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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 10/27/2004 :  20:29:41  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
OK, So I don't know where we were, but here's where we are... It's 1978; George Washington
Bridge heading into Manhatten; Hal Galper, Jazz Penist
[I know alot of people like
pi-a-nist, but I know that the high flutin say penist so I can too] extraordinaire riding
shotgun.... He's the damn reason I am on this bridge at 3 AM when I have to go to work at
7 AM.... I was running an AutoPartStore then, it was before I had learned the scam, um,
the fine art of Reverending and actually had to work for a living.... Although Ralph and I
played pretty fine, too.... Yeah, Ralph was there[the Polar Bear, if you hasn't been here
before] and he was riding second shotgun in the back of my grey BelAir with the green door
[a long story] with a standup bass and a, thank God, really skinny black, bass player,
who, if I could remember his name then I really wasn't doin a good enough job of getting
messed up then and I was so I don't....
Hal had taken out his glass eye, on the bridge,
and was cleaning it and it was all I could do to keep the car on the bridge and at the
same time I knew that Ralph wanted to swat the back of his head to see if the other eye
would pop out.... I knew that's what he was thinkin and I could almost feel his paw comin
up when I pretended to stretch and smacked him right on his nose.... While the big baby
whimpered, I wanted to ask Hal about this little demonstration but I just kept driving and
thinking of the night we'd had.... We tended to burn the candle at both ends, the middle
out, outside in, any way you could burn, we burned.... We drank, we smoked, we did alot of
coke and basically made our parents proud not to know us...
Yeah, we had wives and
families,but it didn't seem to matter; all that mattered then was the night, the jazz, the
drugs, the CATS.... I met more jazz people in two years than I ever will in the rest of my
life.... Big ones, small ones, never wasses, soon to be's, suicides, movies, dramaqueens
and inbetweens.... So, of course, when Jackie, my high school buddy, who owned the bar
said he needed somebody to drive Mister Galper and Skinny Minnie into NYC, I put down my
straw and raised my hand....Ralph was back in the alley [he couldn't come in; I mean I was
white, but Ralph was really white, we didn't wanna blind anybody] doin that dance he was
Always doin and I came out and yelled ROAD TRIP and he just went nuts.... Tryin to fit
that bass and Ralph and skinny in that back seat was kinda like doin the Rubik's cube, but
as you know, when you are doin coke, Anything can be done.... So, we drop Hal off near
Times Square and take Minnie up to Harlem.... He says, now lock your doors, and get out, I
know you gots a Polar Bear, but you is the only two white things for miles....
GET OUT..... Driving back up the Hudson River with Springsteen on the 8 Track, I said to
Ralph, Buddy boy, what's it all mean, anyhow? And I never forgot what this big Buddha Bear
said,
Mean? Buckster, it don't hafta mean anything.... It just is..... It just is....
And
I said, Ralphie, are you mockin me because I'm a Christian and you're a Pagan, and doin
one of those, Enlightenment, I don't know what it means, lines? Oh, now and zen you have a
good time, but...................................

Buck, drive the car, listen to the
Universe..... and please, just shutup......

Thanks, Buddyboy, now and Zen, for all the good times and all the memories..... Wish
I knew where you were, now, wish I had BJ here to snuggle with on this cold night....
But
it is what it is, and it just is......
Rev Buckman
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andrew p
Firefly

USA
3934 Posts

Posted - 10/27/2004 :  21:33:48  Show Profile  Visit andrew p's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You tell 'em Preacherman...
tell it like it is/was!!

blessings...andrew

Edited by - andrew p on 10/27/2004 21:45:45
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  19:06:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
She is delivered by a black car with one suitcase and two packs of gum. To a place in the city. Italian family. Six noisy kids. The mother always screaming but never angry. Black cast-iron stove in the kitchen she lights with a long piece of straw. Smell of gas, garlic cooking. The father walked out every night after supper. Nodded to her in her private school uniform though she didn't go to school anymore. They walked to the Boulevard an hour away. Past the Park and the Cathedral. Past the markets with strung-up salamis and cheeses, glassy black and green olives in barrels, cookies that looked like miniature weddings and made the street smell of almonds. When she lagged, he didn't tell her to catch up. When he got to the place where she was to wait, he pointed. She stood in front of the restaurant and watched hotdogs turn on a roller grill. He went into the bar next door. He paid off or he collected. When he collected he bought two hotdogs with double Texas hot sauce. He handed one to her. He stopped at the farmers market and threw a crate of oranges up on his shoulder. An hour back. When he passed the Cathedral he made the sign of the cross. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, stern, like what are you waiting for? She crossed herself too. End of April. May. Early June. Sun in the sky every day a little longer. Nighttime not starting 'til nine. She liked it. She thought she'd stay there forever.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  19:07:29  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Reverend Buckman~
Was the bass players name Skeeter?
Keep drivin'.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  19:09:31  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"And there is a Catskill eagle in some souls that can alike dive down into the blackest gorges, and soar out of them again and become invisible in the sunny spaces. And even if he forever flies within the gorge, that gorge is in the mountains; so that even in his lowest swoop the mountain eagle is still higher than the other birds upon the plain, even though they soar"

Herman Melville
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  19:14:53  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Ailinn~

Skeeter was his last name...
Mo was his first..

