as mentioned at the end of my last entry, i spoke about this “sea glass” thing.
remembering my severe preoccupation in the past with the likes of televisions, typewriters and bicycles – as in discovering, dragging home and stockpiling this stuff in assorted living spaces – i’ve been drawn to wonder if there are any rules as to what constitutes sea glass or how large a piece is before it’s called something else. the saving grace here is that it’ll be hard to find sea glass the size of a TV set. i hope.
the pic above shows glass-brick and industrial-mesh glass i gathered while maxx was “frolicking” in jamaica bay….,
……out there beyond runway 24, which is a great name for a band. there’s a deli, a bar and restaurant by that name, but no band.
if you decide to use it, just send me a thank you note.
where does found glass and sea glass intersect?
how “worn around the edges” does it have to be?
how opaqued does the salt and sand have to make it in order for it to qualify?
“worn around the edges” is a phrase i used a lot when i was selling books, magazines, comics and records before goodbye blue monday had room to physically inhabit the space it does now. it’s more about me than these days.
it’s something in the spirit of “whistling past the graveyard.”
if i ever establish a national park of “phrases,” that one’ll be way up there in the hallowed places, like “old faithful” is to yellowstone.
it’ll be a just south of my national park of favorite words.
it’ll have long, flowing streams of words and wisenesses.
and just like old faithful, “whistling past the graveyard” is something that occurs with astonishing regularity in our own cerebral national parks, whether it’s as we read news of the unlucky, drive past an auto accident or a red-lit ambulance parked in front of something, somewhere.
the momentary shiver, the secondary realignment that starts as a shoulder-shrug and travels from the top of the spine, down and through our allness, fast as the blink of an eye – that “system-check” that tells us that “it’s not ME they’re gonna be carting out of there. i’m HERE…” and the roar of the crowd that lives within us, “still living” is another october (or november) home run, goal, touchdown, kiss, hug, fist-pump, applause or stagedive. it’s the incredible rush that screams, “see how lucky i am?” if you’re of such a mindset, such a moment, other than that place we go when we’re reading stereo instructions, grocery ingredients, psalms – anything to quell the riot inside.
i’ve seen that with my own eyes and it’s registered and trademarked in my memory.
better to dwell on this or dates like 426, 428, 504, 1107, 314, 621, 305, 103, even if they no longer apply to birthdays now, but encompass a number of “termination” dates, anniversaries of “huh?”, whether by choice or design, than linger about the cancellation of a dinner date six months ago.
i dreamed i was hired to run a french bistro and no sooner did this happen, than i was terminated from the position for letting friends run amok in the place after-hours.
when i next looked into the place, it was bare and empty and i felt like i failed myself, but to a larger degree, them.
i failed and that’s a bitter pill to swallow, especially in a dream; especially when there was such hope in the future, a future that ran tick-tock-tick-tock, somewhere between 8:27 AM, 8:29PM and “the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth dimension” where my sadness and disappointment would make way for a sizzling, quark-sized spark of splendiferousness that would evaporate when the phone rings and she says, “this bastard just told me i have cancer and he wants to perform an emergency surgery…. shit…. dinner’s off…i’m scared.”
ingredients: green habenaro pepper, water, salt, garlic, spices, acetic ac, FD&C yellow5, FD&C BLUE 1, and sodium benzoate, as preservative. ingredientes:chiles habaneros verdes, agua, salajo especias, ac. acetico, FD&C AMARILLO 5, FD&C AZUL 1, BENZOATO DE SODIO COMO CONSERVADOR and it plays louder and louder the more and more…….