I am sorry if I offended you

---

But I have found myself sideways, sidled, slightly silly;
I am watching the wind reverse direction, marked by the
gusting snow, a complete backwards motion to the
horizontal pelting being received from East to West.

The cold ache in my fingers is not fatigue, no my fingers
they have splayed themselves in Monk like fashion
over my keyboard until the tips hurt, until there is
no music in me; ache dissonant, a sharp 13.

And now I am on stage with you all - backup and
solo is your forte - the orchestra tunes and the
audience settles, the curtain rises as the chords
both dissonant and resolved strike our ears.

Here we are, you and I, with images sublime and
ridiculous, works of art and complete shite or as
a non-judgmental might say "all art is smelly, some
more than most."

But again, here we are.  Can I "sub" you all, see those
poses, catch your phrases - burn those images into my
mind?  The childish things are relevant - what is relevant
depends on how you perceive yourself from a child.

And the wind blows hard outside my window.  Winter returns
and the God forsaken Gopher has spoke -  more weeks of
unlivable atmosphere - heads down we supplicate to the environs;
We lift our car wiper arms to the heavens; help us!

I am sorry if I have offended you with my "ness", my absence,
my reclusive, my happiness; I am ridiculously happy.

I am writing like this from now on.  I think of William Spader
when I speak; a kind of arrogant, benevolent, prick.  I do not
aspire to this phallic end, but I do enjoy the "is-ness" of it; Buddha
with a hard-on if you please.

To this I commend me ...

Mystic For A Day

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We headed down to Mystic, Ct.  A wander with my Honey. 

We wandered along the river banks, drove in and around the back roads,
in through the private associations of copious wealth with their houses
standing tip toe at the waters edge - the journey was our purpose not
the destination.  At the end of the road was Mystic; shops and
coffee, couture and caffeine, the cool February day gave us a Valentine
kiss of sun.  At the far end of town, whose size is not much bigger than
the narrows its old bridge crosses, is the S&P Oyster Company. 
A white two story building with commanding views of the river.  We
bounded up the stairs and headed straight over to the last table with a
window view.  What followed could only be described as a three
hour languishing lunch consisting of steamers, wine, fish, wine,
lobster rolls, wine (somebody bring us more wine!) and of course each
other.  A seal played in the river for our
amusement (I'd show a photograph of him but with my camera he would
look like a grey rock poking out of the black oily surface of the
water - its a seal, honest).

A weekend along the Connecticut coast was more than  nice. 
We stayed at the Inn at Harbor Hill and I can enthusiastically recommend you to Sue and
Dave's care without any reservations; they are wonderful.  We
loved the place soo much we have already booked for our birthday's in August (she
the 24th, I the 25th).  And for those astrologically inclined and
noticing we are on the cusp of two signs; she is the Leo , I so much the
Virgo.  It was Valentine's weekend after all and I used all the power
of my earth sign to my advantage, taming the lion can be such hard work
(loving toil it was!)

We returned back to the Inn, happy and full - life is good.

Do you know the sound you make when you plop down on the couch? 
The 'ahhhh' kind of satified murmering escapes out of your mouth when
you hit the couch and you are extremely satisfied and
comfortable.  The fireplace was to our left and we were in for the
evening.  We chuckled to ourselves as the other couples staying at
the Inn wandered in and then, nearly all, called down to the Inn keeper
and canceled their reservations, what were they doing upstairs instead
of going out to dinner? 
We, from the start, had designs on the couch in front of the
fireplace.  Feet up on the couch, laying up against each other,
glasses of wine (surprise ) in our
hands we leaned in close, conspiritorial lovers watching the parade of
our cohabitants go through the common room whispering our thoughts
about them to each other, winking and laughing together.  After a
while we were joined on the couch across from us by a couple that
amused and charmed us.  They were a ball and we coerced them from
their dinner reservations and we sat on facing couches telling tales
and finding each other quite enjoyable.  The funniest thing to
come out during our conversations was the fact that Mark wanted the
room we had - a first floor separate suite with its own fireplace and
kitchenette - and we joked about how envelopes of cash were being
passed around trying to get that room!  We have the room for the weekend of our birthdays, we win!

And I will leave you with the morning view from the porch of that room overlooking the Thames river in Conneticut.

The Little Christmas Tree

---

Under our small tree is a wonderful bounty; it is our love ...

Hold your loved ones tight ...

 

Heart Lake Slope

---

Looking Down To The Valley

May all your treks be glorious and down hill!

 

Knife

---

The cold has plunged its bitter shank deep in to my body.  I'm frozen in shock.  I can't seem to feel my hands.  I have been slapped numb like that time after class; I was hit so bad I shook and vowed never to tell anyone, even my parents.

