a few days back, on a whim, i jumped in the car with maxx and headed out to the land of the big tire and the grifting lizards. i looked up the meaning of the word “whim” and remembered i’ve done this before, so i let it go.
it’s bad enough that i continually go to and write about the same place, …. i don’t need to go to the dictionary again for the same word.
i do this weekly three-hour deep-breath making five years without a vacation feel….well, tolerable.
i drove past floyd bennett field, considering to go in, then gunned ahead to the bridge that leads across the water to the peninsula that is fort tilden and breezy point.
maxx began howling and barking as we crossed, telling me how pleased he was with my decision.
maxx never learned how to applaud.
i tend to believe it’s an opposable thumb issue.
when i parked the car, i decided to follow the dog.
instead of heading to the water or the small road that runs parallel to the dune and beach – where i met “maybe willie nelson” and where, a year earlier, one of bernie madoff’s sons passed me on his way to becoming “lunch and a suit” for one of those grifting lizard from mars’ (you know – the one who looks like omar sharif but sounds like eduardo ciannelli) underlings.
no, maxx took me other way, toward where i had discovered those new trails and paths last time here. as we walked, i could hear birds singing in the brush chirping, singing, conversing, but there was another sound drifting in the wind, catching my ears for moments or parts of moments, that i dismissed as the far-off drone of ATVs or trail bikes or even a piper-cub passing in the area.
after hearing it again, this time louder and steadier, it caused me to stop because i wasn’t satisfied with the conclusions my hard-drive was giving me.
i stood motionless and thought i was hearing what i heard in movies, back and white ones, “million-dollar-movie,” movies from when me and my brother chris parked ourselves in front of the television after turning the wheel of the channel tuner to the number “9” in the afternoon of 1964 and hear the theme from “gone with the wind” play, heralding the start of some movie or other from the 30’s, 40’s or 50’s.
this stuff processed through my mind as i heard the sound become more distinct, causing me to clumsily (as if reliving moments of the great blue heron debacle) fumble for my camera, eyes, ears and camera-lens skyward, the sound becoming unmistakable, the sound of “the good war,” the drone of warplanes on the way to somewhere in the past…..
…and this sound, more connected to john wayne movies and scenes from the original king kong ran through my memories as i clicked and clicked and came up with this “in formation” shot.
i wanted to follow their path like a fire-truck chaser “needs” to.
thank goodness the car was half-mile away.
thank double-goodness i’m not a pilot with a plane.
i might do something impulsive-like.
the planes’ sound disappeared but would resurface time and again though i wouldn’t see them.
i would seek the great blue heron, walk paths and trails new to me and listen to the rush of aviary communication that would end with my approach and resume with my passing, wonder about my friend who i hear less and less from, seek a garbage can for the plastic bag of maxx’s business i’ve been carrying with me for quite some time and wonder about the nature of miracles and luck and fortune and tragedy.
i confess to doing that more than occasionally.
if you live life a bit…..recklessly, you tend to look to these matters as part of the math.
without trying to, you factor in this stuff somehow.
that’s how i opened this place here. i “figured” that with a little bit of time and people moving in and this and that, and more venues opening around this strip of broadway, and with everything building and growing and “isn’t life grand,” happening all around me, everything’s gonna be perfect.
i’m sure those BP, Halliburton and Transocean Ltd guys looked at life much the same way as i do, except my wishful thinking doesn’t impact humanity the same way theirs does.
i acknowledge this in my behavior, whether for good or ill.
i heard somewhere say last week that there were something like 260 possible chances of “failure” to occur with one or many of the “whoozitz” connected to the “whatzitz” with that big old drilling platform and that the more they investigate, the more they aren’t surprised.
well, isn’t that just like the folly of anything like, let’s say, what banks and investment houses did? i mean, isn’t it the same thing when you spin scenarios and make plans that profess “intended probable outcomes?”
this is what something like that might look like;
except, instead of coin tosses, we have variables like, “if we can make believe that we’ve done the job, we can call the job done,” and proceed from there.
same thing as bundling up someone else’s unpaid debt, insuring it and selling it as a promise and then betting on the high or low like it’s a football game.
but i’m getting away from the point i haven’t even begun to form.
all of these geniuses – i believe they’re as smart as they think they are. they’re surely smarter than i am, but that’s not saying much – they look at a “catastrophic event” and have the brilliance of their geniusness to be able to disengage from the reality they caused and become a member of the peanut gallery, the mass of the “shocked and amazed,” long enough to forget they had anything to do with it or until they’re able to stooge it out to an available william calley, thus wiping the blood from their hands.
regarding these people; it’s a good thing having a conscience is only a temporary condition. they will regain their brilliant posture in no time.
that might be what separates some republicans from some democrats.
…..and that’s about as political as i’m going to get tonight……
maxx led me east and then south, through the paths that would bring us to where the great blue heron was (that i never photographed).
i decided to document the sounds of what was there, with us as we walked. what follows below is a “nature video” and is tolerable for 25 seconds. the two minutes after that are horrible with the wind making noises like a really bad sound-effects comedian.
this video ends at the marsh where i missed the great blue heron and caught the duck out of water. i took out the bowl and maxx took a break.
a while later, i got this idea that those old airplanes might land where they belonged – floyd bennett field.
me and maxx headed west, where the parking lot and maybe that lizard guy who sounds like eduardo ciannelli and looks like omar sharif might be. on the path back, i saw what i remember as honeysuckles. these were in their springtime infancy with barely the scent that will, in time, fill the air with sweetness that makes you know for sure that in the end, humanity might make a toilet of this planet, but when we’re but a distant fart in the windstorm of time, things like these will abide.
the genius of it all is this;
“mother earth” doesn’t care.
it doesn’t even know it’s a mother.
it doesn’t have to, it’s the universe.
it’s been a year. maybe it’s time for my disclaimer.
“all opinions here are subject to change at nary a moment’s notice.”
i may have phrased it differently a year ago though the message was the same, more or less.
….i’ve been digressing….possibly for days.
me and maxx got in the car and left the fort, looking for the airfield where i might see planes that look like this;
i drove onto runway 33 of floyd bennett field and hung a right onto runway 6…….
…..and rolled to the end of the runway where this hanger is located. i’ve been here before (many times) and tried to gain entrance into this hangar but no dice…until today….
i parked at the water’s edge and we walked to this big room.
the door was open enough for me to decide it was time to walk in with authority.
if you’re lost or headed into somewhere you might not belong, proceed like you own the fucking place.
this was the lesson learned years ago walking in the bowels of the Palladium on 14th street back in a different millenium.
that’s a scrap bar story, so go…(myspace.com/scrapbar).
this is what i saw when i entered the hangar;
i was impressed. i walked around shooting and reading. i didn’t see anyone to stop me but had a feeling that time was at a premium….
….if i could find those planes that sang above me earlier, i know i’d find decals that look just like this one;
but they were not to be found here, only their technological child, swifter and more deadly –
after clicking a few more times, i heard the voice of a man who was definitely disturbed at my presence. he was in uniform, though i’m unsure if it was a military or government uniform.
“what are you doing here?” he said
“i’m walking around with my dog taking pictures.”
“you don’t belong here” he countered.
“sorry. the door was opened. it says on that table that it’s a museum. i even put money in that donations box. this place is wonderful.”
all of this was true.
i could tell he was softening. “well, it’s opening thursday and will be open thursday and sundays through the summer.”
“ok. thanks. we’re gone. have a great day.”
“you too,” and that was that.
there’s more pics in the “earth reclamation project” on our photobucket account here.
and now you know – the museum’s open.