| Author |
 Topic  |
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
 Posted - 11/16/2019 : 16:34:34
|
| Melvyn builds boats in a barn with a wood stove and Goodwill sofa. A complicated man who makes a "superior" pot of coffee. His work is precise and beautiful. The most sought after man in the marina. He once taught, "...upstate someplace." Maybe Marine Biology. We're all content without specifics. He has a niece named Janey he's crazy about. Has me mail letters to her in St. Petersburg. Cartons of books. "I have half a secret," he says. "You have the other half." "...his way to stay ahead of the sorrow," you say late one night. I don't ask questions. I think about the mysteries on J-Dock. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 11/16/2019 17:24:53 |
 |
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 11/16/2019 : 16:57:14
|
| He's rocking with his palms resting on his knees. She's sitting on the top stair beside him with his to-be-continued stories. He interrupts when she leaves something out. "Unfair advantage!" he says suddenly. "C'mon..." she says laughing. "...the water did all the work for you." "Once is enough..." he says. Wet footprints on the deck. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 11/25/2019 : 20:14:01
|
| "Moki Dugway," she says. "Most dangerous...?" he asks. A quiz. A puzzle. A prize? "No..." she pauses, "No..." His inquiring eyebrows and summing-up eyes when he lands his gravity-defying chair with a thud. "Tell me," he says. "Flying into a star..." she says. His touched face a light in her hands when he laughs. Later, eyes closed, "Oh, yeah...? he says. "The first day," she says. "No..." he says, "...before that." |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 11/25/2019 : 20:31:46
|
| Waterfront tales. Tuna men chasing biblical creatures under the waves. Their ships crowding the Embarcadero. "Straight 'crost from City Hall 'til my hands give out. No greater fish (Bluefin) in the whole damn ocean!" Carlito pounds his fist on the table. His granddaughter, CiCi pauses before setting several plates down. Grilled sardines with lemon and olives. Saffron paella. Baskets of stuffed sausage bread. Oysters to order at the counter. Around 5pm the day's catch is whitewashed on the window. High bench in front where the faithful collect or pay off. Superstitious. No red hats in the crowd. They come here often. He loves these dark-paneled rooms with wide plank floors and rough edges. The long bar with history in pictures on the wall. The newest member of the crew asleep in a crib in a hallway off the kitchen. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 08/16/2020 16:28:33 |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 11/29/2019 : 04:22:42
|
Ogden, Utah. Sleeping between railroad tracks and a highway. Middle of the night awakened by loud “moos”, we realized that a cattle drive was passing through and over us. Jumping in sleeping bags we laid down nearer to the tracks where it seemed quieter... Until the train came through.
Then the Mexican jumping beans ballet part two ensued.
|
|
|
|
San Diego
Swinger
509 Posts |
Posted - 12/03/2019 : 17:46:09
|
Track washout. Rail line from San Diego to Los Angeles. The main washout came within 20 inches of the railroad ties at the edge of a 40 foot bluff. Ocean crashing below. 100 years operating on the brink. High surf, waves, rain, and irrigation runoff cause the cliffs to crumble. NCTD Director, Matt Tucker, "The additional job needs an engineering design plan before the work is done and it may wait until January. More detail will follow when we have solid facts." Six phases of stabilization are planned through 2050. Del Mar Mayor, Dave Drucker, "We need to get the track off the bluff as quickly as possible. It's just way too vulnerable at this point. While it is somewhat dangerous it is safe to drive the train." In the meantime passenger trains are limited to 30 mph and freight trains to 10mph. Rain and flash flood warnings for tonight and tomorrow. Water and air 62. Back to you, Blaine.
Quotes from San Diego U-T. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/04/2019 : 00:56:47
|
Cracklin Rosie Saved My Life
It wasn't that I really wanted to die,
It was just that I didn't care a whole lot about living anymore.
It was February, 1972 in San Francisco and it seemed
like it had been raining for weeks.
I'd cut my foot jumping off a cliff at Big Sur,
had a fight with a girl, couldn't get rides
and by the time I got back to the City
I was wet, cold, hurt and feeling
sorry for myself and alone.
I didn't even go back to McAllister Street,
I just got a big bottle of Gallo Rose
and laid down on the beach next to
the Pacific Coast Highway.
When I was thinking at all, there was a stray
notion that if I just got drunk enough and
laid there long enough, the tide would come in
and I wouldn't have to decide anything,
just kinda drift on out to sea...
