170/365 Halloween

Happy Halloween to all.  I hope you have experienced ghosts and goblins and super heroes, and ballerinas all trick or treating at your door, and that you handed out sweets and goodies to all who came a knockin'.   Very quiet here in the apartment house.  Not a soul knocking on the door.  Best, since there were no treats to give.  I enjoyed Halloween as a kid.  Fondly remember such dress ups as a beatnik, a cat, a bum.  Fun stuff.  I saw one princess type while I went to the store before, but no more than that.  Things have changed.  Children don't go out without chaperones, and everybodies too busy.  Hopefully there were parties in homes, and good times still to be had by the young ones.

Logan as Woody, from Toy Story

169/365 infidelity

I think if I were married, I'd have a stronger notion of infidelity.  Being faithful in a marriage just seems right, otherwise why get into it.  Maybe someday I'll write about my views on marriage.
In my experience there have only been a couple of men who I had a relationship with which fidelity would be a part of.  One of them was Steve, and I didn't do too well in that department, and worse (for a relationship) I didn't even have any remorse or guilt over it.  Ah, I was in my twenties, and a bit more restless than I should have been.
I guess I believe in fidelity as a proponent of a good relationship -- and if it's not part, well that's something you've got to come to terms with your own self.

168/365 Tom Waits

I was introduced to Tom Waits by Evie, and have been a fan of his ever since.  I remember listening to San Diego Seranade while sitting under a San Diego moon.  His poetry is stark -- Step right up --  and lovely -- I do Walzting Matilda.  He throaty cigarette and whiskey voice goes right to the heart (of Saturday Night).
His movements onstge are like Gumby, bending and swooping and catching the air. Or just hunched up over the piano, singing a song.
"My tears are salt water, and the moon's big and high.  Well shiver me timbers, I'm a sailing away."  He fills up his songs with a wealth of words, so intricately connected, so ordinary yet revealing.  Makes you feel the blues deep down in your soul.  His words spill out like the sound of the trombone.

167/365 classes

I have taken and loved so many classes as an adult, that it is hard to pinpoint just a few.  Just about all my classes in acupuncture school were so very interesting.  It was poetry to me.  And, speaking of poetry, there were Herb Leibowitz's classes, in Creative Writing, and Modern American Poets.  So much said about the importance of verbs.  A wonderful, inspiring, time.
My class in photography was among one of my most loved classes.  Learning every step, from taking the film out of the canister, to producing a black and white print.  It was a wonderous time, and I could've spent the day in the darkroom without noticing the time.
I had a fifth grade teacherk, wo had us make many crafted pieces of art from our own imagination.  Thats where I made my cigar box shelves that I spoke of in a previous post.

166/365 writing

I have been writing something or another since I was an adolescent.  I remember the first poem I wrote was about the Vietnam war, using the American flag to symbolize blue eyed young men, the white of their spirit, the blood they shed.  I received praise and awe from my family, and that set the tone.  I would write many poems throughout the years, untill my first novella, when I was about 20.  An embarrassingly autobiographical story that I'd cringe to read today.
In college I wrote a novel with Evie, for a 12-credit independent study.  That was a lot of fun.  Also very autobiographical, though.
My last novel (finished last year) actually began in the 80's.  I'm proud of that one. 
Writing has been my salvation over the years, keeping tomes of journals, saying what I could not say aloud.

165/365 jewelry

I have no jewelry of worth.  Used to have a diamond ring, but I sold that for classes I was taking at the time.  I kind of regret selling it.  It's nice to have diamonds.
I used to always wear jewelry of some sort.  My favorite and most worn necklace was one I made myself.  Long and adorned with a crystal, a bear claw, a yin yang sign, and other meaningful things to me.
I love wearing earrings, but own no pairs, just single earrings that have lost their mate.  I wore a lot of rings, too.  Eight all together, most of them silver and turquoise.  That was in my heyday.
There's a boutique that I belong to -- I'd like to say it's a collective, but it's not nearly.  I have some items in there made of polymer clay, but for the most part is is only the makers of costume jewelry who sell anything.  I know I should start making jewelry myself, but I don't have much enthusiasm for it.  But people buy an awful lot of jewelry.
Perhaps this week I will look for a piece of jewelry to wear.

