tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70422962011-04-21T11:59:16.779-07:00Thoughts, feelings ponderings on things using knowledge to gain understandingrarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.comBlogger351100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1115310350952856382005-05-05T09:24:00.000-07:002005-05-05T09:25:50.956-07:00

I feel somewhat, in my imagination,Like last year’s leaf brown, crumpled; Left over from winter’s purgeWatching spring come on,From this tiny niche, where I’ve landed.Sitting, I, in the old rocking chairIn my bedroom,Just back from the lap topOn the desk, over there.

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1114972921375321212005-05-01T11:35:00.000-07:002005-05-01T11:42:01.376-07:00

From: Journal: Difference, I …. Like, people being different they usually end up disliking each other— essentially. They come together at a certain point or stage of their lives and caught up there, they combine: sexually, emotionally, they entwine their differences; within the complex of themselves, and through the confusions brought on when one has to confront and deal with difference, in

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1109934904503305652005-03-04T03:10:00.000-08:002005-03-04T03:15:04.506-08:00

The writer conveys his feelings through words out of his own ‘Wellspring’[1] divine. I come, through my Creators being—this being I. This fragment of process, mine own experience. Feeling the light anoint my eyes, I see: rich grasses, tall tress, blue sky; some golden orb in black velvet cloak alight with stars: Your greatest majesty, my wonderful lord, such cosmic dimensions containing these

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1105464165669862402005-01-11T09:08:00.000-08:002005-01-11T09:28:12.706-08:00

Ah... I sits back in my table chair... armed, padded, thing... four of them there be. It's turning nine a.m. this tuesday, the tenth of the year 2005. I'm sitting back... resting, after a cooked breakfast...and looking out my slotted venetion blinds. I see the neighbors wall, and think of myself as an adjoining cell... in some great body... I think of our old stories... that one about a 'cleft,

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1105371069090163892005-01-10T07:30:00.000-08:002005-01-10T07:31:09.090-08:00

08 12 01 There’s this man, I see, now, quite regularly. (When I turn from here: the computer monitor’s screen, and refresh my eyes by looking out the window, at the Trees of the boulevard. The busy life of the main street outside and below my one bedroom apartment. The pine needled branches of the pine, right here, crowded up against the building--- (I should say, where this building crowds up

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1104001941917088082004-12-26T11:12:00.000-08:002004-12-26T11:12:50.556-08:00

I've got this far.. One day I am going to put right in my profile... lol We oldies--it takes us so long to learn new things... I'm forever wondering

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1104081139982734432004-12-26T08:35:00.000-08:002004-12-26T09:12:19.983-08:00

I'm up early as usual... Yesterday was a blast, but not for long... A daughter came by for a couple of hours or so... We had some brandy... turned on some tunes.. I finally got up and danced; her and I: 30 years and seventy three, ha, ha, ha. I remember dancing; being really gone on the electric guitar whine, screaming the blues... I, with eyes closed... just letting go... I woke up this

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1103999369631266842004-12-25T10:19:00.000-08:002004-12-25T10:29:29.630-08:00

Here and there throughout the world, an old one stands behind the curtains, alone; looking out. Not quite sure how it happened... So long been with the crowd and all its industry and bustle... How many Christmases being digested now back through time...in the memory: Ones own child, Him and her together; in love... children arrived--- each Christmases there's more... brothers children, sisters

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1103039674129167132004-12-14T07:42:00.000-08:002004-12-14T08:00:56.250-08:00

You get up finally; six thirty a.m. not yet light... Work at eight... bike ride down silent, dawn light, streets--- some lamps still on... time though to make that morning coffee, be fore you go. You sit... the old one upstairs has been up since three something... you had woke to the first floor creak... and turned over and went back to sleep... You sit and sip... think about things: Thirty

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1102783432704726632004-12-11T08:42:00.000-08:002004-12-11T08:43:52.703-08:00

I was watching the news this morning early, as usual. They were, among other things, showing and discussing to some degree, the fate of peoples on the Philippians’ Islands; some, particular one… Mudslides currently happening, after many other storm disasters—weather conditions deplorable. I didn’t retain to much of the words, but the images burned themselves deep into my memory… These people,

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1101427052904475342004-11-25T15:35:00.000-08:002004-11-25T15:57:32.906-08:00

Well, I'll tell you right off, I'm not big on that. I live's by myself--friends, family, come and go... It's a one bedroom place--hardwood floors...above a city street. I'm a male--Old, it's true. but I keeps the place clean, other than that. I mean, I like things... things I can arrange into meanings...things, like momentms; that have meaning, attached to past events. As one ages,

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1100126309572218532004-11-10T14:20:00.000-08:002004-11-10T14:38:29.573-08:00

Ah, she's grieving... leaves are falling... Sumer's leaving... How short the time for dreaming... Brown to orange yellow filled with sunlightOne by one they falland many falling altogether... We grow old.The seasons followThrough our colors changes.