Somebody had parked a VW Bug just behind me and
they were playing the radio loud;
it was Neil Diamond singing Cracklin Rosie.
I remembered a friend telling me that
it was a song about some Eskimos getting drunk on
cheap rose wine and pretending they had a woman
and I looked at my Gallo and
just started laughing
then crying
then laughing
some more until I was doing both at once...
I figured it was the Old Man trying to tell me something,
so
I got up, brushed myself off, walked by the Bug,
yelled Thanks to the couple somewhere inside the smoke
and I walked back home to McAllister and the rest of my life...
Hell, I still don't know if the story about the song was true...
But this one is...
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 12/09/2019 : 21:08:15
|
It's night. But the color is peach. Champagne peach with a glow. A stranger's life. New clothes. New closet. Elusive view. No tangible landmarks when the screen goes dark for a moment and then flickers with...
...Tugs on the river. Their endless migration. Manhole covers huffing steam. Trees growing out of grates in the sidewalks. Pigeons picketing the Park. The rest of the world west of here. A jar full of subway tokens to get there. MET guards in their freshly-pressed blue. Nodding when she takes the stairs two by two. The Knights patiently waiting. Composed in their armor. More alive than yesterday. "A lesson," she says. "History's narrator..." he says when she reaches for the pan to cook eggs. Poached in milk he likes them. "...keep talkin'," he says, his chest rising and falling inside his shining white shirt. His resolute heart beating closer. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/22/2019 : 01:25:59
|
Seems it's the best of times
At the worst of times
Guess it's like that getting old
My body's getting weaker, but
It's my heart can't take the load
Some say they wouldn't change a thing
I wonder how that would be
Because if I didn't have any regrets
I'd have no memories
There's a church right down the road
Where we had our wedding day
But you know I lost that girl
Somewhere along the way
The more I learn about loving
The less I seem to know
Most days I think that this grey beard
Is all that's seemed to grow
Some say they wouldn't change a thing
I wonder how that would be
Because if I didn't have any regrets
I'd have no memories
See the pictures? She's the one that left
It's been awhile now
Three angels took her to her rest
To her I'll always bow
She showed me what a friend could be
Though she never wore my ring
She always took all I had
And gave me everything
The boy's gone long ago
I try not to mention it anymore
But though it's been many years
I remember that closing door
There's time before, and time to come
But it never feels the same
There's a time you have to stand up
And get back in the game
Seems it's the best of times
At the worst of times
Guess it's like that getting old
My body's getting weaker, but
It's my heart can't take the load
Some say they wouldn't change a thing
I wonder sometimes how that would be
Because if I didn't have any regrets
I'd have no memories...
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 12/23/2019 : 23:17:39
|
| The Sailor and the Mute Fortune Teller where the boulevards rush to the sea. Heart-driven gypsy road years. Dreams distilling in sleep's blue room. Two teacups on the counter. A fortune in leaves. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 12/23/2019 : 23:21:10
|
| The sun fades. The sky darkens. The kelp beds roll. Thicket of stars over the harbor. Crystalline moon on deck. A man and a woman at the salt-ruffled edge asleep beneath the waterline. Tide dragging their ankles out to sea. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 12/30/2019 : 08:11:46
|
It was a Chet Baker kind of night in a Leonard Cohen kind of world...
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 12/30/2019 : 17:24:19
|
| "Twenty-five cents," he says. (The neighbor.) "Hell, it would take me to the movies and buy me popcorn! I was 8... 9 years old. Hottest damn thing, baby. (Hot pepper.) Burned my mouth. But I wouldn't cry. Honey, I wouldn't cry if it killed me. Wouldn't give me the money. 'That's what the world do to you,' he says. A lesson. Well, my lips are all red and swollen. My momma got on him somethin' awful. Put up a fence between us. Later on they was friends though. Those days..." He's rocking on the deck with the blanket over his knees. "I love it when you-" she starts. "I know..." he laughs. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 12/30/2019 : 17:29:25
|
"Didn't know what I was gonna do," he says. "So restless, ya know."
"Didn't want dull," she says. "Take a deep breath. Deny the terror."
"Somethin' 'bout drivin' long distance alone," he says. ""The car is the world."
