tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-44859465139733149952024-03-08T12:52:41.860-08:00realizations and illuminationsLife of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-27567826134173537032011-01-01T01:31:00.000-08:002011-01-01T01:39:29.694-08:00New YearYou are you, even with the new year coming...came.<br />
I am me despite one year.<br />
Spots on the pavement and pot holes on the highway<br />
tell me one thing. <br />
Everything that is permanent is inside.<br />
Forget the indoor parlors or living areas,<br />
couches and throw rugs.<br />
Take your mind to those interiors that<br />
soak up every experience, that drip personality, <br />
and belch opportunity.<br />
Inside, covered by flesh and scars,<br />
where destruction can dwell but has to be invited,<br />
and can as easily be chased off;<br />
like the 15 year old<br />
who made fun of you and all your friends<br />
at your 12th birthday party;<br />
making a point to point out your costumes<br />
and matching party hats. <br />
White with red and green stripes.<br />
But oh well. <br />
What good is a 12 year old mocking<br />
if taken too seriously. <br />
Especially from a 15 year old,<br />
who was not invited to your party<br />
but desperately wanted to be.<br />
<br />
Some things change. Others are changing.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-67619159365791280082010-10-16T22:40:00.000-07:002010-10-16T22:40:14.622-07:00religionMy church is in the trees,<br />
where the wind can preach.<br />
My sermons in the sound<br />
of the leaves on the ground.<br />
And my God, He is in my heart<br />
and everywhere else I failed to mention.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-68898404793850515712010-10-14T00:01:00.000-07:002010-10-14T00:03:51.899-07:00fall always lifts me, moreso than other seasons10/10/10 - To December and Past<br />
<br />
These changes, this weather,<br />
feels my veins with fire. <br />
There is nothing in nature as delightfully foreshadowing<br />
of the wonder and the warmth to come.<br />
<br />
Spring launches my spirits.<br />
Summer calms my aching palms.<br />
But Fall, fall screams.<br />
It lifts me when it parachutes down.<br />
Holds me when it bombards me. <br />
<br />
A fire pit is what everything becomes,<br />
not on fire but drenched in timber and smoke;<br />
yelling, demanding a flannel fortress<br />
to protect the thoughts that only escape<br />
on the smoking breath of outsiders.<br />
Outsiders not because they are apart, <br />
but because they are not indoors.<br />
<br />
Wonder is only on the horizon. <br />
It’s just peeking but it again, feels me with purpose.<br />
There are dreadful things coming<br />
but so is Christmas and old friends,<br />
new memories and a lot of paper,<br />
pages and pages of paper.<br />
<br />
When I dream I will remember the blizzards<br />
and remind myself that the cold is your poison.<br />
Good thing we have a fireplace now.<br />
I can build a fire while you are still stretching under sheets.<br />
One that will dance skyward until you have arisen.<br />
One that will be complimented with a sweet embrace from behind<br />
and a solid promise to keep you warm;<br />
something you already know.<br />
A promise you’ll expect to be carried out<br />
so you can make it past December.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-77324573070297253732010-09-25T14:04:00.000-07:002010-09-25T14:04:43.926-07:00I love the fall.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-3290915524964759902010-09-18T08:13:00.000-07:002010-09-18T08:13:41.586-07:00stargirl and two books of poetry in a leather bagIt has been a goal of mine this year to always be reading a book. Of course I stop to work and eat food and shower but I always have a book in my possession that is in the process of being read. When I finish one I pick up another. It is one of the few planned goals that I have successfully kept. <br />
<br />
In addition to reading a novel of sorts I have also made it a point to carry two books of poetry in my bag. You might say a man's step is a little lighter that way.<br />
<br />
I have Billy Collins and Pablo Neruda in my bag right now.<br />
<br />
I have read:<br />
<br />
-<b>A Thousand Splendid Suns</b><br />
Few books address human struggle and relationship in a finer way.<br />
-<b>Shoeless Joe</b><br />
The movie Field of Dreams is based off of this book. If you have seen and even kind of liked the movie you have to read the book. There are themes, added dimensions, and characters that left me thinking for days. The wife, the old man, the twin brother, J.D. Salinger. A compelling story of dreams, hope, and family.<br />
-<b>Green Shadows, White Whale</b><br />