Rev
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  19:23:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
When I lived in the Catskills...I couldn't sleep.
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2698 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  19:45:57  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I slept once, in the Catskills for 20 years...
When I awoke a man was standing at my feet...
He said, The answer is Washington,Irving..."

I said, The question is, "Who was the First President, Sam?"

I used to look at Sleepy Hollow from my bedroom window... This is our time of year...

Rip
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/28/2004 :  20:42:56  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Doves in the palm trees, mice in the ivy. Ghosts flying out from under the eaves. "Tell the truth," he says seeing everything. His shine and blue heart way. God knows we're trying. Running under hollow Heaven picking fig leaves on our way out of the Garden.
Taking my neighbor to buy curtains tomorrow. He is nearly blind. "Curtains?..." I say. He says, "Don't see more into this than there is." Oh-oh. A Lady waiting in the wings.
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Ron L.
Swinger

USA
675 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2004 :  10:24:50  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The Forest Service road is about 500
ft above the river on the south side.
It is very strange in this somewhat wild
area that there are occasional curbs on
the river side covered with green moss.

An occasional pickup stops but for the moment,
he prefers to walk. The sound of a boat drones
from below and some still carry the mail upriver.
This area of Oregon is a fisherman's dream and it's
easy to imagine Zane Grey in the 20's and Clark
Gable in the 40's casting for trout and steelhead.

The road has a broad canopy of unbroken growth. There
are alders with their Dalmation trunks on either side
along with firs that may go back thousands of years.
Ferns are everywhere. You can see and hear hawks with
their cries bouncing off the canyon. The time goes by,
neither fast nor slow. He has willed it that way;
fast enough to race the pain, slow enough to caress
her memory.

He thinks if he ever quits snoking, the thing he would
miss the most would be the actions that go along with it;
tapping the end, flicking the lighter as you cupped
your hands, and that first reflective drag as part
of your mind drifts with the smoke. He leaned against
a tall pine, looked down at the flowing majesty
and thought...it's really harder to cry
when you're smoking.

Edited by - Ron L. on 10/29/2004 10:26:22
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/29/2004 :  21:21:26  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
They wanted the "Quintessential Southern California Experience." Brother of a guy Stu was in the Army with over 35 years ago. Retired now. On a trip traveling the USA. From Rhode Island. "So let's not do beaches," they say. Okay. We just lost the essence of quin. Took them to the Escondido Library. To see THE celebrity, LC. LC for Library cat. Eight years old and there as long as we've brought the kids to Story Time. LC's social. Not aloof. Rolls her shoulders and acts like life's a bowl of caviar. Sleeps on the warm photo copy machine. Kids grab her tail and pull her whiskers. Wear her around their shoulders like a shawl. Carry her by her neck. Feed her cheese crackers (goldfish?) and sticky gummy bears. She's been snuck home a couple of times but always finds her way back to the stacks. Became famous for scratching a dog. No- because the dog's owner sued the Library and lost. LC has her own Fan Club. And because we're in harmony with our Karma ~AND~ we're wearing our special Beanie Propeller Protector hats, a movie crew was right there filming it all for posterity. "Doesn't get much better than this," Stu says with Cam up on his shoulders. Very nice people. Haven't been around little kids in a loooonnng, long time. Here's some handi-wipes for that peanut butter and jelly. "We LOVE your climate," he says. "Yeah, but the tarantulas are big as dinner plates, right, hon...and the ground moves a lot more than they show you on TV." (God loves this man.) Taking them to Old Town tomorrow. Near the Gas Lamp area in San Diego. Twenty-five miles from the border. Cold Margaritas. Hot spicy black bean salsa. Blue corn chips and guacamole. Strolling mariachis singing Rancho Grande. When they get home they'll write letters telling us how much they loved Mexico. Memory puts them there. Sunday it's make the popcorn, carve the faces, toast the seeds. (I was hoping to slide on that one. The seeds. A slimy mess.) "But, remember last year!!??..." Cameron does. Happy Trick-Or-Treating to all. Hocus Pocus.
PS: The tarp's still on the roof and we're waiting for Santa Ana.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/30/2004 :  20:21:41  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Words fall from his mouth far away
Eerily wise
Her heart leaves to go with him
Her hands too
A full moon on the rooftop
Broken Mercury
Look to history
The road traveled before
The same moon in the attic
The same salty stars on the stairs
The same stumbling boots on the Boulevard
Hearts breaking in slow motion
Again
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/31/2004 :  07:17:16  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
~For All Hallows Eve~

The key falls to the ground at the Checkpoint. Guards change into uniforms of burnt paper. Crows with sharp-shooter eyes plot crimes from high wires. Leaves curl and rattle on the trees. The sun slides impaled on a stake, even as it it rising. Black gulls fly out of the black sea. Dip your hands in that cold water. How could this not happen today?

