Circumstances

Maybe in the end, the circumstances dictate the pace to the point where light and dark blur into shades of grey - into shades of unobstructed moonlight, dripping with liquid fire. Maybe in the end, the irresistible force meets the immovable object and the confused gives way to the coherent - the grey dissolves, into nothing, into something. Dare I say, there are paths we have not crossed until we are made to cross them - paths of soft sand and hushed whispers. Maybe in the end, the circus comes to life and the shadows retreat giving way to the fantastic, the eerie and dynamic thunder.

As the descent continues, perhaps we change - we adapt to a weary state of shades of grey and their circumstances.

Authors Note: Interestingly the above came to me as I was looking at some black and white pictures of certain poets. Their poses and facial features seemed content, maybe even blissful. Compelled me to write.

One of God's Very Own Prototypes

Desperate times call for desperate measures. In his case, his life was a collage of desperate, crazed and dangerous times. How he found me is almost mystical. Perhaps I needed a jolt of sorts to jump start the soul. Then again, it was following 2001 and the devastation that 9/11 left not just in the American identity but also in the global psyche, that perhaps surfaced his wicked soul. Don’t get me wrong; he was around for a lot longer prior to those treacherous events - scouring the globe during his journalistic missions, which usually consisted of Chivas, guns or some sort of chemical. It is befitting, given his impact on me as a writer, but most importantly as a citizen of the world, that I pay homage to one Hunter Stockton Thompson on his birthday July 18th.

Simply put, his writing kicked my ass hard. It wasn’t just a kick in the shins by a 7 year old girl (which has happened...), but more importantly it was a wake up call – a punch to the heart and a bat across the back of the head all in one. Whatever compelled me to read his work I’ll never truly know. Perhaps it was a dangerous mixture of wanting to act like a savage and rebel against the institution. Perhaps it was Hunter’s penchant for kicking ass and taking names. There was a message to be extracted from the ramblings of this man from Louisville, Kentucky. Live life. Live it as if you knew that everyday of your life was to be your last. Behind the facade of his chaotic and irresponsible life was the message to live and live well. It is a lifestyle more than just a simple statement or a Facebook status quote. It is part of the fabric that makes us who we are, a part usually discarded or forgotten, or put to rest somewhere in the basement of our lives. I’ve met my share of individuals throughout my travels and I can count perhaps 4 or 5 who got it right. They got it right because they did not discard it or store it for a later occasion. They ran with it. I ran with it. I continue to run with it. And I hope my kids also continue to run with it, because it is a concept as critical and soul branding as air is to us. Live.

The many nights in San Juan; the time in Hawaii searching for Lono; the many many rum filled nights full of music and laughter and camaraderie. Thanks Hunter for kicking me in the face during dark times and flailing attempts at living. Thanks for the craziness and unabashed chaos. You left a legacy which will move forever undaunted by the weight of those who simply choose to slug along. Happy birthday you old goat – put in a good word for me. You got it right.

“Walk tall, kick ass… love music, and never forget you come from a long line of truth seekers, lovers, and warriors.” HST

"So we shall let the reader answer this question for himself: who is the happier man, he who has braved the storm of life and lived or he who has stayed securely on shore and merely existed?" HST

Event Horizon

I didn’t want to leave this morning. You looked at me with beguiling eyes and I felt your gravitational pull - as if I’d crossed what is known in cosmic-speak as the “event horizon”. Yet, I had to – duty calls and one must be responsible in an irresponsible world. Someday you’ll learn about responsibility and sacrifice – virtues bestowed upon the masses, yet few are they who hone those qualities and “sharpen their knives”.

It has certainly been a whirlwind as of late. Days blur one into the other. Sleep is a privilege. Dare I say, it has been some of the most interesting weeks of my life. Between you and me, someday we’ll look back and laugh. Perhaps we’ll chat over coffee at a small hamlet in South America. Maybe you’ll be there when I finally gaze at the Eiffel in Paris and reminisce about what could have been.