"Uh-huh," she says. "...a new convertible. It was borrowed. It was blue." |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 12/30/2019 : 17:36:16
|
| He's enchanted with strawberries coming out of the fields in February. "Dipped in dark and white chocolate for Valentine's," she says. "Just imagine..." he says. His face shining with pleasure. "It's a California thing," she laughs. Miles of fields beside Interstate 5. A last Denny's before the Camp Pendleton Gate. Stories from the mythic Pacific. "Wake up in the middle of the night..." he says, "...write it all down for me." |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 01/06/2020 : 18:19:57
|
| "...Father sprinkles the ground with his aspergillum. I want to do it myself. I need a miracle. 'Sacrilegious girl!' Brigid hisses. I cast a bad spell on her. Three Hail Mary's wipe that slate clean." They're on their knees in spikey ice plant laying new irrigation pipe. The path where the sprinklers don't reach is scorched and brittle. Sunburned flowers. Slow bees. "Did you ever drink Holy water?" she asks him. "I thought it would taste like some divine elixir but it has no flavor at all." He's instinctively resourceful. Mechanically inclined. His hands as bright as his mind. Suddenly sweeping arches of rainbow-hued water appear. "Three Hail Mary's..." he says, "...go on..." |
Edited by - Ailinn on 05/07/2020 17:00:01 |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 01/10/2020 : 17:53:07
|
| He's holding them by the edges. Old photographs. "So long... So long ago..." he says. "...Kodak in the Park," she says. "A new crew. Ted, ranting. Frantically waving his bottle of Mateus Rose. New York's Finest on horseback threatening arrest if he moves another bench." He taps the image of a woman with her hair piled on top of her head. "Star. In the trailer with Max Factor and her arsenal of tricks. She draped a cape over my shoulders and offered a Parliament cigarette. Didn't know it was my first. That's mascara. She had to clean me up and start all over again. Later on she laughed, though. 'You need a spanking,' she said. Kindest woman I know." A woman tells stories to a man. Sometimes he closes his eyes. Sometimes he holds her hands. Sometimes he tells her to write them down, "No blank pages," he says. |
|
|
|
buckman
Firefly
USA
2825 Posts |
Posted - 01/11/2020 : 19:36:55
|
I'm hitchin a ride to redemption
On this dark, hot July night
The quarter moon's three nickels short
The neon's not much light
Townes and Zevon feed the engine
Newbury's driving this old train
I find myself smilin a bit
As the sky begins to rain
It seems the rails end up ahead
But Mickey only smiles
He's made this trip many a time
His soul's walked evry mile
So many times I needed an ace
But only drew a seven
Tonight's the night I win the pot
Headin for the last bar in Heaven
At the last bar in Heaven
The shows they never end
At the last bar in Heaven
You can always find a friend
At the last bar in Heaven
There's no one getting stoned
At the last bar in Heaven
It always feels like home
Seems the old friends always find me
When the darkness fills my soul
It doesn't take but a song or two
And I'm feeling almost whole
Forgiveness and redemption's
What my old heart needs tonight
This train I'm on will carry me
From the darkness to the light
At the last bar in Heaven
The shows will never end
At the last bar in Heaven
You can always find a friend
At the last bar in Heaven
There's no one getting stoned
At the last bar in Heaven
It always feels like home
At the last bar in Heaven
The shows they never end
At the last bar in Heaven
You'll always have a friend
|
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 01/20/2020 : 17:22:49
|
| The wind picks up. The rain hisses. Sudden ambush in the trees when birds come in low and the temperature drops ten degrees. Lightning when she answers the phone. A crescendo of thunder he can hear on the line. The chimes clashing racket. The trembling edge to it all. She listens in the kitchen as he goes through his litany of precaution. Closes her eyes and lets his voice warm the room. |
|
|
|
Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 01/24/2020 : 20:59:38
|
| My father hid acorns behind the B&B in the hotel bar. Dark chocolate and almond paste candy. A bribe when I was four or five. He'd drop one in my hand as I was falling asleep beside the cash register. I had to wake up enough to eat it before the chocolate melted. The bar was the last room to close. He'd carry me and Raggedy Ann to bed beside the sea where the stars were mine. He was on the golf course the day I was born. Quoted in the Times, "...and may the next one be a boy. A healthy boy. I'll be needing a caddy in my old age." He was sixty years old. The curtain came down on that life. At the orphanage I'd spend long afternoons hiding in the janitor's closet drawing on my knees. I could hear pots and pans loud in the kitchen where they were looking for me. I wasn't lonely. I was planning escape. One of the older girls found me. "You gonna wind up in Juvie!" she said. "Too emotional," he says laughing, tears in his eyes. |
|
|
|
Topic |
|
|
The Nightly Vigil