Archive from September, 2007
Sep 28, 2007 - Trainride, weird    12 Comments

666

I had something happen to me tonight that was so bizarre and out of whack that I had to blog a bit of it.
After working in Boston for well over three years I would have thought this situation would happen there but life is not always so predictable.
Tonight, I came face to face with 666.
She came in the form of a woman 70+ years of age.
It all began as I was arriving at my stop tonight.
I made my way down near an exit door and found a seat to wait for the train to stop.
Across the way was an old woman looking out the window; 4′ 10″, black skullcap, white hair, weird clothes . . . yup, she’s nuts, I thought; a Poltergeist extra, basically.
Strange thing was I could see her face in the reflection of the glass and she was looking at me, studying me.
I didn’t think anymore about it and I began to quietly hum a blues song by a preacher named O.V. Wright, called “Don’t let my baby ride”, a favorite song of mine.
About 30 seconds before the train stopped, she walked over to me and got right in my face.
Weird right there, dude.
She asked about the clothes I had on (shirt and hat, compliments of my oldest daughter’s college) wondering if I attended said school.
The conversation went haywire from there and I refuse to write it here simply because of the amount of profanity. (on her part, not mine)
This hag seriously creeped me out but before I walked away from her I did say, “Please take your medication and do us all a favor and go play in traffic, you bitch.”
Not sure what else to say except that it doesn’t get much weirder than this, and if it did, I’d blog it and probably be rich.
Anyone curious about exactly what this gasbag had to say, email me.
I remember a few snippets but I was too freaked out to remember all of it at the time.
This encounter was just too freekin’ weird folks . . .
I’m now home, smoking a cigar and drinking Harpoon Octoberfest.
Life is once again, okay . . . for now.

~m

42

Found a very cool article on making your Google searches more efficient.
Click on the pic above and learn how to find the ultimate answer to the question, “What’s it all about?”
Still recuperating from a week or so of crazy days.
Man, I’m beat.
Check out the link. Cool stuff.

~m

Sep 24, 2007 - Angels, Birthdays, Life, Love, Music, Truth    19 Comments

My one and only love

My Pamela,
You can still make this old heart skip a beat, make my eyes smile, set my soul on fire just by being you. Oddly enough, it’s not as surprising as you would truly like to think.
I still really love us.
There are so many things I’d love to give you today but a favorite love song is about all I can muster and afford right now.
You’ve heard this song many times before as an instrumental but probably never like this.
May you be surrounded by many people that you love tomorrow.
I couldn’t wish for anything nicer for you.
You are so loved and sometimes you don’t even know it.
And I have a feeling that’s exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow.
Count on me, kiddo.
Happy Birthday, green eyes.

9.25.2007

ps. No V.F.W. post either . . . :0{) >

~m

[youtube=http://youtube.com/watch?v=TA8Ca-oTuLU]

Irony?

“There would be more of us here but, so many of us are in jail.”
written on a sign held by a protester supporting the Jena 6

Quite honestly, I’m speechless.
Kinda . . .
Is life weird, or what?

~m

Rock on

Michel Camilo last night, Michael McDonald tomorrow night.
Guess who’s not going to be blogging this weekend?
I’ll catch everyone up on Sunday night.
I will tell you that Camilo was more than incredible.
And he smiles more than any musician I’ve ever seen in my life.
More on Michel later.
Have a great weekend folks.
Catch you on the rebound . . .

~m

ps. a very special birthday is coming up next week. Stay tuned.

Letting Go

I find myself once again at a crucial and necessary point in my life where a situation leaves me with no turning back and no time left for second chances.
If this post comes across as somewhat cryptic, it should,
I’m in camouflage mode right now.
There’s a part of me that wants to run away if only to spare myself the inevitable emotional turbulence most likely to be encountered . . . but I can’t run away anymore.

It took a conversation with a very special friend to help me see the proverbial ‘forest through the trees’ and there will be no turning back, no gazing in the rear view mirror.
The time has come for me to sit one on one with my dad and tell him it’s alright to let go.

He’s holding on for reasons that only he knows.

I’ll take his aged and creased hands in mine and tell him as lovingly as possible that my sister and I are fine, that my mother waits patiently on the other side, that he can finally rest his weary head.
There’s a selfish part of me that never wanted to experience a scenario such as this, a part of me that wanted some silly miracle, an impossibility and medically improbable wish upon a non-existent star.

The little boy in me just doesn’t want to give his father the blessing he truly deserves, and though I understand it I’m having a very difficult time with the goodbye part.

I just can’t let go.

In my heart, I see my mother as I did that day long ago, on
Mayflower Beach but this time she’s not walking away she’s holding out her hand to my father.
They’ve both been alone for far too long and I know my father’s heart can’t take much more.

I have to tell my dad, ‘you can let go now‘.

I want him to touch the stars, and be that long forgotten prayer I’ve held inside me since they both got sick; I want them to once again be together . . .
Maybe I just needed time to understand that.

There will be a crystal winter night in the not too distant future that will find me gazing at the mysterious night sky.
A star will sparkle in such a way that it catches my eye.
As I look a bit closer I’ll notice that it’s not one star, but two.
Maybe then I’ll be able to let them go.
Though I doubt it . . .

~m

Sep 18, 2007 - Friends, Life, Love, Poetry, Truth, women    No Comments

In the heart of a friend

Now and then someone writes a post especially for me and I find myself at something of a loss for words to convey my thanks and deep sense of gratitude.
Writer/Poet Sarah Flanigan reads between the lines of much of what I write and has
written an emotional and moving piece just for me.
Click on the window above to read “Behind the glass wall”.
You’ve touched my heart, Sarah.
And I thank you dearly.

~m

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