defense.

And why do I always wake up before an ending is reached?

More This and That

 A lesson learned .....

Never buy ice cream when there is the potential for a great sunset on the drive home.

I was torn between detouring to take photos and getting the ice cream home to the freezer before it melted.

I love 1950's spilling into the 60's, bad Sci Fi movies. 

With actors never known for anything but parts in B-movies. 

And a $100 budget for special effects.

Best viewed late at night. 

Especially if they involve prehistoric monsters and birds, giant mutant spiders, evil robots, the moon, malfunctioning time machines or Martians.

But then what decent sci fi flick doesn't involve those things?

Sometimes it almost sounds like Alexa is copping an attitude towards me.

Like when I regularly respond to the morning alarm with "Snooze."

She doesn't seem to like my sneaking a few extra minutes of sleep.

Like she wants me to get out the door as soon as possible so she can have the place to herself.

Vacation Day

Got cleaned up 

Put on a rarely worn long sleeve shirt .... the shirt color shade of blue seen for a few brief seconds back in 2017 (I think it was) when we had the shadow of a total solar eclipse pass us.

Put on my man bracelet and watch, spread some styling gel into my existing grayish/brunette hair and spritzed myself with a few shots of designer cologne .....

.... and ventured out into the world.

It feels good to occasionally elevate myself above my usual exhausted slob just off work look.

I've been wondering what happens out there, Mondays through Fridays between 7am-4pm as I rarely see the streets during the morning and early afternoon hours beyond going to and coming home from work? 

I really need to take a few more days off.

Days off are needed therapy sessions

Saw a truck with Portland Trail Blazer vanity plates that read: NOMR3S .... a sentiment I partially agree with. 

These constant back and forth, 3-point shooting contests within each game is ruining basketball.

I've held that belief for two or three years now.

I think teams ought to be limited to five per quarter.

Then a panel of old schoolers can re-evaluate visual results and formed opinions and reduce further if needed.

But I digress.

I headed for the record store, bookstore and my favorite bakery. 

Greeted by the record/drum store co-owner who informed the part-time employee that whenever he sees me I get "a special discount."

I'm thankful to have earned the senior privilege in her eyes. 

Found a couple seven-inch punk vinyl records and a seven-inch, "Shout" by Tears For Fears."

Also found a couple full sized vinyl records .... one by David Friesen, an Oregon jazz acoustic bassist whose recordings I enjoy. I've never seen this one that I can recall .... even on Amazon. 

I love its front and back cover art/photo!!!

Only $3 ..... I haven't checked yet but I suspect for the price, that the vinyl might be a bit scuffed up.

Hoping to be wildly surprised though.

(Wow!! Besides a thumb print which should be easily cleaned, it looks like near mint condition.)

The fact that they had this record changes their status in my mind from a drum shop, dabbling in records, to the records and drums getting equal billing.

To me, there's few thrills that equate to flipping through bins of records and coming across something unusual like this.

At the bookstore, I found a collection of photos from east-European 1930's. 

At the bakery, a half dozen cookies.

Then took a little video of a small man-made waterfall to possibly be used in a video project.

That may be my new obsession ..... the making of bad videos.

Felt like a genuine human through all this, not the robotic 'Lost in Space' presence I've taken on of late. 

A question that came to mind: Why is thirteen called a "bakers dozen"?

Shouldn't thirteen be a customers dozen and eleven be a bakers dozen?

Back cover photo from the David Friesen vinyl that was stumbled across today while digging through bins.  A 1977 recording.

Box Score Beauty

This is why I've checked the baseball box scores since I was eight years old  ....

Shohei (I don't think I need mention his last name at this point) .... 6 for 6, 10 RBI's, 2 doubles, 3 home runs, two stolen bases ..... in one game!!

Never seen one quite like that. 

I guess that blows apart the old baseball wisdom about not batting a power hitter in the leadoff spot.

If I still received a physical newspaper, I'd cut out and laminate that one.