164/365 online relationships

I have some friends online that I have known for about 15 years now.  They reside in a private forum run by my friend, Peter, who I met online that many years ago, in an interesting, but now defunct, website called The Waking World.  It was a metaphysical playground of sorts, with many smart and interesting people.  It was there that I also met Jorma, whom I knew for about 9 years before going to Finland to share my life with him.  Goes to show you how intense an online relationship can grow to be.
And then there are those of you who leave ocmments on my blog, and vice versa.  I feel a certain closeness to you all.
Back in the late 90's early 2000's, I met a few men online who I ended up dating in real life.  It used to be easier on AOL to connect with people-- everyone had a profile, and you could perue them and just instant message a person out of the blue.  Now there are hardly any profiles, and no way to take a look to see who's online, so it's much harder to meet someone, or be met by someone.

163/365 architecture

I know nothing about this subject, really.  The only architect I'm familiar with is Frank Lloyd Wright -- some of his stuff gets me, like the Guggenheim museum in NYC, and some not so much, like his famed home, Tallesin, or some such name.
I admire more earthy structures, round domes and such.  Homes built with the trees coming into the living room.  Although I do admire a sleek look as well, as long as it's somewhat lived in.
The architecture around the neighborhood is nothing to speak of.  The design on this building shows a woman's head, and a bit above that it appears to be a viking ship of some sort.

162/365 big foot

What can one say about Sasquatch, either you believe he exists or not.  Photos of his footprints and himself, even, could well have been faked.  Perhaps there is a band of these ape/humanoid type creatures who have a samauri spirit, and just cannot be seen for the most part.  Imagine the horror for the poor creature if suddenly it was really discovered.
Myself, I lean more towards the side that says he doesn't exist, or if he does, he's hanging out with the Loch Ness Monster.
I dated a guy once who wore a size fifteen shoe -- he was quite the big foot.  Those toes looked like mountains.

161/365 fate/destiny

There is the idea of creating your own destiny, which allows for free will to come into play -- which isn't in the strict sense, destiny.  I don't think of destiny as having a hold on every event in your life, but I believe it weaves its way in from time to time.  Like with friends and family -- I think these meetings were predetermined, destined.  This is what's meant by soul mates -- not one particular person, but many people who are related to you on a soul level.
I suppose you have to believe in a higher power to believe in destiny.
Was it my fate to end up in the situation I'm in?  Did I create it myself?  More likely.

making strides

My niece, Melissa, a survivor herself, participated in the Making Strides walk for breast cancer today, along with her son, Logan, and boyfriend, JC. 

There was some beautiful fall foliage along the walk...

(photo by Melissa)

160/365 turning points

I suppose there should be things that really stick out in the mind, if there are true turning points.  But right now nothing strikes me like that.
Let's see.  Once I had a dearly admired professor who used my paper as an example of "how not to write a paper" -- that was a turning point in my education, and I became smarter for it.
Leaving Steve wa a big turning point.  After six years of being together, I'd finally had enough, and went to live with my parents for a year and a half, and then finally on my own, for the first time in my life, back in 1988, and I have been alone (for the most part) ever since.

159/365 secrets

People tell me secrets, and I keep them.  I am the keeper of quite a few secrets over the years, and some of them have burdened me -- of course I can't tell you which ones.
My own secrets are few, and for the most part I will tend to keep them to myself.  I know that secrets are a hard thing to keep, so I spare others from that.
Do you want to know a secret?  No, really, I don't.  Why are people so anxious to expose their secrets?  I wonder.  Does it lift them up from the burden of it?  I guess that is it, isn't it?
Sometimes you want to know someone else's secrets, though -- to get an idea of what makes them tick.  Perhaps it is an unusual insight into a person, but insight, nonetheless.

the weekend in black and white

Here is my friday entry for The Weekend in Black and White.  The Cyclone.