We’ve gotten to know one another fairly well I suspect, yet there’s so much more to talk about – so much more to share. In the end, it is all about sharing experiences – a sip of coffee, a jazz performance, a crisp morning in the fall here in New England, and so on.

Well, what can I say; I’ve fallen for you in ways I could not imagine. And while you lay there watching me leave to unknown destinations, I long to stay and conversate - I long to spend more time and watch you watching me. I love you Miranda.

Requiem of the Mind

I wrote a blog called Clarity back in August of last year, which centered around the ability to think/focus clearly; an ability most of us give little attention to. I stumbled upon an article on the Huffington Post where the writer of the article argued that positive thinking is not an actual reality, rather positive actions are - http://www.huffingtonpost.com/russell-bishop/workarounds-positive-thinking_b_844143.html

My interpretation of his article was that "doing" something versus "thinking or wishing" something is the actual solution to taking positive steps. I beg to differ. The potential for us to actually take some time and "re-wire" our brain is an actual fact which doesn't take lobotomy or self-help books to achieve. Simply put, we have the power to actually change patterns of behavior and habits, by focusing on a set of steps, which by the nature of repetition eventually manifest themselves. I can tell you from experience - this works. No need for Dr. Phil and his "vaunted" therapy.

No need for self-help books which dabble in the obscure and downright puzzling cult-like fogging of the brain. Simple. Think about where you are, think about where you want to go and take small tangible steps to accomplish your goal. Goals in this context, refer specifically to thinking positively - waving off the dark clouds of worrying and torment and actually saying to ourselves, "I came here to win, not to lose". It's us taking control back from soceital pressures and heavy loads of discontent. It's us slaying the shadowy figures that confuse or disorient us. Nineny-nine percent of the time, it is us who let ourselves down.

The best advice I ever got was from my frehsman Chemistry teacher who succintly put it best - "Don't ever sell yourself short. Ever." Now, back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Bruised and Battered but Full of Flavor

"Hello my friend, hello..." - God I love that Neil Diamond song... I feel like I've been away for ages, and I guess I have been. The past month plus has seen more than its share of activity in all things work related, house projects, school registration and reading. Hell I've even managed to sneak in an ice-cool Bryan Adams concert. Wicked... Yet the one thing that has managed to slow it all down is this thing called pneumonia in my right lung. Yup - I've been ill for close to two weeks now, shallow breathing, swelled lung, night chills, lethargy. It's been a kick ass start to the Spring. Even now I'm nowhere near 80 percent, never mind 100 - yet duty calls, and back to work I go tomorrow, and here I am writing again. Brilliant books made their way to my disposal during the past month - Waiting for Columbus, Water for Elephants and The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao - I give the following stars to each - WFC 5*'s, WFE 3*'s, TBWLOW 4*'s. There is a trip to India in the horizon thanks to work, there is a beach house rental in the Cape this summer and of course there is the calm before the storm otherwise known as Miranda Quinn Lopez (wife is 28 weeks!) So yes, lots going on, and much more on its way with my folks moving back home and the upcoming bevy of stuff to do this Summer! As for writing, I continue to construct my manuscript into something legible and exciting. It's funny how hobbies begin to feel a bit like work after a while. It's the opposite at work, at least that's what gets me through the day. True story - I went NUTS this past weekend during the "registry" creation at Babies R'Us...NUTS. I picked up the cutest Red Sox outfit/cap for the baby.... I've discovered my love for Vietnamese food, in particular their coffee and their chicken soup, which tastes like it was made in heaven. It restored my energy and for a while I felt invincible. Vietnam is certainly on my list of countries to visit and explore. So what now - well, I'm slowly improving health-wise, gotta get the baby room painted, work is back on the equation and I'm just looking forward to warmer temperatures. It's been a long and shitty winter and Mother Nature owes us a reprieve. Watched "The Kids Are All Right" - great stuff. Check it out. I shall be back here much sooner to share with y'all the cornucopia of events around my crazy life. Here's wishing you a few pneumonia-free weeks, and myself a speedier recovery.