A book from the wonderful Ray Bradbury about his life and adventures in Ireland as he wrote the screenplay Moby Dick for the great and very strange film director John Huston. Fictionalized truth, off course; effective, always. Such great short stories within.<br />
-<b>The Road</b><br />
Father. Son. Perhaps the most beautiful relationship in literature. That's all I will say about this horrifying and beautiful book.<br />
<br />
I re-read:<br />
<br />
-<b>The Outsiders </b><br />
I read to study Pony Boy for my screenplay. His character and contrasting atmosphere.<br />
-<b>Catcher in the Rye</b><br />
I read to study Holden for my screenplay. So negative but such a sweet and unforeseen desire deep down. To be a catcher, one who saves in the rye.<br />
-<b>Dandelion Wine </b><br />
I always re-read this in Spring. It's my favorite book. It opens my eyes like none other again and again.<br />
-<b>Harry Potter 7</b><br />
I have to be ready for the new film. This series is one of the best of all time. Read Harry Potter to better understand friendship and the necessity of the good becoming one to overcome evil.<br />
-<b>The indispensable Calvin and Hobbes</b><br />
One of the most sincere, hilarious, and heart warming creations of all time. I <br />
have cried more than once experiencing life with Calvin; not just from laughing.<br />
<br />
*I found myself reading several young adult books and for that I am very grateful. I have discovered that <b>books for the young are books for everyone.</b><br />
<br />
-<b>Percy Jackson, The Lightning Thief</b><br />
Such great themes of identity and coming of age. A lot of fun. Don't see the movie!<br />
-<b>How to Eat Fried Worms</b><br />
Not as good as when I was young but still funny.<br />
-<b>Holes</b><br />
Awesome. A great read. Mystical, funny, great comments on relationship and purpose. A lot of talk about a no good pig stealing great grandfather.<br />
-<b>Star Girl</b><br />
I just finished this and I am still thinking about it. Such an interesting character. Truly the book to read on non-conformity. I hate Leo while relating with him. Perhaps that is why I hate him. I am still mad he did not go and find Stargirl. She was love.<br />
<br />
I am currently reading <b>Red Pony</b> by John SteinbeckLife of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-18780647989710697612010-09-15T09:22:00.000-07:002010-09-15T11:13:14.192-07:00it was fall, and still will be, but you missed it, temporarilyHe ran. Oh, he ran. Timothy, only twelve years old, was known in the town for his running.<br />
<br />
No bicycle; his family definitely had no car; but Timothy's shoes were always thick. If they ripped, his mother sewed them. If holes formed in the bottom, his father would re-sole them with an old tire or anything he could find. <br />
<br />
His shoes were always thick.<br />
<br />
Some days Timothy ran for bread, milk, or the local news. Now he ran to catch a boat. A boat he had already missed. A boat he only thought about boarding.<br />
<br />
<br />
In my town I never run and today it no longer smells like fall, as it did three days past. It is September 15th. The scent will return; but the elation, the inspiration that came with inhaling fall's sweet nectar disappeared when I, too busy, did not write it down.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-74400686174162751872010-08-31T08:16:00.000-07:002010-08-31T08:16:38.567-07:00illumination's struggleSummer has hidden its brilliant face.<br />
The trees argue. Back and forth;<br />
trying to decide what message to deliver, whether to tell me<br />
t-shirt or jacket<br />
Inside or out.<br />
<br />
This morning, the fighting has stopped.<br />
Most of the trees are silent.<br />
Others, roll over lazily to peak open an eye and ignore my presence.<br />
Regardless of their final conclusion,<br />
I'm already wearing a sweater.<br />
<br />
The day looks promising<br />
and the morning is perfectly new.<br />
By the time I drink my raspberry leaf tea, I may be in short sleeves<br />
but for now I push the future out of my mind.<br />
<br />
In the present, sunshine has creeped onto this page;<br />
like a starved man in the desert, it drives fingernails into line,<br />
trying to reach the the mirage that is book's end, ahead.<br />
Suddenly the light stops, rests. Exhausted. <br />
<br />
The page--halfway illuminated, half in shadow.<br />
<br />
It's difficult to see such brilliance struggle. <br />
I could move two feet over <br />
and leave the page engulfed in light.<br />
Yet I do not.<br />
<br />
Illumination's struggle sounds like a good name for a religious text.<br />
But these words are recreational, a different type of worship. <br />
A striving.<br />
