Category: Travel

The Patriot

On By cjx07sterIn Existentialism, Travel, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Foxboro Jan 15White, icy, damp and strong, the snowman appeared in the courtyard as if just visiting.  We fashioned him, or made him into something fashionable with his New England Patriots bling [the week before the superbowl].  If you build a snowman big enough, life-size, you cannot help but want to get a picture with the guy.  He with Clive’s hat keeping his snowy head warm and his glaring orange eyes, spinning around in eye sockets from the wind… and his frozen carrot nose, borrowed from the kitchen in the lobby.  The twig for a mouth made him rather grim so we tried to cheer him up a bit with the Patriot’s bling.

It got colder and wetter as the rain started, and we left for the warmth of the lobby. A short time later we looked out and our poor Patriot, standing there toppled over and became another pile of snow and was no more.  He had lasted less than an hour but in his short snowy life had been kind enough to stand quietly for a snapshot with one of his creators.

Para Sol Para Memo

On By cjx07sterIn Australia, Dreaming, Simple Stories, Travel3 Comments

‘Its going to be hot. 40c today  – no rain though – maybe bush fires!’.

‘do you think the spiders hiding behind the lizard thermometer on the window will notice ?’ she’d said.

‘You know there’s only one little black guy – perhaps it ate the other one’

‘Yes they weren’t the same kind – so maybe ?’ – I agreed.

I had dressed looking forward to the early morning walk to the train. Took some care. not too much. Then thought about the hat – perhaps the white one from Seville – been round the world a few times and a great design for the sun. Perhaps the black Akubra with a range if native bird feathers. A guy with a trumpet smelling of alligator had stopped me in JFK. He’d acclaimed how bad the white hat was and perhaps I’d sell it to him – the black hat a bit too formal and winter season – not good and therefore not bad enough.

I stood near the door – looking through the glass at the solitary thermometer hugging spider – – 30c it read  and it was only 8 am.

I remembered of Bogota Columbia where in Chia, a nearby village I remember the band at the local restaurant on a Sunday.  The leader had a parasol which doubled as a conductor’s baton – terrible bad music with raucous trumpets, strident violin and a single side drum, no alligators, but massive strong sun – under the parasol he conducted and sang the lead.

It was the light that reminded me of that time, perhaps the light and the spider, perhaps the light, spider and lizard.  But that’s the beauty of memory for ideas.  They come straight out memory beaming at you like.

I grabbed the umbrella as I opened the door.  Perhaps it would make a real bad parasol para mi.

Had to see a man about a dog.

On By cjx07sterIn Australia, Love Story, Poetry, Simple Stories, Travel1 Comment

Stand all alone, bare beach

Cold hands warm waves sandy feet

Bag of oysters – sharp as rocks – good to eat

but the love, of his life, out of reach

Should she ever coming back forgive the heat of the conversation when they meet last time ?

He really wasn’t sure of that and feeling quite level headed decided that actually there may never be another conversation.  He turned around and stepped southward along the shore walking along the water margin and whistled to his dog to catch up.  At least Oscar would stick with him he hoped.  The stars were coming out and he stopped and looked into the sky.  There was constancy there in the dark with the celestial sphere up there.  Gradually rotating inexorably at the same speed day in day out.

‘Oscar! – he shouted over the sound of the waves.

A bark and the dog was up to him already standing back and waiting for him to throw something.  He picked up a bit of driftwood and through it into the waves. The dog bounded in after it and after some few moments came bounding out of the water, flicking salt slake all over the place and then giving  a good shake after dropping the wet stick at his feet.

“ok you old joker — Oscar, I suppose you’ll miss her as well – eventually.  What if the whole world slowed down and the days got longer and the stars moved slower, he asked ?  Would the moon care Oscar ? Just because the days get longer, doesn’t mean the year would. Still take the same number of heatbeats….. all totally wasted no doubt.  Would she notice ?”

The dog barked – still waiting for him to pick up the stick.

He picked up the stick and started drawing in the sand.  First a heart, then some initials then – the dog sniffed and barked again.  They both sat down and got out the bag of oysters.

Shucks the oysters

wags the dog

moonlight glistens

stars are gone

warm waves sandy feet

suck the oysters – aftertaste – feel the beat

but the love, of his life, out of reach

Fishing Tale

On By cjx07sterIn Art, Love Story, Poetry, Travel2 Comments

Teriiska RopeFloat

 

take ———– rope ———strength ———–is—–the——- thing

take some floats – with a single space like a ring

—

thread the float with the strong rope thing

—

take another float – like bangle thin

—

add to the string to stretch the idea

—

repeat while busy

~/~

~/~/~/~/~/~/~

until you have the length you need

it becomes a strong arm to stretch a net

and save it from drowning in the sea

I hope it will catch

sparkly fishes

for you

and you

with your arm

around me

 

Photo: Tersiiska:Flickr – Used with Permission