Wednesday, September 14, 2011

The Days Of Pine.

The misty rain seeped through the hills, seeking children who are seeking thrills.
And the thrills they seek, are the memories you keep.

The Days Of Pine.
The Days Of Pine.

Follow the path off through the trees, warriors with sharp sticks and dirty tee's.
And the things they be, are the things you cannot see.

The Days Of Pine.
The Days Of Pine.

Well you don't know what livin' is till you've lived in the land, of darker woods, of radder tales, of the bravery of men. If I could quest to the clock of life and turn it back and then, maybe I- oh maybe I could learn to live again.

Line upon line, we all will find...
The Days Of Pine.
Those Days Of Pine.

The misty grove deep in the wood, taught you the things that none other could.
...In Otter Creek you'll find...

Those Days Of Pine.
The Days Of Pine.
The Days Of Pine.
The Days Of Pine.

The Days Of Pine.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m3aKSPaA1Pk&feature=related

Thursday, May 26, 2011

The Fires Of Enstrangment.

Where oh where to begin? Well it's getting hot now. Winter seems like a dream compared to the lucid sweat box I come home to after work. I'd rather bury my head in the open cavity of a pig carcass then sit around and melt on my livingroom couch. At least the cat would have something to lick up throughout the afternoon, if most of me dosnt drip down through the floorboard cracks. It's 7 pm and bright as Hells Hollywood outside. I spent at least an hour in the shower trying to freeze myself back to life...

Do you remember when you were young and sunday evenings seemed like "I Am Legend"? Or at least they did to me. The day was busy enough. Church in the morning, long social afternoons going to dinner parties, dinners at friends of the family, games with my sibilings. But once the dusk had really setteled in, The Twilight Zone began. A heavy, boring dim seemed to fall on all my loved ones as my parents pulled out big church books or went to take a "nap". My older brothers and sisters would scatter off to their rooms and lock themselves into their dens. Anyone my age or younger was still trying to stay active, but by the most horrible means possible. Puzzles on the livingroom rug, coloring books on the couch... generic church cartoons. So I had to choose two very hard things. To stay in the one room of the house with any sings of life and light, but bare the grueling choice of pastimes available... or face the wild and dangerous world of anywhere else. The house was dead and dark. Long shadows were the only sign of light left as the sun dripped down behind the tree line (which, in Otter Creek Maine, was REAL fast). The outside was even more so. Eerily too quite, and windy dark. Of course I chose the rest of the house and the world beyond, a love for adventure had been instilled in me from an early age through watching my brothers play computer games.... duh. The hallways became dark foreboding passages, and the rooms caverns lost to time. The outside held the greatest excitment. It seemd you didnt need to be more then a dozen yards from the front door to feel like you had gone MUCH to far from the house. It felt like even in suburbia there were lions, goblins, and all sorts of legendary evil lurking even as close as the driveway. Those were the times when I felt like my house, my neighborhood, my family, my LIFE had fallen into obscurity. And now sitting here in the bleached heat of my apartment, I feel like I did then when I was 6. Sitting around and staring into the lonely, dead, still water world around me. This difference is the heat. The similarity? My entire being at the moment seems to have desenced into obscurity. This time though, my father wont wake up from his nap at 10 in the evening and offer to make cookies or biscuits. My mother isn't going to finally get up and read a book to me and my brother. I'll just sit here and find cool parts of my bedroom wall to smash my bare body against (my desperado method for trying to cool down without getting into the shower again or waste the cool in my refrigerator). Maybe the people I hear talking to me are simply part of the trip your sure to get from sitting in a sweat box all afternoon. Maybe their the beginnings of my middle aged, white, American, male psychopathic symptoms? Maybe its just the TV?... maybe.

Well I'll sweep up a piece of kitchen tile real nice, try to see if I can broil some bacon on it. Feed it to the cat, and keep her tongue out of my innards when I drip down to a puddle on the sofa cushion.

Friday, December 24, 2010

Alpha-Omega and The Blueberry Gang.