A hope.<br />
<br />
At times, a desperate clawing to day's end--<br />
blessed because my eyes remain open.<br />
damned because sometimes, with no apparent reason, no lack of sleep,<br />
no sign of illness, I shut them.<br />
<br />
Refuse to allow vision. Thought. Feeling.<br />
<br />
And so I just float.<br />
Away.<br />
Fearing what I've already heard.<br />
Dreading what I've never seen.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-80628064752225914992010-08-27T15:21:00.000-07:002010-08-27T15:22:25.572-07:00i never claimed to write perfectly but i hope to write often.There was a man in my stairwell that I had never seen before. He tipped his hat as I passed by and told me that my step mother was a block away, buying oranges at the corner store. I do not have a step mother, I replied. And if I did, she would not like oranges, I added. But he, he was persistent.<br />
<br />
<br />
This did not happen to me. It never happened to anyone I know. But it popped into my head. <br />
<br />
One, because I am a strange boy. Two, perhaps I will never understand. <br />
<br />
I never claimed to write perfectly but I hope to write often. I certainly never claimed to write purely non-fiction.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-82420825040077898482010-08-25T21:45:00.000-07:002010-08-25T21:50:38.838-07:00tragedyIt is 7:15 am. August 25th. <br />
<br />
My best friend's wife, Catey Smith Warner, is on the sidewalk en route to the bus stop to start the first day of her last semester of college. <br />
<br />
She dances. She is a dance major. She teaches ballet to young children.<br />
<br />
Remember it is 7:15 am.<br />
<br />
Before she arrives at the bus, a truck going 35 mph, swerves off of the road and strikes her. The driver is under the influence of heroine and other drugs. <br />
<br />
He is 22. <br />
<br />
Jeremy Warner, my friend and her husband, awakes to a phone call from the police. I awake to his phone call; to my best friend crying.<br />
<br />
Catey breaks her nose and bones in her face, needs staples to close a head wound, and shatters her knee.<br />
<br />
She is a dancer.<br />
<br />
He is a drunk driver.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-36901875753876735732010-08-24T09:46:00.000-07:002010-08-25T21:52:30.544-07:00an illumination from the pastJuly 1, 2008<br />
<br />
Unfortunate and disappointed do not have the same meaning.<br />
<br />
It is unfortunate to finish going to the bathroom before realizing the toilet paper is out. It is disappointing to realize the person you love, does not love you back.<br />
<br />
It is unfortunate to stub your toe. It is disappointing to borrow your friend's favorite book, read it and not like it; knowing you will have to be honest when they, bright eyed like a child, ask for your thoughts.<br />
<br />
August 24, 2010<br />
<br />
Today's realization: <i>disappointed</i> is often too weak a word.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4485946513973314995.post-2731466795904709812010-08-23T09:51:00.000-07:002010-08-23T09:51:24.291-07:00the reason for this blog's existence. to remember or to discover and not forget.“Tom,” he said, “you and your statistics gave me an idea. I’m going to do the same, keep track of things. For instance: you realize that every summer we do things over and over we did the whole darn summer before?.. That’s one half of summer, Tom.”<br />
<br />
“What’s the other half?” “Things we do for the first time ever… Thinking about it, noticing it, is new. You do things and don’t watch. Then all of a sudden you look and see what you’re doing and it’s the first time, really. I’m going to divide the summer up in two parts. First part of this tablet is titled: RITES AND CEREMONIES. <br />
<br />
The first root beer pop of the year. The first time running barefoot in the grass of the year. First time almost drowning in the lake of the year. First watermelon. First mosquito. First harvest of dandelions. Those are the things we do over and over and over and never think. <br />
<br />
Now here in back, like I said, is DISCOVERIES AND REVELATIONS or maybe ILLUMINATIONS, that’s a swell word, or INTUITIONS, okay? <b>In other words you do an old familiar thing, like bottling dandelion wine, and you put that under RITES AND CEREMONIES. And then you think about it, and what you think, crazy or not, you put under DISCOVERIES AND REVELATIONS.</b> Here’s what I got on the wine: Every rime you bottle it, you got a whole chunk of 1928 put away, safe. How you like that, Tom?”<br />
<br />
-A quote from <i>Dandelion Wine</i> by the great Ray Bradbury.Life of a Sailorhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00340246536483967109noreply@blogger.com0