158/365 wind

What I know of the wind comes in Autumn and Winter, and Spring.  Very little wind in summer, unless a big storm is brewing.
The Spring wind spreads around the seed pods and such, promoting new growth to take hold.  In Autumn starts the wind blowing through the trees, letting go leaves, whoosing in your ears. By Winter the wind is howling.
I used to know a bit of ore about what the wind meant in relation to which direction it was blowing.  Some things fall out of the mind, though.

154-157 gypsies, twilight, friendship, the pink bubble

For today's freewrite, we chose 4 of our random subjects to do in 5 min increments.  This quasi-true story unfolded.

During twilight, on an autumn's eve, two friends walked the avenue, and came upon a neon sign in a store window.  It was a pink bubble, meant to be a looking glass.  The sign said "Come in."
They walked over the threshold of the storefront, and came upon a round table with a long blue tablecloth, and a woman in a bandana, who was a gypsy.
"Come, sit, I tell you everything, give me your hand." she said in a heavy accent.
The twilight came through the store window, making everything look blue.
The friends looked at each other.
"I'm game if you are." one of them said.
The gypsy looked deeply at them , as if to penetrate their very thoughts.
"You have had many troubles, yes?" she said to the blue eyed girl, who looked at her friend, and couldn't help but let a giggle out.  The green-eyed girl couldn't contain a laugh.
"I've had a few." she said, trying to be composed.
"There is a man, yes?" the gypsy said.
"Where? Who? the blue eyed one looked around herself, and both of them laughed out loud.
"No laugh." said the gypsy.  "Dark energy, this man, yes? He gets angry."
"No, he really doesn't" she told her, an just about lost all faith in the gypsy as being all knowing.
The two friends left the store soon after.  The blue eyed one was told that for $20 more she could help take the bad energies away.
The twilight had all but disappeared and the pink bubble glowed in the night.
"Wait," the blue eyed one said, "I want to take a picture of this pink globe thing in the window".  Just then, the gypsy lady came out the door.  "Come again tomorrow night at the same time, and I will read for both of you, half price."
They looked at each other, said "What the hell." and agreed to return the next evening.
Back at home, they downloaded the picutre of the pink bubble, and it fairly glowed on the computer screen.  A lovely shade of pink.
"We'll see if she has anything real to tell us tomorrow, I guess, or we'll just be out ten bucks.
The next evening, at the fall of twilight, they set out for the gypsy'store.  The weather was getting cooler now.
They stepped into the store.
"Yes, yes, you come back', the gypsy smiled, and two women peeked out from behind the curtain.
"I tell your fortune together."
She turned over both their palms.
"See?" she pointed at their palms, "Friends for life, but here is a wide space where one goes away for a long long time, but here, they come back together.
The girls looked at each other, wondering which one would go away.
And so it came to pass that the green eyed one met a sailor who would take her to live in California, while the blue eyed one stayed in New York.
Eighteen years would pass before the green eyed one came home again, and now sits beside her friend, writing freewrites at twilight, and sometimes visiting gypsies.



*A free-write is a type of automatic writing, where you just go with your stream of consciousness non-stop. There's no thought to spelling or grammar, and no editing of words. Supposedly this opens the mind up to greater creativity. They can be 5, 10 or 20 minutes long. Suggestions for freewrites are always welcome. Visit Evie, with whom I freewrite, at the space between colors.

153/365 habit

My worst habit is smoking.  A bad habit that I honestly enjoy.  What can I say.
These freewrites have become habit, writing them everyday,sometimes multiple times a day.
Other than that I can't even think of good habits I might have.  I need to develop some of them.
There's a fine line between habit and addiction, I think.  Either way, it is a heavy psychological (&/or physical) thing.
Going to the computer soon after I wake is as much an addiction as it is a habit, I suppose.
I'm in the habit of drawing up the same sites everyday, and checking to see what's new.