He's getting to be like the sum of Ichiro plus Hideki Matsui plus Sadaharu Oh squared!!  

I hope Dodger fan isn't disappointed if he goes 0-4 tomorrow.

Ichiro from May 2010. Photo taken from my seat behind the third base dugout in Seattle. 

We Have a Problem, Houston

I genuinely try not to be too negative in real life .... too snarky.

But sometimes it's difficult to resist.

And I don't deny my semi-sarcastic nature.

This guy on the phone with his girlfriend speaking of the need for beginning a gym routine and his frustration with his bodily condition.

I couldn't help but think .... "Gee, maybe the four giant size big gulps on your desk and the oversized cannister of chocolate covered cheese balls and other assorted snacks in your man purse are a contributing factor?"

Yes, four drinks!!

He had three ..... I took a photo and sent it to a retired co-worker. He ran an errand and returned with one more.

I don't claim to be anti big gulp. I had my share in my younger days but never four at once.

I don't touch the stuff now. 

And to be fair, one of them may have been a triple chocolate, whipped cream latte spritz with extra sugar.

I also thought: "Stop wearing your little shorty shorts and thinking you're one of us when we're all wearing freezer gear and spending half our time in a minus five-degree environment."

But I guess what annoys me most is the old man sounds he makes as he comes and goes, sits and rises.

He's 30-something!!

Hell, I'm an actual old man and I don't make any of those sounds.

Notes on These Later Years

I watched another sunset tonight.

Took in the autumn vibes swirling around me.

And made it through another day, body and soul intact.

I don't know what I once thought these senior years would be like.

I rarely have a day where I don't wonder about how much time is left.

Five years? Ten Years? Less or more? Tomorrow?

All those years where I wanted to speed up time and now I'd give up just about anything to slow it down.

To experience again some of the pleasures (and pains) of youth.

Or to feel like there's more out there than just wandering through these later years of a life.

Sometimes I'll catch a video or story about some sort of dire prediction for the future and I think to myself .... "With a little luck I'll be gone by then"

But I don't really want to be gone.

Sometimes being alive frightens me.

But all thoughts of someday being gone, frighten me.

Feels like the ultimate dilemma. 

Do people ever truly make peace with that eventual certainty?

These thoughts are accompanied by youtube audio of  'Thursday Afternoon' by Brian Eno ..... whatever unrelated music I was playing before just led to this and it feels appropriate .... Spacey, moody, floating above it all, no fear of falling.

I started an attempt at poetry about three weeks ago on this getting older thing.

Had what I thought was a good start and was making good progress when I came to a wall.

And I've been unable to continue since.

So I've been waiting ...... to see what comes next or if it's finished as is.

I've asked before ..... how do the real poets know? 

I read the comments on the Brian Eno video.

One person commented that his mother told him that he was born while this music played.

Imagine that!!

It reminds that my mom told me that when she was eight months pregnant, that she was hit by a train one dark and foggy night, demolishing all of the car except the seat where she (and I) sat behind the steering wheel. 

I took up photography around the time that I walked away from playing basketball.

I don't think I was aware at the time of the hole that was created and that photography would help fill it.

I've discovered an equal level of excitement and enjoyment.

This photo of a heron with the creek waters swirling around was one of my earliest efforts.  

Sunday Evening Sunset

Sunday evening autumn sunset. It was difficult, as always, to turn and walk away. If it wasn't for the necessity of darkness moving in, I might have never left. Because I'm never satisfied. But even more so, I'm always worried of what I might miss. And I'm always excited at what potentially lies ahead five or ten seconds down the line. And there's also that part of me that thinks I'm documenting each of these moments in the history of the universe. That seems like kind of a big deal in the way I look at my world and passing time. That exact moment will never be possible again and I only have that instant to capture it and prove that someone was there.

I was approached by a guy that wanted to share a bit of his writing. He handed a couple sample pages to me. Then as I saw his wallet appear and thought he was about to ask for payment, he instead pulled a $20 bill out and offered it to me to go on amazon and buy his book. I told him to keep his money and promised to read the gifted words.