That power so total and full of greed,
had finally commenced the awful deed.
And in his hands he had twirled,
the harrowing fate of my dear world.
And He, (being the start and end),
did doom to my brethren send.

And after my race had he made sod,
through their ashes he did trod.
And sat, triumphant, on his throne.
Two beds, high stacked, and white as bone.
And looking over my world he bade,
     "This light so bright. Be darkness made!"

So light did vanish, earth did wither,
no chirp of life, not even a slither.
Through every street, in every home,
dark did creep, and death was sown.
The only survivors did sit and weep,
for they had only their dead to keep.

But one was silent, and did not cry.
The last hope of man, stirred in his eye.
And in the dark he thought of when,
we would take our world again.
He called on brothers, and sisters to rise,
and battle the foe who brought our demise.

And from the caves of earth did creep,
a rebellion force, within the deep.
And out onto the field of battle,
with club, sword, stick, and paddle.
Fighting back for what they lost.
Saving the world at any cost.

The Omnipotent laughed at the force,
to be crushed with ease of course.
And from his throne he began,
to strike down with fire across the land.
Feeding his beast with strong a gale,
Engulfing the rebels in fiery veil.

But this did not yet stop their heart,
for they had not yet played their part.
Their leader pushed onward for his dream.
His might unmatched, his sword a'gleam.
But this tale has more dismay,
for one of the light did betray.

She crawled on off to join the power,
She fought against, that very hour.
For in her hopes she held a dream,
of being the darkest, highest queen.
And so the Master took her in,
and the end of the war did begin.

Now his eyes were everywhere,
had now a spy to do his stare.
Many a good soul was taken,
Ones left fought harder, and held unshaken.
And then it happened then and there!
The rebel leader jumped forth in air.

Raising up his sword he bade,
      "Dark thrown back, and brightness made!"
Enemy thrashed out to counter the blow,
and our hero, his blade did throw.
And the war grew pinnacle in that time.
And the sky slowly, let forth its shine.

In past the arm, that meant to block.
In through his heart it sent a shock.
The metal tip it did pierce,
the very heart of Him so fierce.
And the Dark then fell from his seat.
His strength so great!
Now was beat...

And so goes the tale, as they say.
And even now in this modern day,
I still remember way back when,
the earth was wild and dark back then.
And you people today, so carefree,
Living in a world given to thee.

Yes its true, I was actually there.
You couldn't tell, me here in this chair.
Old and wrinkled and full of dust.
My life most spent, my skin a crust.
But I remember, when the heavens sang,
of "Alpha-Omega and The Blueberry Gang"

Sunday, December 5, 2010

I Took A Ride On The Polar Express.