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1097426647543934622004-10-10T02:22:00.000-07:002004-10-10T14:21:15.876-07:00

I'm not sure if I can catch it all from six a.m. here; 'Pacific time', as I understand it is called... Sunday morning; not properly light now 'til seven--seven thirty...( never expect me to be precise--I can't). There'd been no connection...I and her, over yesterday. I had waited for her to innitate... how indellibly that was now etched into my reality... the warp and weft of me--personal piece

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1096672094761479562004-10-01T15:31:00.000-07:002004-10-01T17:40:02.903-07:00

What a shock, heh..."How many times in a person's life, in this kind of world; construction-- of buildings, machines, weapons; "Oh Lord! Don't let me go down that drift..." My logical self--whatever took hold some, of the control and came back to what was mine... "No, I ain't going to cry: I did that yesterday. First, here in the room--Uh, My, "Living Room," of a three room suite, up among the

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1096554163233774052004-09-30T07:19:00.000-07:002004-09-30T07:22:43.233-07:00

I stopped doing it some time back but look at this: Gotten from the "Google" News site this morning... Merck to Withdraw Vioxx Because of Heart Risks (Update1) Sept. 30 (Bloomberg) -- Merck & Co. said it's withdrawing its Vioxx painkiller, which generated $2.5 billion in worldwide sales last year, because of data showing an increased risk of heart attack and stroke....

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1096517155448644582004-09-29T20:43:00.000-07:002004-09-29T21:05:55.446-07:00

So, today, up to the docs I went: 9:45 appointment a.m.... early will be fine I said, as she was looking though her appointment book... receptionist up at the waiting room. Lord, hey! Suddenly a chunk of time hits you... Thirty years; a little over... when I first stepped inside here... well it wasn't here, then, it was across the street down a bit... But this is my docs.. A lady half

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1096418601055514942004-09-28T17:43:00.000-07:002004-09-28T19:11:32.123-07:00

Okay! I'm old now: laugh on; make with your wit... pay for your drinks sitting there together while one of you stands up there on stage ... Ah! it's your time, and you should laugh... I did... I didn't have a clue about them... They was really weird... you stayed away from them, heh! I mean, when you are really young--passing their dwellings... seeing one suddenly pop out, reaching out to you...

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1096203676300883742004-09-26T05:32:00.000-07:002004-09-26T06:01:16.300-07:00

Yep.. I was running through the channels last night on the old TV here... nothing much happening in my head... Saturday, a lot of the folk out there, dresssing up in their best and partying it up...I came to Channel 25, here: "Bravo"; and, here was George Burns, in his ripe old age, standing there with his big cigar in hand, (No Cancer there), puffing between jokes... He thanked the crowd for

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1093980808452002382004-08-31T11:47:00.000-07:002004-08-31T14:37:24.686-07:00

I had paused in my doings... sipping a cup of tea, I looked out and down from my window... this one bedroom, above a fairly busy street in a city somewhere.. heh... and I thought: I am seventy three years old and here I am waking a six year old...granddaughter... from her nights sleep... She and her mother laying down together last night... turning eight p.m. after a busy day for both... One, at

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1093377095568218792004-08-24T00:48:00.000-07:002004-08-24T12:51:35.566-07:00

Heh! Look, I am not going to organize, whatever comes out, but just let it flow.... Three of my daughters have shared space with me, this month of August... or was it July? my middle one came out from back east?--her, and her man of these many years, now-- Man from another country, another culture, another set of experiences... imprints of cline, parents-- all those many forces that

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1090951507052222462004-07-27T11:05:00.000-07:002004-07-27T11:05:07.053-07:00

Who cares... time enough for that... I'se gone. 