152/365 annoying things

I can honestly not think of many things that annoy me these days.  Perhaps if I keep writing I will come up with something.
My niece, Melissa, is annoyed by a lot of things -- the sound of people eating or breathing, too loudly, God forbid there's slurping.  Once she had a co-worker that hummed, and it really drove her nuts.
It annoys me when I don't get help in a store when I'm needing it.
I annoy myself at times.
I used to find many annoyances in Steve, oh so many years ago, when we lived together, once our relationship soured.  There probably wasn't a thing about him that didn't annoy me.  Geesh.

autumn festival

Went to the annual Fall Festival down on Shore Road yesterday.  Logan got to paint and sparkle a pumpkin.  There were vendors of all sorts and some music.  It was a lovely day, weatherwise.  Logan got his outfit for Halloween, he's going to be Woody, from Toy Story.

151/365 Dylan

Way back when, I had a handmade sign in m office, quoting Dylan -- "20 years of schoolin' and they put you on the day shift."  No truer words could be spoken about my life at that time.  Dylan does that, brings the truth out.  He can caress with the softest of words, and just as well cut like a knife.
I remember Jim singing Dylan to me, on our way down from the mountain. "You're gonna make me lonesome when you go."  Be still my beating heart.
I remember my sister, in the Sixties, had a neon colored print of Dylan, that said "Mr Tambourine Man".  It was very cool.
Today I don't know what Dylan is up to, although he has out a new album, I believe.  Hopefully he is still writing poetry.

150/365 fashion

This subject makes me laugh, because I truly know nothing when it comes to fashion.  I am beyond fashion.  I wear jeans a lot, and I figure they are always in fashion. When I was in my twenties, I remember reading all the fashion magazines -- Glamour, Mademoiselle, Cosmo, etc.  Still, these pages didn't much influence what I wore, because everything was exhorbitantly expensive.  My own style is low key, and I'm sure unfashionable, from my head down to my shoes.

149/365 groups

For the most part, I am not comfortable in groups of people.  I have been in some groups of my own making, though, that I've been at ease in, and really enjoyed.  Like the writing group that me and Steve ran when we lived down in Manhattan.  Or our shamanic group that met at our apartment every month.  Groups of five or six people.
I don't favor parties and have been to very few over my lifetime.  I had a Halloween party with Steve one year, got drunk, and walked out on it in a rabbit costume.  Not a Jessica Rabbit costume either, but a big bunny suit, like Harvey or something.  Anyway, I walked out, no doubt pre-menstrual, and unable to handle the pressure of assuring everyone had a good time.
There are groups at the mental health center I go to, but I don't frequent them at all.  Joined in a couple some years back, but never felt that good about them.  I have a hard enough time talking to my therapist one on one, nevermind talking in a group.

148/365 spaces

I have been in sacred spaces.  Inside the Medicine Wheel, so precisely built the the directions.  East South West and North.  There is a different feel inside there.  A calm, a slowing down.  I can say the same thing of walking into a church, I suppose, but I truly don't feel it as I do with the Wheel.  A space in nature.  That is where my church is.
My personal space is cluttered, and not at all what I know it can be.  I like simple digs, but light and airy, with lots of uncluttered space.
There's the space between colors, a sort of second sight image that I hold in my head.  That the name of Evie's website.  I think it's from a poem she wrote, oh so many years ago.
The space around a person, encompassing their aura.  Sometimes I can see flashes of these colors around a person, around their hands, or head.  It's a gift, I know, and one that I wish I could develop further.

a friend in the Medicine Wheel.  Tai Chi player in the background.

147/365 clocks

Standing under the clock in Grand Central Station, I waited for Steve every week.  A scene from an old black and white movie, where the characters always met under that clock.  I was in love.  It was part of our romance.  "Meet me under the clock." he'd say.  "I'll be there." I replied.
I no longer have an alarm clock wake me in the morning.  I rarely have something planned for the day, so why use it.  I do use it on weekends when me and Tree spend the day with Logan and Melissa.
When I was younger I aways wanted a grandfather clock. Wonder what the was about.
I've had clock that ticked when they pass the seconds. Really annoying.
I like clocks but I don't wear a watch anymore.
A clock can take forever to move when you're waiting for something or someone.  And races past when times are good.