Waking up in the cold is the worst. No, starting over. Waking up in the cold with an obligation to leave your warm and toasty bed is the worst. So I did. Work at 11. Tip toe to the bathroom, steam it up, ruba-dub-dub. Dive cold and shivering into my work clothes and then take one last look at my freezing apartment knowing that before I open the front door this will be the warmest place I'm in for the next 2 hours  (my commute to work).
 Down the stairs and into the street. Everyone bundled up to the point of only being able to manage an Oompa-loompa waddle. Meanwhile I'm in a fall jacket with bare hands, thin slacks, and sneakers. My eyelashes click when I blink.
The Subway stairs gleam with sanctuary, the only way out of the wind. Then my 12 second wait in line through the turnstile and there I wait for my train in the terminal. The first of 4. Commutes to work in the morning in NYC are downright sad. Millions of people waiting for their trains down in the terminals. You can see those who have lost themselves to their work, buzzing away on the cell-phone and reading over clip boards, completely stressed and unhappy with the job they do so well. Then there are those who you can plainly see do the scum of the earth work. The wear and tear is easy enough to spot. Laundry women, construction workers, dock workers, garbage men. Then theres MY class of the workforce. Bussers, doormen, cab-drivers, store clerks. Restaurant host... All of us thinking of the same thing though. Is this it? Is this life for me? Will I be staring at the clean shiny rails rise out of the wet, grimy, sludge filled subway tracks for 5 minutes waiting for the G train to drag me to my job every morning for the rest of my life? Those thoughts interrupted by the brakes throwing you and everyone else off balance. Then the battle to get upstairs to the connection hall from the G to the E & M first so you can be able to use the escalator walk before anyone else. Which everyone participates strongly in, whether they would admit it or not. The terminal waiting for the E or M at Ely Ave in the morning rush hours is possibly the most stereotypically depressing "working poor" vista anyone could peer out over. Thousands of people crammed up against each other waiting for their train. Its sad. Quiet. Those thoughts coming back stronger then ever. Is this it?
But today as I waited with my working brothers and sisters, something very unexpected happened. A train pulled up. But it wasn't the M. Or the E. It was a pitch black train, with a flat top. Not cold and stony with sleek dips and curves. But sharp edges with fat bolts lining the corners. And it pulled to a loud screechy halt in front of the quiet and now very puzzled crowd. Is it a work train? Is it one of those trash trains that go by during the late night hours? But its rush hour. And it stopped? Are those people inside behind the windows? Yes there were. And when the doors opened and to let us in we still didn't make the slightest move. A conductor dressed in a vintage 1950's train employees uniform leaned out of the last car and yelled "SAAAAME AS THE M TRAIN! NEXT STOP--- LEXINGTON AVENUE!!". 3 thousand people with dropped mouths held onto their brief cases and coffee cups while they stood and stared at him. Still motionless. He only looked slightly amused before adding "ALL ABOOOOOOOORED!" You've got to be kidding me? We all broke out of our trance and made like little kids entering the play ground at McDonald's. The interior wasn't white and cold, lit by long blurred panels, like a normal train. But lit by actual light bulbs lining the ceiling, filling each car with a warm orange glow. Ceiling fans hung up in the center of the cars ceiling. Springy fat couches with red leather upholstery lined the walls in place of the cold plastic benches that normal sat in their place waiting to flatten out our rears.  In place of the Viagra and HBO adds that cover the high parts of the walls were Cola and Dapper Dan. These and just about about everything else on the train was different. Inside a man stood in each car explaining how things worked with the subways in the 50s and 60s and pointed out funny or quirky details. But hardly anyone sat around to listen. Everyone's face literally was lit up with a grin, even the old, bent businessmen ran with the others from car to car whipping out their cameras with everyone else. People calling friends about it, everyone taking pictures or video, bouncing on the springy couches, reading the adds, asking the older people on the train about how it was when they were a kid. And the old people in return excitedly retelling memories about how things use to be, flashes of nostalgia across their expressions as they gazed over the trains inside. It broke down halfway to Lexington and took close to 20 minutes to get working again. A 20 minute break down during rush hour? Any other day that would have people shouting for blood. But not today. That only meant more time to forget their troubles, the slaving job ahead of them, as they pranced around their playground, their ghost train. All that was missing was a conductor walking through the aisles with trays of hot coco.
As for me? I eventually sat down and stopped looking at the train, but the people in it. Wow. How very different. Excited, happy... interested. Well I had to hand it to The Big Apple. It had done it this time. And on this particularly sad and cold morning I had already passed some very final and (now I can see) very ignorant judgment. If there's one thing this city is good at, its making things happen. Someone had a neat idea. And they went for it, and it happened. Hey! Lets take one of our old trains from the 60s and dress her back up. Have a few good boys pop the hood and make sure shes up to it, then run her for a weekend or something. Give people something to see. Something different.
Well that's why I'm here isn't it? I had an idea and now I'm trying to make it happen. That's why I brought it to the city. THIS city.