It seemed like an odd (and slightly uncomfortable) way to generate some word-of-mouth or buzz for his work.

I mean, if he can afford to give people money to read his words, then why is he approaching a stranger?

Spend it on an advertising campaign.

I'd be more likely to check it out that way than I would be when made to feel suspicious and uncomfortable.

I will look at it eventually though I have this feeling that it will be above my intelligence level.

Or an effort to convert me to a cause or belief.

But I'll give it a chance. 

This was the second time recently where I've been approached in this same exact spot by a stranger wanting to share printed words with me.

And these guys just seem to appear out of nowhere. 

Like they were hiding in the bushes waiting for their moment. 

Do they think that causing wariness is a proven sales tactic?

So I'm feeling a little leery ..... like why are people just walking around looking for someone to intrude on their moments of enjoyment?

I don't go out the door thinking I need to be suspicious of anything that moves but I'm being pulled towards that attitude. 

Notes and Such

Just more notes and such that have been accumulated since the previous musings .....

• I had the jazz radio station on, and it was apparently the jazz-funk hour and there was what I thought was a perfectly timed synthesizer made sound in the music that I'd never heard before ..... came downstairs to discover that it was actually some hipster bird in the trees off my back deck, squawking in rhythm. 
• It sure is nice when you discover these little fixes for little daily problems that in your mind have become major life issues.
• The lady at the admittance table for the art fair asked me today if I was older than 55. 😀 How nice of her. 
• Today's fortune cookie: "You will be coming into a fortune." Sure wish there was an estimated date included.

Recent Acquisition

I recently bought this card on Amazon.

I don't know why it stuck out to me.

Never heard of the guy. There's nothing spectacular about the image. It's not an action photo.

Just your basic high school yearbook, smile and shoot type of photo while wearing a baseball uniform.

A 1958 Topps I think, though I'm not positive it's an original or reissue.

None of the glitter and shine of cards from the last 30-plus years.

Not even a Yankee.

Maybe I heard Joe Garagiola mention his name during a 1970's televised game and am responding to that on some subconscious level?

I was just browsing, looking at images, prices and ETA's .... ETA being huge with me.

I don't want to wait two weeks, or even two hours, for delivery of anything.

And I have a thing for cards from the 1950's and early to mid 1960's.

Perhaps because 1956-1964 were the first eight years of my life and I began following baseball with the 1964 world series (as I recall) .... so anything that still remains unknown from those eight years before the game became part of my world is fascinating to me. 

Or quite possibly because I'm still basically just a geek/nerd/dork?

So I looked at his MLB career statistics ..... the minor league numbers on the back of the card looked impressive.

His MLB numbers, not so much.

Fourteen game appearances, zero wins, two losses .... and ERA of nearly 8.00 (Yikes!) and a negative WAR number, which I assume is not good.

I don't care much for these new-fangled stats, like WAR, that became a thing long after my youth.

So maybe Joe G never mentioned him. 

Love / Don't Love

I love when I find another of these older books of poetry (1950's-1970's) published by Wesleyan Books.

Thinking of re-arranging one of my bookcases to have a shelf with only their works.

Consistently great book covers! Even greater words!!

Conversely, I'm not fond at all for when I hear a song that I don't much care for, and it ends up on a loop in my head for the next 24 hours. 

I want it to stop! I don't even know most of the lyrics. But it keeps playing.

And it usually takes some sort of crisis to distract from that auto-play state.

Not even a song that I love can play over or drown it out.

Current case in point .... That 80's Culture Club song, 'Karma Chameleon.'

It came to mind from some abyss and won't go away. 

It's Official .... At Least In My Mind

The transition to autumn happened tonight.

At least in my mind it did.

And I was there to 'feel' the moment .... the first autumn breeze.

I quietly celebrated the occasion. 

In the parking lot of a Walgreens.

There were times a year ago where I wondered if I'd see this moment.