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1090689158050190402004-07-24T09:42:00.000-07:002004-08-10T12:26:24.266-07:00

She's thirty now; thirty years old: my youngest child. Heh! What am I experiencing here, in these different views each of us is...revealing fragments of ourselves in vulnerable moments. She and Him, now breaking apart-- A particular 'him,' she met and connected with way back in Junior high-- which lasted right through 'High' itself, when they both left it and went on into adulthood together. They

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1090256391807197962004-07-19T09:53:00.000-07:002004-07-25T08:22:44.960-07:00

     Off they went, finally... this morning, my daughter and her daughter... daughter trailing behind, calling down the hall:  "Mum!" after her. They had been arguing over the little ones shoes,  the older one attempting to get them laced up... urging her on... It was  my daughters day off from her work...tomorrow, too. They are temporarily, living with me just now as she goes through separation

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1090003825404195322004-07-16T11:28:00.000-07:002004-07-16T12:01:58.353-07:00

Hey?  I'm sitting there: over there, at my kitchen table; not bothering anyone...into my own private drift thoughts that I have, about things...and the phone rings: snapping me out of it: a 'trigger,' to a response to  stop thinking and do something... like: answer the phone.   Where is it?  Is the next darn thing, calling for action. Thoughts all broken up now, as I rise; like tipping a table,

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1089669795015671142004-07-12T15:01:00.000-07:002004-07-12T15:03:15.016-07:00

And being here, we; this human, but barely enter that edge of the greater awareness from those primal swamps we have come from… is knowing us now as one of its cells, perhaps. All that doing behind us and we, now; of the shore, those waves of influence from doing, endlessly following one after the other into our knowledge… seeping down into the well of us—drowning the ego of its false life…

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1088451463739613572004-06-28T12:37:00.000-07:002004-06-28T12:48:16.383-07:00

Exploring old age, unraveling it from the tangle of things believed, into the truth of one’s experience of it… allowing it to take its unique form in oneself. Does not mean necessarily decrepit-- There may be some physical weakness from when one was at ones peak, in such things-- There maybe some wastage owing to disease, such as in my case, a form of arthritis… ‘osteo’, that afflicts many and

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1087941900432394632004-06-22T15:05:00.000-07:002004-06-23T06:20:20.663-07:00

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1086893771676979242004-06-10T11:56:00.000-07:002004-06-10T11:56:11.676-07:00

rare turns in your direction 

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1086720387904992862004-06-08T11:26:00.000-07:002004-06-08T14:00:10.893-07:00

I Placed my portable phone back in its base and sat back, half reclined; looking now out through the window at the pine and chestnut trees outside.. Huge those chestnuts are...with large, nobly, deep grooved girths, years old, I guess. The light wind was tossing their greenery about, sprinkling sunlight into their depths, and as I admired the scene before me now, at the end of my recent phone

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1086399971132011112004-06-04T18:23:00.000-07:002004-06-04T18:46:11.133-07:00

I didn't recognize her voice right away, when she said: "Hi Grandpa, how are you?" I said I was fine... She said, did I still have that cat? I was puzzled... My granddaughter was here the other day... They just live up the road... The one from my youngest daughter: Number eight of eight children... I presumed it was her, but the voice... And things like this she was saying didn't seem just

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1086389544496824042004-06-04T15:51:00.000-07:002004-06-04T15:52:24.496-07:00

I and Anna…. I tell you right off… no doubt about it: I am in love with her… She works over at the food store, I use, for getting my groceries…most of my needs—not all. It’s close by, and I can go out back of here—this complex, and nip through the car park and in the side door. Ha, ha…and it’s like I am in another dimension—just a short trip through space—I in transit… old sandals over my two

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1086219322475399092004-06-02T16:34:00.000-07:002004-06-21T13:23:10.160-07:00

I set this up a few days ago... ha ha ha... and never did get around to the subject as it was: "A piece of my day at seventy three." So much has changed since then, and only now am I getting back into that kind of rhythmic pattern, that, I was going to disclose...ha, ha. Then one of my daughters came; bringing her man to meet me. Man, she has been with now for a number of years... Not the

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1086120452732754572004-06-01T13:07:00.000-07:002004-06-01T13:07:32.733-07:00

I'm still riding the bicycle.. but this a couple of years back...  

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1085339943834108912004-05-23T12:16:00.000-07:002004-05-23T12:19:03.833-07:00

This is definitely a ‘blog’; I mean it is written to all of you: other ‘bloggers’—Back there: my first one, is the first I have ever done… was the first time I knew of such things. It was passed on to me by my oldest son… lives away from me, now… passed on via a ‘link’. Don’t get me wrong, as I saw it was a writing- reading, thing, I was not put off. I love that. Emailing back and

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7042296.post-1085076596579031162004-05-20T11:00:00.000-07:002004-05-20T12:32:17.676-07:00

Strange, how ones life experience contours, as one grows on into it--getting to here, say, where I am: experience of seventy three years of life...Of human life; with what I know of its history: This Human. What it knows of the surround... Out of which it would appear I with you, have come: Some of it old, like I am; some of it young like I used to be..., etc.. Some of it in other countries...

rarehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00183141858254367644noreply@blogger.com0