Thursday, November 25, 2010

A Thanksgiving Letter (to my brother)

Dear Sam,
 If you didnt eat all you possibly could...
 If you didnt decimate your entire plate...
 If you didnt cram mama' Lou's good ol' cooking down your happy fat throat...
 If you didnt lick up every taint of purple cranberry sauce on your plate and bread crumb off your napkin...
 If you didnt shove the elderly mercilessly on to the ground and small children out of your hungry, rampaging path when going for seconds, thirds... eighths...
 If you didnt stare that turkey leg in the eye with your battle fork and knife in hand and tell it in your best Clint Eastwood voice, "It's goin' down. A'yippy-kai-yai-yay..."...
 If you didnt gnash, growl, and fight over the buttery rolls as if they were the secret to life...
 If you didnt conquer enough chow to have to drop trow...
 If you didnt leave the pie scene similar to a Hiroshima aftermath...
 If you didnt eat mashed potatoes till it came out your nose and ears like your head was a play-dough factory...
 If you didnt stuff stuffing until you ripped lightning and crapped thunder...
 If you didnt eat like some type of savage wild animal, like you just got out of a 4 hour school seminar, like your soul purpose was to disgust those who sat next to you... as if the whole wide world was about to explode and the only way to save it was to jack-ram fodder into your skull hole like Mr. Bumstead himself...

Then you must be crazy. Because all I'M having for thanksgiving is a load of PB&J's... all by myself... because thats all I can afford to eat and I feel some moral obligation to eat a large amount on the afternoon of that day....

So yeah. Happy Thanksgiving bro!
---Love--- Jake

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Unforgettable Movie Scenes.

So here's some unforgettable movie scenes, whether they be funny, touching, uncanny at pulling you in, or just plain epic.
 (There is no specific order, I'm just listing them as they come to me.)

-The singing on the beach with a ukulele scene from "The Jerk"

-The scene from "Lord Of The Rings" where the signal for aid from one kingdom to the next is being lit.

-The scene from "Whats Eating Gilbert Grape?" where Gilbert calls Arnie down from the water-tower by talking through the megaphone and saying "match in the gas tank, boom boom"

-The fight scene between Sam and that black dude in "Inception" where the hotel room is spinning inside his dream, inside his dream of him sleeping in the back of a falling van.

-The scene in the "Matrix" where Neo is in the hallway with the 3 agents at the end and finally "figures it all out".

-The scene in "Back To The Future" where Marty McFly plays Johnny B. Good.

-The scene in "Jurassic Park" where the T-Rex thrashes the last of the raptors and lets out his roar for the last time as the banner falls from the ceiling and around its massive body (always gives me goose bumps)

-The scene where Quigley is left for dead in the desert and shoots that dude off the wagon as he is trying to get away in "Quigley Down Under"

-The scene in "Silverado" where Jake steps out of the saloon and calls "hey!" to the 2 bad guys right before he shoots them.

-The part in "Ace Vantura: Pet Detective" where he is told that his future clients are prepared to pay him 60,000 dollars to take the job and he comes out of his meditation saying "reeeeeeeeeeeeeee-heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeealy?"

-The "It's not your fault" scene in "Good Will Hunting"

-The scene in "The Fugitive" where he jumps off the dam.

-The scene in "Man From Snowy River" where he goes off the edge of the drop with his horse. 

-Where in "When Harry Met Sally", Harry says, "And once you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible!"


(add more later)

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Inner Cloister

Had I gone by day, instead of by this black night?
Well it might have turned out right.
But this life is not about my could-have-dones or would-have-beens,
or where my conscience ends.
And now when the sun rises on this open hall,
with skeletons and ghostly vats, this gray and hellish skull...

And this Inner-Cloister hurts.
Cold pains, achin' dry. Gone open azure sky.

I'v paid my prices, pondered my vices, this hero life is...
still without a mind.
And should it be how the songs say?
With matted eyes, butched coats, makes they---
part of my kind?

And this Inner-Cloister hurts.
Cold pains, achin' dry. Gone open azure sky.

Hope to all! Hope to all! Because all summer gives way to fall.
And I had never seen the snow, and the water thrashed and the wind did blow.
Heeding their ancient call...