So I'm thankful tonight. 

You can't plan for these moments.

When I was a teenager, I swear I once felt the moment that autumn transitioned to winter while I was picking up the greasy shed walnut pods in the backyard of the house I grew up in.

In my ongoing obsession with songs, today I've been listening to various versions of the song, 'Rogers Park' by Justin Townes Earle.

Remembering the night I saw him in concert in Portland.

I was a huge fan of his father but knew very little about JTE before that evening.

His talent was so blatant and obvious.

I wasn't sure at the time thinking it might just be his mannerisms, but I think his demons were on display as well. 

R.I.P.

Approach of Autumn

I gage the approach of autumn by the increasing number of fallen leaves to be swept daily from my deck.

And the feel of the night at 2am .... when it changes from wearing a t-shirt to the need for longer sleeves.

And the detectable cooling difference in the evening breeze.

I used to work nights and often outside. You can tell when the change occurs.

Almost the very precise moment if you are present.

And it's like there's a sudden urgency of summer trying to hang on just a little longer, resisting autumns intrusion .... or its subtle invasion.

This is ritual to me.

This is what I hope to survive to each year. 

It's what's now happening!!!

And again, I am very thankful.

The Bearded Man Chronicles

Three years ago (or was it two?) when I started a different position at work, I marked my newly found freedom by growing a beard.

It may be with me for the rest of my life. 

I'm afraid now of what might be revealed should I shave it off. 

Afraid of discovering senior years related advancing facial transformation and erosion .... saggy, loose skin, lines, age spots, etc. 

I used to think that I looked younger than my chronological age.

But I saw things starting to change ..... reacted with the beard .... and who knows now, what lies beneath.

I'm afraid of the possibilities.

And it was at this point in the 'Bearded Man Chronicles' where I dropped everything to go look at the setting sun. The smoke in the air from Oregon wildfires enhances the appearance of the sun. My camera cannot capture the scene accurately. 

Radical and Weird

I'm a well known rabblerouser with dangerously radical ideas.

Well maybe not so well known and I'd rather cause trouble sitting on my couch, listening to music as opposed to getting around in public'

And mostly my ideas are more weird than radical.

So, it's my idea that senior discounts ought to be universal and 50%.

I've paid full price since I was old enough to carry a wallet and pay my own way.

Over half a century.

If I want a filet-of-fish sandwich at McDonalds .... half price.

A vinyl record .... half price.

A $2000 zoom lens for my camera ..... one thousand dollars please.

Sunrise a few days ago. The beginning of another day. It never becomes ordinary, and I never fail to take notice.

This Old House

I drove by this place whenever I chose to take the alternate route home from work. Standing alone in a field, just a short distance outside of town off the old Portland highway. For years I drove by without noticing it. Then one day it was just there!! And after that I couldn't help but notice it. I became obsessed with it, stopping several times to take photos of the place from fifty yards away.

And now, they've torn it down. There's nothing left. Just a sign at the long entrance way that warns: "Absolutely No Trespassing." Why 'Absolutely?" Does that provide extra emphasis.in the warning? Does it imply danger?

I wondered if anyone lived there recently?

I wondered what it was like inside looking out during a storm?

I wanted to get more photos ..... with a dark sky behind it. And in the fog. During a downpour. With a fiery sunset behind it.

I noticed a pickup truck parked outside once but otherwise it always looked vacant.

I thought it was probably haunted. 

Was the sound of footsteps on its floors amplified?

Did strange sounds echo through its rooms and hallways at night?

What was its story? Who knows its history?

Who spent their life there?

The R-Word Again

It's getting more frequent ..... these moments each day where I think to myself: "I could just walk away from this right now."

I still don't think I could actually follow through but I'm thinking about it now.

That's a step closer than I was a few months ago.

"I could just turn around, walk to my car and go home."

Maybe I'll go through the motions tomorrow .... and see if I stop short and go back.

I still want to make it to fifty years in this place. 

And I have this goal of saying I was still working at age 70.