Homage to Hattori Hanzo

Exchange between Elle Driver and Budd from the movie Kill Bill Vol 2.

Budd: So, which "R" you filled with?
Elle Driver: What?
Budd: They say the number one killer of old people is retirement. People got 'em a job to do; they tend to live a little longer so they can do it. I've always figured warriors and their enemies share the same relationship. So, now you ain't gonna hafta face your enemy on the battlefield no more, which "R" are you filled with: Relief or Regret?
Elle Driver: A little bit of both.
Budd: Bullshit. I'm sure you do feel a little bit of both. But I know damn well you feel one more than you feel the other. The question was which one?
Elle Driver: Regret.”

Having just finished renovating my living room I’d like to answer Budd’s question with the following. Relief. Now it isn’t that I consider my living room the “enemy”, simply the task to renovate it has been one filled with its own set of challenges. When I think of the movie The Exorcist, inevitably I think of green pea soup - Linda Blair vomiting all over the place like a green pea soup faucet going rogue. That is exactly what my living room “used” to look like – a palace to green pea soup, the color of its walls. Yes, Linda Blair lived with me every day for the past almost five years. That is…until I made the decision to start from scratch. Gone were the flower/leaf picture frames and the book shelves and CD holders; gone forever to some dark corner of the basement, somewhere in Amityville Horror land.

Paint roller in hand, it was time to face the music… As if holding a Hattori Hanzo (Kill Bill reference) sword, I slayed and sliced at the walls with the paint roller, causing irreversibly damaging internal bleeding. Heads were chopped off, limbs went flying, and suddenly I was The Bride (Uma Thurman’s character in Kill Bill). Paint dripped all around me – a massacre of biblical proportions. Goodbye green pea vomit – enter, tranquil/serene lilac. Yes, lilac damnit! The darkness is now gone, and in its place, tranquility, light, a sense of serenity I have not felt in that living room for almost 5 years.

As the last touches were made last night, paintings, mirrors, new picture frames going up, I felt it - Relief. Linda Blair was gone and in her place, a cool, loungy looking living room where I plan to plot my next series of writing escapades and frantic mischief.

Relief. I can put the Hattori Hanzo blade down.

Soundtrack to Our Lives

As I walked down the hall at my workplace, I softly hummed the tune of "(I've Had) the Time of My Life" from the Dirty Dancing soundtrack. If I recall, that particular soundtrack was quite the hit, inspiring many to dance until the sun came up. What made me hum that particular song during my walk, remains a mystery. Yet, it left me pondering, what is our own soundtrack made up of? Sesame Street songs? Fraggle Rock tunes? (I love Fraggle Rock).. Frankly, I can think of a few 80's hair band tunes that could qualify (Crazy Nights - Kiss), (Wanted Dead of Alive - Bon Jovi), and that's just two of the thousands upon thousands that could qualify. But, (yes there is a but..), we need criteria - how do we sift through the rubble and pick up the ones that truly shine; that truly meant something. So..(although I should be writing a report here at work)... here are the factors I came up with:

1 - Nostalgia
2- Substance
3- Fire
4- Wow!


Life is made up of a series of tiny chapters, each distinct yet sometimes repetitive. For example, I've gone camping in the summer with relatively the same folks for a good 10-12 years. There are songs that remind me of those times; songs we played often during our many camping trips.

The fist time I heard "Sweet Baby James" by James Taylor, I almost teared up. It is such a personal and heartfelt song. Each time I hear it, no matter where I am, I pause and reflect on the lyrics and how genuine these are.

Ever heard of Angel Eyes by the Jeff Healy Band..? I think it came out around '89 (someone correct me if I'm wrong..). Wow, what a song. Powerful melody, great lyrics. It's stuck with me to this day.

