Monthly Archives: April 2021

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A Little Nostalgia With No Apologies

I go back to a place in my mind where I keep memories like colored photographs of times when we were all together. God, I miss so many people.
It has been years since we’ve all sat at the table as a family. I miss those times but years have gone by. No wait, it’s been more like decades. Apparently, life happened along the way. A few of the chairs became vacant. Some people moved away. Some tried their luck on the other side of the country. Some passed and left an empty void, which could never be filled.

I like to think about the times when we were all together. I like to think about the family get-togethers that no longer happen. I swear, these were good times. In fact, they were the best times and some of the only memories I have of my family.
I have pictures of these get-togethers somewhere. I keep them all in a crate with boxes of little doodads from my early childhood. There are pictures of me when I was a very young boy. I used to be pretty cute too. However, I keep some of those pictures hidden of course because some of them are certainly blackmail material.

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Operation Freedom

What is a victory? What does it mean to win, to triumph, to overcome or rise above? Or wait, no. I have something better in mind. What does it mean to be at a level of awareness in which we have achieved a sense of both understanding and achievement without the contradictions of a win or lose mentality?
At this point, we can realize there is no opponent. There is nothing against us but our needless contraptions of thought, which are only imaginary. Besides, even if our imagination was real and something or someone was against us: So?
What would it look like to see life without the complications of adversaries? There is no more win or lose. There are no more rejection-based systems that hold us to the fires of judgement. The internal committee adjourns and the internal conflicts come to an end. There are none of the old diatribes or inner-criticisms. There is only internal and personal freedom.
Imagine?

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So, You Like To Eat Do Ya?

This one comes with a warm sentiment and the kind that comes from the purest station of the heart. I will offer this before moving on, in the toughest times, there is something called comfort food. And there is a lesson here to be learned, which I’ve learned this gratefully. And here’s how.

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As For the Clichés . . .

Everything happens for a reason. Or, so they say. And I’m not sure what I think about this. I know this is a good way to look at things. Maybe this helps us make sense of something that makes no sense at all. Rather than accept the unfortunate cadence of life, we come up with sayings that help us answer for the unanswerable. Or, perhaps, this is better than contemplating the hard facts of life.
Something bad happens or something tragic and there’s nothing else to say except this, “Everything happens for a reason.” Or, there is an adverse way of looking at this. Others have said this to me as well. Instead of saying everything happens for a reason, what if we came to the understanding that there is a reason why everything happens. 

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Notes From the Heart: About the Writing

I am more than where I come from. I am certainly more than my past and more than my future. I am like you or anyone else in this world. I am a series of different chapters which open and close no differently than the daily sun that rises each morning. I am more than this too and yet, I am simply just me. I understand this. I tried to attack the ideas and identify the mysteries about myself by writing out my thoughts. I did this to feel better, which at first, I worried too much about the world around me and the interpretation of myself. I worried about my education or the lack thereof. A writer? Me? Could I ever be? Or more to the point, could I ever be anything more than what I was?

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Notes From the Heart: A Boy and His Dog

There is nothing like the relationship with a dog. There is never a question whether I’m enough or not. I never smell too bad. I always look perfect. I swear, my dog knows when something is wrong. He can tell when I’m sad or hurting or if something is not right with the world. And he sides up to me. He sits next to me as if to say, “I’m glad you’re here.”
I have heard people doubt the connection between a person and their dogs. I have heard people say, “It’s not like they’re human,” and no, my dog is not human. Besides, humans aren’t as loyal. 

I have a dog. He is an old dog and the last of the original three. He is my special boy and we named him Brody. And Brody is 14 to be exact. His hips are bad and so are his knees. 

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Note to Self: The “Why” Behind the Question

There is a question that has been asked and pondered upon by countless writers, poets and artists alike.
What have I done?
This question poses an honest look at life. And I mean real life. What have I done?
What did I do and why?
The question is simple enough. What have I done?
But understanding the question is not the answer. However, to answer the question we have to understand the “Why” behind the question itself.

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Now is a Good Time to Live

I urge you now, please. This thing we have and these moments we share are only fragments of time. They are small yet valuable. Every minute we have is priceless. Life is invaluable but yet, life is this short little atom of space and time. Nothing more. 
And life? All of this is only a version. This is only a vision. Me, you, the trees outside and the mountains behind my home. The city and the landscapes, the views, the birds in the sky, the sea and the valleys; everything is only a vision. 

I urge you, please.
Think clearly. Put down all the common distractions we cling to. Let go of the useless arguments. Release the pettiness, and the inaccurate assumptions, which are nothing at all. None of this is anything. All we are is all we have, which is this moment and the here and now.

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From the Junkie Stories: Just a Story

The name of the town was Deposit. I remember the name well because to me, the name was almost repulsive. Who the hell would ever want to live in a town called Deposit?
I never heard of this place before. Then again, I never heard about most of the towns in this area. There were like tiny little compartments of different places that were left behind in a time warp. I saw them as little mountain towns, like something from a Norman Rockwell painting with farms and barns and fields with cows.
The fashions up there were different to me, which is not to say that I was fashionable by any means. But still, everything about the little towns seemed behind.
Besides, I was used to New York City and the Five Boroughs. I was brought up in a crazy Long Island town but at least there was action. At least I was close to what I thought was the pulse of life. I went from this to institutional life. Then I eventually moved to farm life for a long-term stay.

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Can You Believe It’s Been a Year Already?

I am thinking about this time last year. I was in the City, which was empty. The stores were all closed and the streets were like a ghost town. Within my time in this world, I have never seen New York City like this. Shut down. Boarded up, as if World War III dropped the bomb on us all.
I walked across 3rd Avenue in the middle of the business day. There were no cars. There were hardly any pedestrians in sight. Again, this was like wartime. We were quarantined. People were running out of toilet paper and there were restrictions at the supermarket.
No one expected this would last as long as it has. No one thought the virus would kill so many or keep growing. There were second waves, third waves and supposedly a fourth wave too. Only, it was strange to me because it seemed like none of us have recovered from the first wave yet.

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