146/365 alone on a deserted island

To read the sky everyday, as one would read a newspaper, would be something.  Above the wide expanse of ocean, and tropical land.  My island has many fine fruits, coconut and mango, and the sea is filled with many fish for the choosing.  In my bag is a copy of the I Ching, and I throw the coins every day.  There are animals in the bush, but none choose to harm me.  I make music with my Kalimba, and the birds sing along.
I have wi-fi, and can reach all points of the earth on my trusty tablet. (oh there's electricity, too).  I'm not really alone at all.

145/365 church/religion

I am not a church goer.  I went as a child, and stopped going when I was about twelve.  The sermons were in Latin.  The frankincense and myrrh were too much for my nose and stomach.  I'd have giggle fits, sitting next to a friend.  We weren't reverent at all.
Today I will enter a church if someone is getting married in one.  Ash Wednesday, if I get around to it, and Palm Sunday, too.  I've gone in a church every now and again to light a candle for someone.
I pray to God.  I like the Native American's idea of the Great Spirit -- it resonates with me.
I have a spirituality that extends further than my Catholic upbringing, though I believe in Christ, and His resurrection.
I don't usually care what religion anybody is, as long as they're decent human beings.  I don't like Bible thumping people, or any fanatics of religion.  Get over yourselves already.
In this neighborhood there are a lot of Muslims, and I'm surprised there aren't more Mosques for them.

144/365 daydreams

I used to daydream, but I don't know if I allow myself to do much of that anymore.  A daydream, I think, is a sign of hope sometimes.  The conversation you want to have with someone you love, or your dream house.  Well, sometimes I think of my dream house.  A quaint little place with a garden, and a good amount of land.  Neighbors at a fair distance.  A place I could have my own sweat lodge, perhaps, and not be seen.  And a pool in the summer.
I daydream now about the next time I'll see Logan and what new things he's doing or saying.
I used to daydream about becoming a writer and writing a novel.  Now that I've done that my daydreams should go a little higher -- daydreaming about getting published and reaching a large audience.
I guess I do allow myself some daydreams after all.

143/365 earliest childhood memories

I remember my father walking up the block, coming home from work -- two bags of bread in his right hand, white and rye -- and I would run to him, whereupon he'd put the bread in the other hand, bend down, and scoop me up.  This happened innumerable times.
I remember the sleigh ride down the hill in Sunset park, where I crashed headfirst into a broken bench and shazrds of ice, and went home hurt and with a bloodied face.
I remember tumble saulting at Taffy & Terry's, and nothing else.
My baby doll in the Christening outfit.
The neon Pontiac sign, an Indian head, across the steet from where we lived.
My parents, aunts, uncles and cousins outside of there on summer nights.  Cousin Joey riding me around in his red wagon.
Keeping an eye on either my cousin Ed or Carol, while my aunt Evelyn went upstair to get something.
One of my most vivid memories is a pipe dream -- I remember watching my mom and dad in a ballroom dancing contest on tv.  My mom wore a gold gown.  They won a vaccum  cleaner (that happened to be the one we owned.)

142/365 cars

I remember tooling around in my little Chevette, back in the 80's.  It had a rusted out floor board on the driver's side, leaked oil (but ran on virtually none!), and turned on without the key in the ignition.  I loved that car.  It took me all over.  To Medicine Wheels up in White Lake, NY, to shamanic groups in the Hudson Valley.  It was my trusty companion on a camping trip alone upstate.  I was sad when she died altogether.
There were other cars after that, but I cannot recall what kind.  One little black one that I smashed up and went through the windshielf with my head.
My last car was a Chevy Lumina.  Nice and roomy, 4-door.  I had it while living here in Bay Ridge.  Where parkin is scarce, so I never took it out much.  Must've went on a few journies.  Ah yes, to a women's group in Pennsylvania with my co-worker, Ann.  That was a good weekend.
A car is always taking you some place.  It's a wonderful tool.

freaky friday

Tery, at, Willow Creek Studio, says that "Every Friday we will get freaky, silly or goofy! You can simply share a freaky dessert, painting, photo or anything that is cool and fun. You can try the traditional Freaky Friday and walk in someone else's shoes; switch roles with your kids or significant other. Creative tip: If you are stuck with ideas simply use the seasons and holidays to spark up projects."

So here is my post for this friday.  A very old doodle. Done with colored pens.