These are just a couple of examples of songs that truly remain unforgettable - I realize that the songs that would make up my soundtrack, share the characteristics I posted above. Some remind us of better times, some have special personal meaning, others wow us to this day, some share that passion, that never-ending fire.

A co-worker is celebrating her 25th wedding anniversary by creating a 3 hour snapshot which includes her and her husbands' pictures, as well as pictures of friends that have come and gone, family members and so on. A snapshot of her life for the past 25 years, and she managed to also include songs directly related to particular moments during that time.

Ever wondered what your very own soundtrack would look/sound like? Pause and reflect; it's been a wild ride.

Drifting Into Something New

UPDATE – I am working on a book, believe it or not. I have no idea how it will turn out, all I know is that I’ve taken those first steps towards building out a storyline, fleshing out characters and so forth. This is a lot tougher than it seems. Once characters are created, it’s almost impossible to delete them, as they kind of become a part of you - nonetheless, they are here to stay.

(The above is the quick and dirty update…as I originally planned on dedicating a few paragraphs to this).

Back to work.

The Second Happiest Day of My Life

There is the Wedding Day, the day the Sox won it all in 2004 and subsequently in 2007, the day I bought my house, the day Shirley baked that chicken, and so on... but those days will forever pale in comparison to today. It's no secret, that I've wanted a baby girl for a long time.... with two boys in tow, it was the logical next step.

As I sat in the ultrasound tech's office and watched the screen attentively, all kinds of emotions ran through me. My first thought was, let the baby be healthy. All vital signs were good, strong heartbeat, the works. Over and over I thought to myself, life's about to entirely change... I must admit, I had an idea, given how this pregnancy has differed in sooo many ways to the other two. Our eyes are darting through the screen, searching, for signs of sex, anything.... while images materialized and we speculated internally, the tech is the expert in the room. Then, out of thin air, she types on the screen... "L I T T L E G I R L"... My heart dropped...

I can barely describe the emotion itself. My eyes watered, my blood pressure certainly shot up, the room vibrated around me. Almost too much to bear. Overwhelming joy and excitement. Feeling blessed beyond belief... I am going to have a daughter. L I T T L E G I R L. It will forever be tattooed in my heart.

On to June and the inevitable arrival of said little girl... what should her name be...? Ah, I know... :)

Unnamed Author

I tend to liberate myself through words, unspoken words which linger on paper or on a computer screen. These words occupy space in my soul; they are deep rooted, like old trees in some far away forest. Like dry leaves in a New England autumn, they linger, unexpectedly. I am bound to them, I cannot escape these words; they leave dents in my heart and scars in my soul. They sear themselves into my very own fabric, recreating themselves like a virus; stalking me from within, my companions. When I least expect it, they smother me, these words, these feelings, that seem to come from thin air. My hands uncontrollably type away, like playing a piano blindfolded, in the dark. They just come, and use me like a puppet. They string me around and express my feelings for me, my deeply rooted sentiments. Tales of love, and heartache; of woe and joy - breathing for me, talking for me, swaying in the breeze of a Gloucester day in August, when the air is salty and melancholic, as it knows fall’s around the corner.

Words… senseless emotions, daring dreams, hopeless ambitions, black keys on a piano; black keys that hang on to every note, as if it’s the last note ever to be played. In the dark, in the morning light, these words come from an unknown source – an unnamed author.

Dare I say, one day I’ll understand what their purpose is. But until then, they will speak and speak some more, in lonely notebooks, in flickering laptop screens, in dreams and fantasies, daring the world to recognize them for what they are, truly undying sentiments -borne from an unnamed author playing a piano blindfolded, in the dark. Smiling, justified, in the arms of melancholy and nostalgia.

Reminder - To Get Inspired...

