The Public’s Eye

Life’s experiences, upsetting for a normal human being, is nothing more than a growth pain, a rate or according to his own circumstances, yet his status as a celebrity and everything involved with it were about his fortune and fame. Now the majority had to endure all the four seasons. Not having to do this was measured and sharply criticized by the people who criticize in general, celebrities who are in the public’s eye. To them he was a great celebrity. Well, he was, in a sort of way, but not like the actors on a movie set, not those kinds of celebrities. In fact, he was a billionaire.

It was obvious that the beginning daylight had spread its light so fast. Because on this day more than any other day, he could not grasp the onslaught of the meaning of the details especially since the turn of events made him the winner as was almost always the case, for him, revenues just keep pouring in. To him it was still nighttime, or early on in the hours before sunrise, he however was relaxing and having his morning coffee recuperating from the nights that are so entertaining.

And then when dawn had arrived, where he was going, it was farther away, but into the darkness he flew, soaring ever higher on that jet airplane, taking a westerly direction, heading across the Pacific Ocean, where he would cross the international dateline chasing the rising sun. He needed to catch some sleep against the many tasks at hand, he wanted to be caught up on his sleep during his mission, during that flight. He was trying to catch some z’s when there was little to catch and so little time. He did rest only when there was a lull in the flight pattern, stopping at island nations when he could, the ones that dotted that vast ocean. 

He was escaping from the events of the season, cutting them off so to speak. This was something he decided to act upon and soon. He flew his ‘private jet’, or he had it flown to the Southern Hemisphere while he himself was onboard. There it was summer. There were a variety of decisions to make, a variety of suggestions. For him this was the beginning of a new season and he needed to get a jump on it rather quickly.

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The Cry of Loneliness

I came through France and the beers there seem to be made with a pickling sauce, it tasted lemony flavored with citrus served up in a place with a sort of commotion. It’s not like the moon was already full, what was all that commotion.

During my travels into another country, I have come across a farm village. There is a rather large place that stands out in the middle of some place that looks empty. It looks like time has passed this place by.

There is a main road. They are signs saying there is a Pension/Hotel. The front door is wide open. I got it wrong.

Here the passage of time has stood still. Tired as I am, it’s a keepsake for those who still dwell in the past, I’m sure of it!  I hear a raven’s cry outdoors.

There’s an emptiness in this rural place. I guess it was once a lively place. No, perhaps not. Shall I ask if there are any vacancies. I see no one. Would I like to stay here? I’m not sure.

Okay, there’s a small park where I can sit and do nothing, it’s just across the street. I guess I could sit out there and read my book all day. It’s open to the public. Should I? 

It sounds handsome enough. Now I’ve stood still long enough to notice my surroundings and I see that there is nothing or no one out here.

Well, there is no one around anywhere. I do like the place though, it’s quite peaceful and different.

Yes, I did get it wrong, it was someone’s home. Oh, but that park is very inviting, I think I’ll see what I can do about that.

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At Times Taste Tester

This sat upon me on a particular Sunday how we did go and stuff ourselves, gorging on certain courses of good food and begging for more. While having more wine and two desserts for instance, just the sort of thing to bring in our day to whatever we fancied, to do nothing but feast ourselves on whatever menus come to mind. It was the food and the company of friends that made us gather together and for whatever reason. Now I’m making coffee this morning and it has to be perfect!

At times as naysayers, we become skeptics. Of all that we witness, of what we remember, can think of, what we see, otherwise hear. Then we’re cynical in our train of thoughtful interpretation. This sparks a conversation, whatever it’s about.

At times we may witness what words cannot say or speak, creating doubt ending the thought process. And there may be some topics words cannot describe at all and you wouldn’t even know how to begin. I mean, you may have a close friend who could understand you, sometimes you find yourself lucky enough to capture in words what you want to explain in a conversation. I have tried so in this blog.

At times the taste testers were the ones who took the samples provided to them from the kitchens. There were some of the cook’s helpers back there and chefs too of course. Then there also were the suppliers, they were in the supply chain. The prices of the ingredients they used were negotiated by the requisitioner, a separate person who was also part of the supply chain. Then at the other end were the growers, the workers in the field, all of their equipment as well as their own suppliers and their requisitioners all required for such a large enterprise. 

The trick was to foment various thoughts into the mind’s eye at the moment the product was tasted, as it was placed in the person’s mouth. This was no doubt about an advertising scheme. This was for the final end product by the way, and you see these products at grocery stores. Anyway, the sort of thoughts any at all, any thoughts derived by them from tasting the special and secretive ingredients, one at a time, what one thinks of, each one’s thoughts were different. One they were working on was that of a ‘Merry-Go-Round’ envisioned inside the taster’s head as ingredients were being pushed into the taster’s mouth. It was the most difficult thing to do, you know, watching and waiting for these testers to indicate at the precise moment they could envision a ‘Merry-Go-Round’ if any had occurred when their mouths were full of the secret recipe.

