Posts Tagged ‘time


so, um, 63 (how the hell did that happen?)

Now more than ever, aging takes on its own personality. It wasn’t something I gave too much thought to when I was 20, 30, 40, or even 50, but the 60s put a new, pardon the expression, wrinkle into the concept of time.

IMG_0350It’s different, somehow, this new notion of time, age, and the space one inhabits–moves through. It’s both slow and fast, muddy and clear, predictable and completely random. Sigh. (He thought to himself, that by now, it would have been easier.)


I’m not quite sure what to make of 63 yet, but I’ll tell you this: I’m glad I’m here to be 63. Which is something, I promise you, that I never thought I’d ever say.


on wasting time

we’re all guilty.

some more than others, i expect, but right now, it’s me. there is something i’d like to be working on and i feel incapable of starting it. well, that’s not exactly true, i have started it, but it feels as if it might be too overwhelming a task to continue. it’s part of the reason why i took a ‘hiatus’ from this blog–short as it may have been–i was hoping that the time off would allow me the space, the opportunity to tackle the project. but no. it sits still in its folder(s), untouched (not unloved, though), waiting patiently–words have a way of doing that, don’t they? waiting patiently, that is, where would they go? your ‘you’ tapping its foot in exasperation at your lack of motivation–waiting as you are for the spark to light the fire under your sagging ass (which comes with age, the sagging ass, another disappointment.) it’s possible that writing about it, publishing my confessional, that inability to focus on what i think may be a good thing for me to do, but using all of the convenient exasperations of life to set it aside for another day, would be helpful. today, i’m afraid, it is not true. this may be the story of my life…the desire to create burns brightly, much gets done, and yet i walk away from it time after time (whatever ‘it’ may have been) leaving the room half-painted (an obscure reference to an early apartment in chicago, written about already, stored in a drawer, pulled out today for a little airing, it’s inconsequential and you should ignore it.) what i’m hoping is that by nagging at myself in public, i may find the strength of purpose to [i should not say “dive in” or “plunge in”–the trite phrase my bailiwick, my waterloo, but those phrases came first to mind–caught in the throat of my typing fingers–and now i’ve spoiled whatever other way of saying it i may have thought of and so…] do what needs to be done to achieve the fantasy that is swirling in the nether regions of my consciousness.


palms (i didn’t mean to forget you)

the great thing about nature: it doesn’t care about time.

these palms had slipped past me this week and had patiently waited (they said, one can never be too sure what with the language difference) for their opportunity to be posted here on robert patrick.


palms (1)

what activity in your day (or night) would you be willing to give up in order to have more ‘time’ to do what you think needs to be done?

that long, possibly unidentified (you’ll know it when you see it, like pornography) list of things you’d like to do, if only you had more time.

if only i had more time, i’d read all of the blog posts i subscribe to and comment on them.

if only i had more time,  i would have refinished the wooden patio furniture that is in desperate need of sanding and staining.

if only i had more time, there would be no rogue grass growing in the east garden flower beds. (a note: a few years ago, in a moment of what i thought was brilliant forethought, i spread wood mulch all over the east garden. the following year, grass — not lawn grass, but clumpy-weedy grass — carpeted the garden, growing up between the day lilies, by the thorny bottom branches of the roses, around the sharp edges of the succulents, between the rocky borders, every-fucking-where. since then, it has become the bane of my gardening existence. if only i had more time.)

if only i had more time, i would have more money. as we all know, the less time you have, the less money you have. the wealthy have all the time in the world, why even one of the mitford sisters said that she refrained from using an airmail stamp (remember those?) because it indicated she was in a rush, which someone of her wealth and social standing would never, ever be. that’s left to us poor schmucks, rushing around, always in a hurry, because we don’t have enough time.

if only i had more time, i wouldn’t have to stop writing this post to get ready for ____, because you know, if only i had more time, i could finish everything i started.


century plant (the here and now)

i haven’t thought about time all week.

perhaps i dipped a toe or two (maybe a whole leg) into the past, but i have not looked forward, nor tried to divine the future by reading tea leaves, wetting my finger and holding it up to gauge the direction of the wind, looked out to sea for a sail breaking over the horizon, stared deeply into my crystal ball (what? you’re surprised i have a crystal ball? really, you shouldn’t be. how else do you think i am able to dig so deeply into the time(s) of my life?)

what is most impressive, to me at least, is that i have lived in the moment or for the moment, however you want to look at it, all week long. it’s not that i’ve consciously sought out the ‘now’, but at the same time, the ‘now’ has seemed to be enough for me (in a “how-now-brown-cow-kind-of-way.” which reminds me, i had a speech impediment as a child, not a stutter so much as an inability to properly pronounce certain consonants; alright, i had a lisp. my mother, wisely and presciently, sought out a speech therapist and i spent a couple of years working on overcoming said ‘disability’.)

there’s something to be said for living in the now, except for what can be said for looking backward and forward–a balance that you may spend your entire life trying to maintain. i suppose we could all take a lesson from the century plant; it seems to know the secret of maintaining its equilibrium, ignoring time entirely. for now.


untitled (red dot auction, may 11th in costa mesa)

i’m busy,

really busy. much of my attention is focused on the 2nd annual red dot auction, the spring fundraiser for the chuck jones center for creativity.

what’s that you say? oh yes, you’d like to attend? click on ‘red dot‘ for information about the event and to rsvp. it’d be great to see you there.

more later as time allows.


place-holder (before and after)

i’m working on something else.

this is a diversion while i work on that something else.

it may even be considered a waste of time. (i know what you’re thinking.)

and then i blew the candle out.



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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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