I need to watch something with substance. Something that goes deeper, a lot deeper than your average movie. I need it - something that moves me. I want the credits to roll and me to sit there, exhaling in reverence. Rare occurrences perhaps, yet, they are necessary. They breath new air into creativity - they inspire. With that said, I've read up on current / upcoming movies and have nailed down four flicks, that may provide that much needed spark. As follows:

• Never Let Me Go
• Blue Valentine
• Somewhere
• Biutiful

I may not watch all of them soon, but if I can at least, catch two of the four in say... the next two weeks, that would be golden. See you at the movies...I'll be the guy wearing a suit and holding an extra large bucket of popcorn...

The Year of Embrace

A new year. Like a breath of fresh air. It does wonders for the soul, the change. It excites us and induces fits of hyperactivity in everything plan or goal oriented. Travel to x, lose x pounds, register to x school, look for x job, pay x bills, buy x, do x…

All of the above are in essence, tangible things that can be accomplished to appease certain elements in life. Health, financial stability, change of scenery, career move and so on...
But what about for ourselves, where do we draw the line in the sand and start looking inward? Last year around this time, I made a list of things I wanted to change, not resolutions, but rather internal changes. Be more patient, think more positive, visualize good things in life; like brain surgery without the instruments. You practice it long enough, and you start manifesting these thoughts.

I dub this year the Year of Embrace. What do I mean by that? Well, life throws us curve balls from time to time; cannonballs are shot at us and we dodge and weave trying to make sense of all the turmoil, when in fact... it’s all mostly quite natural. Feelings about people, about life, about situations. Rather than push these away, I seek to embrace these feelings, to learn from them, to relish the experience.

So it begins, a new year full of possibilities; strange and unusual circumstances, which at first may seem wrong, or out of place. Take time to explore these…and you may be surprised by what you discover and learn, about yourself. Embrace!

Deep in Costa Rican Territory (Day 9)

March 18 – After a splendid first night of town strolling, margaritas, pizza, music and some much needed rest, I awake and decide to go on a stroll. I always enjoy being up early on vacation and scoping out my surroundings in solitude. Vendors are busy selling food and crafts. Many Americans live here permanently, and I observe as they jog by, or sit in nearby sodas and read the local newspaper. On my way back to the apartment, I am surrounded by a canopy of welcoming monkeys up above me. I even get a peek at the beach.

After some breakfast, which consisted of some strong local coffee at a local soda, we head to the beach. Dark sand, hot sand…volcanic sand, whoa! My scorched feet invite the Pacific’s cool touch. We camp down for a while and enjoy the beach among the local American populace. Playa del Coco is a lively area filled with many Americans who have made this, their permanent residence. I can’t blame them. There are numerous beaches nearby, the town bustles with energy and noise. We decide to do like them, and move from del Coco to Playa Hermosa. Hermosa means “beautiful”.

Prior to getting to the beach we stop by a local soda for some lunch and a refill of both beer and water. The ride to the area is quite scenic as we rise higher on the road, anxiously anticipating our arrival to Hermosa. Wow. Magnificent and indeed Hermosa. Palm trees line the beach, which by now in the early afternoon seems rather calm, with just a few folks here or there. In the middle of the sand, I spot a man and a cart... What could he be selling..? I walk over and discover a nice treat – a Granizado. A sweet concoction made with condensed milk, ice and fruit flavors... so good… so refreshin during our stay here we discover a strange tree, with a strange phallic shaped protrusion. The entire afternoon is spent in Playa Hermosa, basking in the palm trees’ shade and the Pacific’s refreshing ocean. Not a bad way to spend a day.

Prior to the night’s festivities, we head into town to pick up my laundry. See, the night before I found a woman who we gave our laundry to. Those clothes came back brand new and smelling amazing. I almost made out with my socks….