So here I go on any given Sunday, a weekend to go about the task of concocting a great tasting coffee. If you’re a coffee fan you’ve probably tried many variations of the different methods of coffee making then too, whatever was convenient at times a taste tester. It all seems artificial in flavor although the many extracted flavors did take the bitterness away. I mean, my coffee had to be at a certain temperature and served in a certain ceramic cup, have the right sweeteners put into the coffee I would drink, also cream.

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When Lovers Leap

“That’s Fine! Just saying, you could just let me know by saying, “leave me alone,” and I will. I know when I’m not welcome! I’ll see my way out!”

I started to dabble with writing using this one particular app and with a particular smartphone. And this was started with Twitter as a way of acknowledging that there was a way simply to state the facts as they were, that there wasn’t any evidence thereof. No, I was so new, I didn’t know that all sorts of people were doing the same thing simultaneously tweeting sarcasm. I had forgotten about certain types of grammatical errors and so I would later join certain Facebook writing groups. They each played their part along with reading actual books, many books. I had a Blackberry smartphone at the time that had an actual keyboard. It was not a screen type keyboard.

Nowadays I like to capture photographs using a better phone. Here I have actually witnessed a worker who was farming this field. This particular place is a well known place. And I’m sure it has been photographed many times. Here the farm worker was using a tractor/baler mowing a field of tall grass fodder for the animals (polo horses). And after seeing other photos online quite like my farmer’s field, this one eye-catching photograph was of the same tall grass. There were two people walking through the field.

Just at a glance the photograph took me away from my conclusive decision about what I was viewing. And you have to rely on your resources to come to the conclusions of the minute details of what you as a photographer have noticed, however the general public would not notice, they would miss it altogether, so I guess. Although that’s what captures the allure of an artist’s piece, it’s the story at a glance. It’s either a painting, a sketch or something photoshopped a piece that was printed and many were distributed and sold, nonetheless a conversation piece and ultimately a love story. I think everyone is interested in a love story.

And right here I can hear the lady telling her story over and over, about how two lovers here at last have leapt into the unknown, reaching out for the other, of where they are now in this field located by a hillside strolling along. To the viewer they’ve taken this leap from that hillside from a steep embankment. The couple moves toward a body of water or a lake closely by. She calls her art work displayed, ‘Lover’s Leap’  which is a place-name given to many stories where lovers have jumped to their deaths. These two lovers in her artwork are alive and are happily together. 

This picture however or painting begs to ask the question; how come the tall grassy field wasn’t ever harvested, whether it be summer wheat or just tall grass yet to be harvested. I think perhaps the landlord forgot that one particular area. I think too that the artist forgot that particular sequence of events related to land management.

The job of course is too difficult an arduous task: take hugely oversized equipment to this rather difficult sloped terrain and then take and bale out the tall cut grass using a thatcher and then using the heavy equipment making smaller bales for the farmer’s animals. Impossible yet plausible, if all done by hand of course. And it was probably all done by hand a few centuries ago, except for some diversely antiquated pieces of equipment.

So having now felt content enough, I wish to allow the photo to remain mystifying to the viewer’s eye. But then the romance is so lovely as depicted. I think it illustrates the landowner’s son in the photograph. It is a beautiful fall day and he takes his leisurely stroll along with this lovely young woman both wearing warm clothing maybe going to have a picnic. Yes, of course the tall grass is in place and is standing out in the field covering the sloped terrain which is so steep and that’s to prevent soil erosion.

*change will have to occur in an instant through the slipstream of time, time moving forward and at a glance, otherwise we would not have put two and two together so quickly to ever notice, although time does move forward yet very slowly.


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The Bride Who Danced 1000 Years

In this setting I would rather have my characters’ names put in the inset, as well as their beautiful location. It’s an obvious predicament to name them to identify with them and also to place them in any such notoriety of places if they were in such romantic places. I think it’s a beginning. This couple were young, about twenty years of age or so. that depicts any such famous notoriety of style and of a romantic nature. Then I think everyone has a beginning. Theirs has been for about twenty years or so. The cliffs were a more perfect setting a place to dwell by the sea, also for a wedding to be held near the ocean’s shore overlooking the cliffs out towards the sea. And the expansion of the castle’s ground nearby was welcoming for the wedding entourage to explore. I did not limit myself to any such city itself, well, maybe a favorite hangout spot. Yet these are my words and this is my photograph. Hey, if the shoe fits, wear it.