Memories warm me.  That small cramped space inside my head.  I recall College, living with friends and strangers - difficult to tell them apart, most were the same, in Buffalo New York.  Striding out one night to go to the local, Mr. Vics, I think it was called.  The temperature measured not at all.  Back then, '80 - '81, I was all cool, long haired, bearded, with a Frank Sinatra hat (Fedora?) sitting on my head complete with little feather; 2$ from the local Salvation Army, then my clothier.

I remember the complete intrusiveness of the cold, the incredible squeak of the snow, the lack of any reasonable winter gear.  And we all headed out, walking abreast in the street, twenty something if that and in complete control of the universe.

In those days, I don't know if I was trying to distinguish myself, or if I needed an oral fixation (easy there Freud!), I smoked a pipe.  Something Meerschaum and something cheap.  It was found stuck between my teeth when I was studying and given my study record anything that kept me at the books, vice or not, was not to be taken lightly. 

And out we went.  The cold grabbed at us, the wind insulted us, and me and my little pipe was like the engine that could.  It made cracking sounds as I lit the bowl.  The taste of a pipe is good for about twelve seconds, then you are smoking ash and the runoff from the tobacco and spit; not very pleasant.  On we drove.  Laughing at nothing, mostly cold jokes and the fact we were without female company ... Snap!  It shook my teeth.  It had been so cold the bowl of my pipe had split while I was smoking it!  Now for a guy who lives on the $20 his father gave him per week to survive this was a tragic loss.

And to this day I am reminded of that night with friends whose names I can't remember, that night of wicked cold, and the snap and crack of a pipe, every time the temperature drops.  Funny how memories are seared in to your mind ...

I do recall Mr. V's.  This was a Holy joint to my college brethren.  Not close enough to campus to gather the "in" crowd, remember we were just recovering from disco back then, and way too small and out of the way to attract the frat boys.  It was sacred ground.  A single pool table to the left as you walked in, bar to the right, ten stools tops.  Then the jukebox, a shrine to us all, carried the hymns from the latter years; Frank S., Tommy D, McCoy T., Diz, Duke.  And to pay homage to the more "current" bunch The Dead, CSN&Y, Starship ... I suspect Mr. V, who held services from behind the bar in a tied-dyed T-Shirt, got his stripes from somewhere between Woodstock and Harlem.

Have you had Beef On Wheck?  Have you been to a bar that had pickled eggs?  Do you know what a $1.25 beer is?  These warm memories come over me now and again.  They are just places I have been, but they are more than that, they are somewhere I ducked in out of the cold on my life's journey with some good people around me.  Somewhere I felt that I didn't have to have the right suit, somewhere the locals hung out. 

And I was one of them.

What About ...

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So I have been thinking about changing my public site look and feel (LAF.)  There's a reason it's called L.A.F. because you feel like everyone's looking at you and laughing!  OK, sorry, just a little self conscious public creativity phobia setting in. 

I am a relatively competent chap who can sling an phrase or two and who thinks he understands the technicalities of HTML, Tables, JavaScript, etc.  But when it comes to presenting any of my own design to the public I'm like a shy schoolboy at his Junior Prom.  Maybe its the other Xanga sites I see out there that has me quivering ... Dual Mode Faders, Pulsing Mouse Over's, hidden Pop Ups ... Opacity Filters!  And then I come along and I can't figure out how to stop my columns from resizing themselves on a whim, why embeded tables just, well, don't embed!  This is sending me to bed, with a headache!

I think it is more to do with my fear of (perceived) public failure.

Until the therapist kicks in (or the drugs) you will just have to take someone else's skin as my public display of a blog.

Being Santa

---

I had the opportunity to be Santa Claus.  A friend had called up and wanted the jolly old elf to make an appearance at his son's birthday party.  With no small amount of trepidation I said sure, why not?

There must have been twenty children between the ages of two and eight, mostly three and four year olds, all in full hyperactivity mode when I arrived.

I conversed with the parents, had an IPA or two, and sereptitiously left the party sneaking upstairs to don the red fur trimmed garb.  This elf suit include a fattening pad for my 5'11" 165lb frame.  (I can hear the old Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer Christmass special ringing in my ears, "Eat, no one likes a skinny Santa!")

