25
Dec
09

yesterday on tumblr

Yesterday on tumblr many different things occurred; some of it true.  For one, the sun came up; there were also many holiday/christmas/good cheer greetings/exchanges of recipes/food network photos (o.k., not true,) links to etsy (as if,) beefcake, beefsteak, and a few beefs, good weather, bad weather, embraced by family, missing family, disco balls, punk rock, hard rock, metal rock, soft rock, elvis & nat king cole, fashion (high & low,) literary references, quotes, rants, chagrin, amusement & reflection (you know who you are.)

The dogs got walked.  Please note how difficult it is to focus (on anything) when you’re managing two leashes and two dogs eager to pee/poop/smell every blade of grass.

Nature, as is its want, put on a display of magnificent proportions:  referencing Maxfield Parrish & urban graffiti in equal amounts of color, form & volume; all that was missing was a signature (and a buyer/of its reality/surreality/dada/modernism/conceptualism/minimalism.)

For my part, I thought about content (it’s king!) and I carefully considered composition/color/control (or the lack thereof) exhibited by nature at this hour of the day.

After all these years here, oftentimes it feels brand new–each day–other times–each day–repetitive, faraway, isolated & lonely.  I long for the city again, the energy, the pulse, the horns, the liveliness of it all.  If M. were willing/the housing market too/I think we’d be out of here as quickly as the sun rises.

Even in this day of ‘social media’ where I can connect with so many people so easily (& so smartly–I know it’s pandering to your baser instincts, but who doesn’t like a compliment now & then?) I believe I’m reaching a burnout point–and yet, on fire too, with possibilities/opportunities/youth.

But these contrasts & comparisons(the new journalism) bring to me visions/sightings/dreams/harsh reality/of the frigid dawn/tumescent land pushing hard into the soft folds of the ocean/purple headland diving, diving, diving under the liquid cover of the sea/dragging me down, kelp hair streaming behind, in extremis.

And yet.   And yet.  And yet, the words/thoughts/deeds/action/stasis all draw me, like the line of a jet trail and its symbol of hope/adventure/anticipation gradually building its rhythm & intensity/the roar of its engine ever so faintly falling falling falling to my bony labyrinth, reverberating/resonating/revealing its truth.

Yesterday on tumblr nothing happened, he whispered in my ear as we settled down for a nap.

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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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