141/365 neighbors

I live in a big apartment house with tons of neighbors, but I barely interact with any of them.  There is some cordial chit chat with a few who live on my floor; usually while waiting for the elevator.  I don't know their names.
My best friend, and free-writing cohort, happens to be my neighbor, living just down the hall from me.
I remember living with Steve, on Senator Street, just a block away from Bliss Park, as we called it (really named Owl's Head Park).  We had real neighbors there.  Of course I cannot remember their names.  But they visited us and gave us hot peppers from their garden.  They were two gay guys, who made an unusual by harmonioius couple.  One being a little dramatice and emotional, then the other who was more staid and logical.  I enjoyed their company. 
I imagine it would be nice to live in a neighborhood where you got to know many neighbors, but I think you almost have to be a home owner for that.

140/365 planes

Walking into a plane is like enteing the road to the place you are traveling.  I have been on planes few enough times to still have a wonder about them
Riding clear over the United States, and spending hours over the Atlantic -- looking down through the skies at the Grand Canyou, or the landscape of Norway. 
The food on the plane used to be good, or so I thought.  I don't know if they feed you anymore on a cross-country trip.  Things have changed.  When I went overseas, I had to take off my shoes when checking in.  It was my first post 9/11 plane ride.  The food then was very Finnish -- salmon over rice.  Later a snack of cheese on buttered bread.  Already my home sickness kicked in.
As I get older, and in light of the attacks, the idea of being on a plane becomes less appealing.  But oh the places I would like to fly to.  Germany for Ocktoberfest, and to taste their wonderful breads, just like my father made them.  Many places I'd like to see right here in the US again, and for the first time, like that Grand Canyon we flew over.

flying into the sunset, San Diego to New York

139/365 ice cream

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream.  How many times have you recited those words as a kid.  Waiting for the Mr Softee tune to turn down the block on a summer's eve.  Creamy goodness melting on the tongue, refreshing your mouth and cooling your body.
I just at a cup of Moose Tracks ice cream with Evie, in preparation for this freewrite.*  It just inspired me to say "Yum" -- I mean, what ele can I say?
I used to love getting the cone of soft pistachio down Coney Island.  Nothing like green ice cream, mmmm.



*A free-write is a type of automatic writing, where you just go with your stream of consciousness non-stop. There's no thought to spelling or grammar, and no editing of words. Supposedly this opens the mind up to greater creativity. They can be 5, 10 or 20 minutes long. Suggestions for freewrites are always welcome. Visit Evie, with whom I freewrite, at the space between colors.

138/365 gratitude

I am grateful for these moments, sitting with a friend, on a late summer's afternoon, writing freewrites together.
I am grateful that I was able to walk around the neighborhood today, on my own steam.
I am grateful for my family and my friends, each having a significant part in my life.  I am gratefuil to my cats for bringing life to the house.
I am grateful for so many things my life has been blessed with.
I used to keep a gratitude journal, where you'd list 5 things every day that you were grateful for.  I tended to repeat things day after day, and the writing part of it soon grew boring.  It was something I know in my heart, anyway.
Take time in your life to be conscious of what you're grateful for.


*A free-write is a type of automatic writing, where you just go with your stream of consciousness non-stop. There's no thought to spelling or grammar, and no editing of words. Supposedly this opens the mind up to greater creativity. They can be 5, 10 or 20 minutes long. Suggestions for freewrites are always welcome. Visit Evie, with whom I freewrite, at the space between colors.

137/365 sexuality

We all come into our sexuality around the same age, give or take a few years.   But the sexuality that defines you may take years in the making.  I reached my sexual peak in my thirties, and there were some high times during those years.  My libido soared, defining me better than anything else in my life.
Now that I am in my late 50's, my sexuality no longer defines me, but take a back seat to life, in general.  I have some hope, but not much, that a man will come along and awaken tht which seems to have grown dormant.  It is a great loss in life, after enjoying it for so many years.
I don't have any problems with people who are of a diferent sexual orientation than me.  Gays and Lesbians have their own paths to walk with their sexuality.

(pic taken from the internet)