Sputtering the white nylon beard hairs out of my mouth and half blind I sidled down the stairs with a garbage bag full of toys and gave my heartiest Ho-Ho-Ho.  I have to admit it came out a bit harsh, much like a cross between Billy Bob Thorton's Bad Santa and a bad Pirate immatation.  I thought I was going to scare the kids, the dissaproval of the parents would be just as crushing as the dissapointment of the tykes.  So, I thought, make yourself into the idea of Old Saint Nick.  And the laughter came easily, hearty but softly like a whispered insistent secret from me to them.

Now the disturbing thing about sauntering in to a room of active children dressed as Santa is how they can completely ignore you at first.  I'm betting it had more to do with all the adrenaline in their toyed out systems or the half pound of sugar they just consumed in what passes for a child's birthday cake - the kids were in a full post-gifting frenzy having just helped the birthday boy unwrap the treasure trove; a boys bounty of transforming, roaring, wheeled playstuff.  I noticed as I stood there that children don't care who the presents are for, they will play with them and everyone nonetheless - when did we as adults loose this ability?

Then one of the parents said "look, there's santa!"

Shock, surprise, fear and fascination consumed their frames and uncheckable emotions played with the looks on faces; twenty pairs of eyes snapped to me, all eyes on the tall man in the fire engine red suit.

I gave a hearty "Ho-Ho-Ho" and waved a bit and just went with the flow.  It is at this moment I learned what it was to be Santa Clause; the children possess you.  They shreik, they clamor to get away from you, they clamor to get to you, they ring you and with attentiveness a surgeon would admire they watch your every move.  Anything you do is great, look at them and wave, say Merry Christmass, whatever it doesn't matter - you are the elf of the hour and you know deep in the seat of your being you can't dissapoint them - ever.  And I "Ho-Ho-Ho'd" and "Merry Christmass'd" and "who do we have here?" until I was red in the face ... it was all good.

Give credit the parents giving the birthday party to a young boy at a time very close to Christmass.  They knew the other kids would be present deprived so Santa had a package for everyone.  Calling out their names they came forward - or not - they grabbed and ran or they just looked at me with mouths agape.  The parents helped the reluctant.  It was funny, some children had the drill down, they hopped up on Santas lap without any help burbling forth cheery slurred requests for "racetrackset" (one word) and "rescu rangers."  Others kept a safe ten feet away and only got closer when dad, whose leg they were clinging to, moved closer.  One child seemed to ignore me, and when asked by his parents if he wanted to see Santa he ran over and hugged me and would not stop.  I told everyone they were a good boy and girl, every one of them.

The eyes of the kids were incredible, such unadulterated, innocent emotions.  The world of a child is amazing. 

One gems from the encounter; when Santa asked if anyone else wanted to sit in Santa's lap one little girl told her mommy she couldn't because she would break Santa's lap - mommy was not happy with that.

After Santa ran out of presents he dissapeared upstairs to get out of the suit, sweaty hot thing that it was.  A cold IPA was waiting for me and a clap on the back from my friend for helping him out.

Yeah, I can get being Santa ... I think I'll do it again next year.

Needy

---

Needs.  What do we need?  Happiness?  The fool is happy.  That is just it!  It is as simple as that.  Something so simple the simpleton, the fool can understand it.  Nothing special, no props, no required clothing and definitely no cover charge.  We need happiness.

With all the 'no' and nothingness defining or around the definition of being happy one wonders if the absence of everything would bring about pure happiness?

I hear the "relativity" dogs barking.  They howl "bit if there is nothing I will not have my car, my girlfriend or my nice new condo, how can I be happy?"  These are needed for happiness?  The mistake is the difference between needs and having.  What do we need to have happiness?  Nothing.

Happiness abounds, it is there in between the molecules of air (O² (79%) + N² (21%) + H-A-P-P-I-N(E)S²), in every ray of sun, in the dim dark days of torrential rain.  For Christ's Sake we are drowning in the stuff, don't you see it?  What do we need to enjoy the air?  What do we need to love life?  What tools are required for happiness?  What isle in Home Depot do I find the power saw of happiness?

Oh, isle 4, right behind the commodes

Snow Ice Line

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The snow ice line is up north, the thick shower mist of rain is here. Yesterday the pink sunrise topped the Winchester Square church steeple as I stood elevated train platform high and looked up at its peak. Today is close - slippery eel skin - close. The train arrival was a lumbering predator through the fog; it hid behind a grey curtain of camouflage. The track side train signals snapped alive, they knew of us. The steel ghost saw this and changed direction around the curved track heading straight for us. We were slowly stalked through the murk. Frozen like deer in its three set of lights we stood impatiently by waiting for the rolling carnivore to devour us whole, only to be deposited, stool like, at the T station.

"First and Finest" had its steam operations running wide open oozing vapor sheets into the already saturated day when we arrived.

December mornings are here.