We venture out into the night and everyone is on the same vibe, party time. Pick up some souvenirs here or there; enjoy drinks at the Lizards Lounge and the most amazing dinner ever while during our stay in Costa Rica, in a dirt floor soda. The meal consists of your typical “casado”, which in essence, is rice and beans and meat and veggies and an assortment of other delicacies. Fresh fish is consumed as well as some fresh fruit shakes. All in all an absolutely delicious meal in a dirt floor soda where dogs linger and soccer is watched in a 13 inch TV. Unforgettable.

As the night resumes, we stumble upon a pizza place which the girls show interest in, prior to heading back to the apartment. It’s been a long day full of wonders and great experiences. The day typifies what it is to be in Costa Rica; carefree, and open to experiences of both the eyes and taste buds. Back to the pizza place though…as the girls wait inside, I go in and skip past them letting music guide me. No freaking way…a tiki party in the back of the pizza place??? There’s a band playing island tunes and tables and torches…what the hell is going on?! This is awesome. I linger and order a beer, while the girls continue to wait on their midnight snack. Everyone is enjoying the music, infused with ocean breeze and smells of fresh fruit. I say good bye and head back to our headquarters, pizza in hand for another great night at the apartment with the best people I know.

32 Posts Later...I'll Toast to That

It's baffling. The show began back in July, when I finally made the decision to take my writing public. Snippets here and there, sleep-deprived sessions centered around my world and the things that influence me the most. It has been an incredible 2010, kicked off by an unforgettable Vega$ trip with old and new friends - a trip where I almost lost an eye, and spent a Saturday night in ER, due to it. I wore an anaconda around my neck on my last night there.. blissful trip. In comes the summer and here in New England, we are blessed with some of the greatest summer weather ever; highlighted by numerous parties, trips to the beach, and many long nights spent amongst friends, in particular, some of the best people I know and love. The kids enjoyed it immensely as well, trips to amusement parks and the beach..but I digress. You see, if you would have asked me back in January if I would ever even ponder writing on the Web, I would have probably dumped a soda on your head.. it was unthinkable, yet I'm not sure why it was... what was the fear..?

As I look back at 32 sessions beginning in July, I feel not proud, but rather satisfied - satisfied that I made the jump and never looked back. That regardless of what the topic was, if it piqued my thought process, I wrote about it. I talked about Grape Crushing in the New World, I shared my experiences in the stunning land of Costa Rica, I wrote about love in many forms and about music and dreams and books and Paris and change..! Yes, change...! I've learned that I am to be a father again come June of next year and I recently started a new job.

Still.. I remain satisfied, perhaps even accomplished to an extent. I reflect and smile and sometimes emotion overwhelms me when I read back my own writing, my very own thoughts and tribulations. And I think to myself - there is nothing in the world that fills my soul more than writing; allowing thought and opinion to manifest itself - full of unbridled and effervescent emotion. I thank those that have read and those that have pushed me to 'ramble on'. The pleasure is indeed all mine. Happy Holidays!! See you in January.

Love, Irving

Astray

It rejected me as if I did not belong there. My deserving rest wrestled away from me, pried from my aching feet, lifted from my heavy eyelids. The walking was lazy. Strolling through my kitchen in the wee hours of the night. Searching for familiarity not commonly found in drawers or fridges. It all felt dreamlike. This altered state of being did not bode well I thought. I was a wanderer, a stranger in my own reality. Disconnected, I froze. It was the kind of cathartic experience perhaps not found in the day to day doldrums of life. I suppose it helped to reset the brain as it resonated with confusion and dissonance.


Was there anyone else out there? No sound. No air. The lights remained off and I struggled to find the kitchen counter. I felt the need to lean on something; on someone. Realizing perhaps in this distant state, that I was very much alive and well. That although the time indicated otherwise and the house was pitch black, the sun would rise in a couple of hours. Things became common once more. Complexities and strangeness seemed like forgotten memories. The inevitable grasp of all things familiar breathed life into me and I walked up the stairs, into my room.


It was five in the morning. Dead in bed. Far off somewhere else. Searching once more, for that kitchen counter.