This was their wedding day. After the wedding the crowd of gatherers were on their way to the festivities. This particular evening shortly after the wedding ceremony had taken place there was a brusquely show on stage. It had already started and had set the stage for the festivities, a festive occasion that attracted the attention of the crowd, obscure and mysterious. The colors worn by the performers were characteristic for darkness to plague one’s thoughts, and too, strange people had gathered around the field of guests like they did not belong or adhere to the wedding’s formal settings. There were many guests who were celebrating the couple’s new beginning. And neither would the bride and others awake (2001) the next morning. For these people the first shadow of light hadn’t shown at all the next day. And in the morning while the dawn didn’t show, the djinn took them away.

Well what do we have, if nothing is of the next day upon this earth, nothing worth living that is. To awaken with the thought of holding on to the shadows of a previous hellish night that the devil is in the details, and he is expecting an answer. And all are waiting for the dawn and the scrubbing away of the previous night’s activities: the liquor, the wine, the food. And of the bridesmaids, who by the way are still by his side, the side of the groom all laying perfectly still and asleep. Only now causing all hell to break loose.

The bride she slept all the next day during the daylight, shielded by the Earth’s atmosphere far above. The air she breathed in was something like a mist and it weighed heavy on her. She was still wearing her lovely wedding gown.

On her spiral downward she became aware of her mistress. It seemed like an animal-like creature of a cat. It sat above her head looking down at her. It said nothing about the place to depict any sort of relevance or reality, only silence. And neither was there any sort of romantic setting like the one she had seemingly fallen asleep in. She was spiraling into darkness. The bride herself arrived in such a desolate place that in her mind she knew not to or didn’t invite trouble or ask so many questions but it was here that she noticed the cat was sucking her breath away.

Upon arriving at the location the bride got up and started to run under her own power. The cat was chasing after her. “Get away from me you bothersome creature,” saying this to the cat so it would comply with her so-called terrifying demands. This was the space and time she needed to give her some time to think about where she was going. Soon it would always be this way, running away from an otherworldly like creature, finding space and time apart from the creature, in the space of her own. Soon after the cat would be gone and she could breathe more easily so she would began to dance. And she danced and danced for a thousand years. She was so happy.

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Down Memory Lane

I can explain heartfelt memories. This one is about the neighborhood where I once lived. It was the first time in a long time that I saw the place where I once lived, it had changed so much. I didn’t recognize it or grasp any of my surroundings as it was back then in my mind. I have witnessed first hand where changes are inevitable.

As children we didn’t know, I hadn’t known that through the city there were walls of financial problems whose residents within the ruined walls that the city villagers, their families and their dwellings were walled off from one another in front of the little streets. This was towards the back of the property.

Now, the walls are so much taller than the view from the pedestrian road in the back alley. What I was trying to remember was, what had catapulted us children over these walls back then. It was in order to get a chance to play with our newest buddies, our neighborhood friends. The garbage cans are what catapulted us over the walls. But back then, the walls weren’t never really that high. We didn’t know any difference.

Still, it is I whose wishes are to mingle here reminiscing and mentioning those things, to have my own conversations within my own mind. There were improvements in that neighborhood. Reminiscing, I feel it’s a way of admiration, of ideas and sayings and such, of the things that I wanted to send. Also now, those who had lived here probably don’t remember much about it. Sometimes in life you may have your doubts, so you have to go see it for yourself. It’s because they have all gone on to be of great success and be smarter perhaps. 

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Sure Thing

The void is simply beautiful, the abyss is that of our darkest days, and she’s not ready for that long journey. The void however is still within her, her temperament to where she belongs. The void is simply beautiful because it’s the best thing we can touch. It’s still unknown. 

On second thought, I’m getting these two words confused: indigenous and aborigines. No, I don’t think so. Be careful out there because they are ravenous and they are creatures of the darkness and the abyss. They won’t listen to you and are clearly lessons learned from the past. Stay away from them.

Sure it’s a thing. Her story was as simple as that, a sure thing.

Although I was intrigued, it was just that I wasn’t ready for really dramatic things, but only pleasant things. Yet however the loneliness crept in, I still wanted it candidly, in moments of whatever was going on inside my mind, “get out there for gosh sake, let folks know” and I’ve heard it all before where people were supportive of me. But hey, coffee and snacks for now with our chit chats going on and she needs a friend, so do I.

Someone ‘of the effect’ is trying all over again I can tell and he is someone handsome and strong. And these are the relevant moments I take for myself -to relish my freedom, to do whatever I want. I was friends with him and he was a friend of my ex, one of ours. Isn’t that good enough?

You turn the page and move on, or do you. I know where to find him and I’m not running all over the place. I guess he’ll do, sort of, as if I am his if history repeats itself, my ex’s friend, he was my friend, ours, now all mine.