AND FOR YOU...

The Witch Watch, Magician.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/31/2004 :  18:00:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
~*~

The crows all have glass eyes and the Border Guards are bad shots at any range. White doves appear to be black against a blue sky at sunrise.

The Truth is in the ancient word, Well. We will gather at the Well. For water is...so precious. Here...have a cup of water.

All is well...as it should be. There is nothing to fear.

~Mickey Newbury~
October 31, 2000
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 10/31/2004 :  18:09:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
...for those who had to. And for next year...

CHILI PUMPKIN SEEDS

Makes 1 1/2 cups

1 1/2 cups pumpkin seeds rinsed and patted dry
(from 1 large or 2 medium pumpkins)
1 teaspoon kosher/pretzel salt
1 1/2 teaspoons chili powder
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

350 degree oven. Combine all ingredients. Spread on oiled cookie sheet. Bake 15 minutes or until golden. Shake pan once during baking. Cool and serve.

"They're still terrible," Stu says, but the kids are hooked on ritual.



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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 11/01/2004 :  19:24:21  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I had not read his life before. Nor much of his work after the terrifying "chilling and killing" of Annabel Lee. Poe. Born January 19, 1809. Father David. Grandfather David. Great grandfather John (probably Sean) from northern Ireland. He played the flute. The dark figure. So intensely sad. What he wrote in letters to Mrs. Clemm: "I am blinded with tears while writing this letter~ I have no wish to live another hour...I have no desire to live and WILL NOT. But let my duty be done. I love, YOU KNOW I LOVE Virginia passionately and devotedly. I cannot express in words the fervent devotion I felt toward my dear little cousin~ my own darling." To Virginia he added this postscript: "My love, my own sweetest Sissy, my darling little wifey (though she was not yet), think well before you break the heart of your cousin." Married May 16, 1836. Virginia was 13. Poe was 27. She called him "Eddy". From a letter written to George W. Eveleth 6 years after Virginia's death: "I became insane, with long intervels of horrible sanity." In this same letter he says, "As a matter of course, my enemies referred the insanity to the drink rather than the drink to the insanity."
My heart breaks for him.
The Baltimore Ravens are named for Poe. I wonder what he thinks of that...shrugging his shoulders.
Prayers for all the Porch people who are hurting. God bless.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 11/02/2004 :  18:13:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
From a high meadow hanging in his mountain, Oracles come to call. They crowd around him. Under a blue roof of sky they bend to his breath and its echo. What does he hold in his empty hands that will save them? There. A snag. A hook in their ear. A scrim of delight. A love-infused memory. A shiver of alarm and longing. We are squatters in Paradise waiting at the drift fence tonight. Waiting to leave our cold souls on the porch railing ~ in a niche in the old wall ~ in the alcove with its scrolled, golden light. Here we bargain with one hundred Angels for a warmer, longer sleep. Then dream in radiant November.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 11/03/2004 :  18:14:09  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Here I sat on a boulder by the winter-streaming river and put my head in my hands and considered time - which is next to nothing, merely what vanishes, and yet can make one's elbows nearly pierce one's thighs.
Here I forgot how to sing in the old way and listened to frogs at dusk make their more angelic croaking.
Here the local fortune teller took my hand and said, "What is still possible is inspired work, faithfulness to a few, and a last love, which, being last, will be like looking up and seeing the parachute dissolving in a shower of golden light..."

~Galway Kinnell~
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 11/05/2004 :  21:51:58  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
You have to cross the tracks before you get to the beach. Cross the railroad tracks everyday. Kids feeding KIX to the seagulls. Big surf today. But 63, not 70, when sun flares the windows momentarily blind. Hey! You up there in your piney wood... What dawn falls over the wall tomorrow? The stars plot their courses, sun-shot. Checking into The Lost Hotel.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

1513 Posts

Posted - 11/06/2004 :  19:25:18  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
The night does not close without him
Her breath fogs the lighthouse window
Where she waits for his tall ships' arrival
The broken coast curves
Stars litter the star-strewn sea
Fervently devoted to water
Engraving the waves where they fall
Darkness deepens
And a truth shines on the ocean
His bright soul
Still holding her heart hostage
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