Occasionally he would open the door and quite often, to try and extend conversations with me, each other, and as couples she’s a special person to have some coffee with, I took too much time with her. I was stalking her and her music too. Anything to get inside her mind. All’s fair in love and war, so the saying goes.

So you see, I’m actually quite grateful for a friends’ presence, conversations and small talk. Gentle persuasion from a light and lively person, no strings attached of course, just friendly chats, words by each person and at differing times of the day, mornings or evenings. I’m asking his ex so many questions.

He eventually knew that we were talking about him. It’s that period in our life, a journey we take after we have grown up. We’re adults now and we’re somewhat losing them, aren’t we, the ones we’ve known closely. The people who are on our friends list who are said to be from a period of time who we are now involved, how our lives are shown to them that it needs to be asked, do we really know them any longer. Although I had to find out more about my ex’s friend from his ex.

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Hitchhiker

“I’m going to have to research that Interstate highway I was just on. There’s nothing really there, it’s new. I’m going to say, maybe jump on a bus that will take me through there, better still, hitchhike on that Interstate highway. Later, get a hotel room, that’d be a really good conversation starter for a likely date!”

Now that lovely freight train blows its whistle. The track is right behind the hotel where the hitchhiker is staying. “What hours do they keep,” the train’s engineer asks. It’s in the middle of the night.

“Oh this isn’t for them, they’re sound asleep.” His assistant adds. “It is for the track and the street traffic going across the track. So we won’t have a collision.”

“Oh, those people in that hotel room, their lousy lovers, they’ll need to be woken up.” The engineer says the darnedest things.

“Where have you taken me,” says the hitchhiker. This was after waking up from the previous night’s longest ride to somewhere unknown. He heard a loud rumbling sound and a very loud train whistle. He felt bad and he was so tired and groggy when he woke up. He was whisked away into a hotel room having hitchhiked across the interstate farther south somewhere along the gulf coast.

We’re all human beings. The hitchhiker hadn’t known about the driver. You sometimes are torn between doing things mediocre or doing what you feel is best.

The driver had already gone, it was two hours before midnight.

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Outdoor Café

We arrived early and stayed late. Some acquaintances however often showed up fashionably late. The music that you hear is more about the violinist heard, a street act but then it’s a nice place, a low roar. This was outside of a sidewalk café.

As we gather and more frequently, where we enjoy the conversations of those who love incidental contact, slight words of conversation starters and the intimate moments we share, these incremental moments are not anyone’s fault, we have to do it we just love to.

We have had a few drinks and then all of a sudden as when we start to get up to leave I accidentally fell down on top of her, this lovely lady. We laughed. That!

Every night I get tired, so I go to bed rather early.

We’ve had our hors d’ oeuvres, drinks and cocktails. Here the place is definitely summer time, the feel of the weather is hot and sultry. After a good night’s rest I will be outside of first light. There is a park nearby. That!

There standing in a field is a reserved plantation nearby. This is near the park where I do my morning walks. Looking more closely I can see they’ve got beehives all around and that’s all I know. It looks like they’ve got new help, new hired hands.

Here looms trouble, I think so aloud and no doubt. There’s more to be reckoned or learned about than to just be standing around yet still, they’ll never know, they’re too young.

Now here’s an instance of caring on my part, as definitively one could determine. So I have come here this morning to this job site to ask the up and coming, the younger ones who work with these bees and you know I’m concerned about her because I should be and eventually all will want to help. There seems to be no supervision.

I went to ask her, “Where is your house sitter,” also, “what is this BuzzFeed? Did you know this person, his name was Thinning d’Ous De Beer, he was a cool hipster dude back in the day? Take care of yourself my Darling!” There was small talk. She’s rather young.

She hadn’t known I was her natural father. That life goes on to this day of early mornings. I have to walk, to think about it, to think about whatever you will think about.

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What Reminds Me of You

While walking along taking measured steps along a sandy beach and in my train of thoughts, watching the waves come in, the sequence of events, leading my mind back to you to the present, there is a void. Yes, there were the missing years. What does or why have I been reminded of you?

Saying ‘I don’t recall any of those years’ thoughts or something of what I would say to you, any of those pictures of you I have missed, the passages of time which are not there. It simply means I have missed them, meaning, I have no recollection of you then, no memories at all during those years.

I will try and listen to your memory of your voice, it sounds so sweet, but in reality, even if I try real hard, I cannot remember the one I knew. I just remember I can’t remember either you or your voice. Hey, ole pal you were a friend of a friend who I remember, but I can’t remember you.

Of all the lives we could live, of all the people we will never know, never will be, they are everywhere. That is what the world is.

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