We lived in a little art loft over a quaint book store up town Whittier. Ames is the name of the bookstore. A funny fellow with a beard owned the place. To get away from the overwhelming nature of the business I was involved with: I found this cave in the city. A new world opened up to me at Ames. Books came alive and one of the most influential books I found there is the classic story; Frankenstein Or, The Modern Prometheus. Mary W. Shelley’s novel inspires me on so many levels and I cannot thank her enough.
This is a quote for the day. This quote speaks of life and freedom resonates there. I love the reflective and subjective nature of her book. I recommend this gem to everyone: read it and life will not be the same…if you have read it already, “so it goes!”
If our impulses were confined to hunger, thirst, and desire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that word may convey to us.
We are as clouds that veil the midnight moon;
How restlessly they speed, and gleam, and quiver,
Streaking the darkness radiantly!–yet soon
Night closes round, and they are lost forever:
Or like forgotten lyres, whose dissonant strings
Give various response to each varying blast,
To whose frail frame no second motion brings
One mood or modulation like the last.
We rest.–A dream has power to poison sleep;
We rise.–One wandering thought pollutes the day;
We feel, conceive or reason, laugh or weep;
Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away:
It is the same!–For, be it joy or sorrow,
The path of its departure still is free:
Man’s yesterday may ne’er be like his morrow;
Nought may endure but Mutability.
Thrift stores and garage sales are where it happens. I play a game sometimes. I imagine things I would like to have and then let my imagination go. I shop with the glow of possibilities and magic. It is amazing to find the things I thought of. The days of, thrift stores, any Salvation Army or garage sale, have pretty much ended. Yet, I remember back to a certain book store. It was a place that supplied us with some interesting used books. We found some great books there. This bookstore was a garage sale because it was a garage sale of used books; Old and dusty; histories that are enchanting.
My husband collects too many Chess books. One day we went out to breakfast and then turned into the local used book store for our terrible addiction to books. On this particular day a big book sale was happening; an array of books were for sale outside and it was about to rain. The two of us separated looking for a gem or heart of gold. We both were coming up empty. I wanted to find something special for my husband on his birthday on that same day. He has studied and played chess for years and I do not know much about the game.
I have been known to try to fool him by going into his chess closet; taking out an old one and warp it up for a Christmas or on his birthday as a NEW gift. He remembers them all. I sometimes put little notes in his chess books thinking he will never find them… but he always does (even years later).
Anyway, on this day from our past I found a small selection of game books and noticed one with the word “CHESS” on it. It was a book about Siegbert Tarrasch andI thought,
“How do I say this name?”
I tried hiding the book behind my back but John wrestled it out of my grasp: A big smile came over his face because he knew about Tarrasch.
“Happy birthday John.”
I took the book back from him and looked through it. It smelled old and while reading through the preface… I stopped and read the short biography;
Siegbert Tarrasch was born on March 5, 1862. He was one of the strongest chess players of the late 19th century and early 20th century. Tarrasch was Jewish, and a patriotic German who lost a son in World War I, but lived to suffer under the early stages of Nazism.
“Wow that is the same month and day as John’s birthday.”
March 5th, John and Siegbert’s birthdays are one hundred and four years apart.
This is the best synchronicity that I ever shared with another, but I have played this game before and continue to do so…because life is listening to synchronicities.
“Didn’t you hear the morning-glory flower is very independent!!?”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, kind of wild too I hear…and not dependable in the garden.”
“I see them, often, climbing fences and in alleyways, the flower is very beautiful and bright too.”
“Maybe so,” said the old black bird as he flew away.
Over hearing this conversation between two blackbirds I imaged that they were both correct in their observations of the morning-glory flower; which is a wild vine-with flowers that grow around residential homes and alleyways, very beautiful to look at and always a pleasure to find. I have had a packet of morning-glory seeds for a few years and when I clean-up around the house I always seem to find the packet. I put it in one place or another until I find it again.
This year I decided to take a chance and plant the morning-glory seeds in a long wood flower box that my parents gave us years ago. Originally, the flower box was put in on the walkway of our apartment for seven years. Now it has been with us thirteen years here at our home. One side of the box now has a menthol succulent growing in it. I have had that plant for many generations: about twenty-five. I originally was given the plant from my first mother-in-law Mary Kowalewski. My mother and I took many trimmings from the original plant from Mary. It is the kind of plant that will grow with or without water. It took well to the box so it lives there happily alone now. Next to it there has been a dry spot where nothing seems to grow beside a few weeds that dry off quickly. It was about three months ago I planted the dark little triangle seeds there; the morning-glory seeds from the packet.
Something started to grow. At first I was not sure what was growing. Then my heart jumped because it was vining outwards. I knew at that time it was the independent morning-glory. How strange, the place that no other plant wanted …it wanted! I think this shows the unique nature of this vine flower. I put a long stick from a nearby branch in the earth of the box to help the plant vine up it. The one vine leg of this plant did not show any interest. So I stopped trying. A few days later the other leg of the vine was nicely wound around it. I laughed out loud. I fell deeply in love with this morning-glory vine.
Today I awoke early and went outside to give the vine some water. The days are hot now. I noticed yesterday that the leaves have started too wilt. To my surprise I found two wonderful flowers. Again my heart about jumped from my chest from joy. So it goes.
I am not going to bet on it, but I am sneaky and hopeful, that these two legs vining outwards will eventually take over our garden net fence,
“But don’t tell anybody…I don’t want my independent mooring-glory and vine to find out!!”
A note: This post is a personal story and is what some may call black humor… and ironical …
” For knowing that someone in this life,
Loves with a passion called hate
And what you give is what you get.”
Start ~ The Jam
“You live in a town all your life, and you get to know every bitch on the street corner and half of them you have already messed around with. You’ve got the layout of the whole land. You have a picture of where you are…. Since I was raised in L.A., I’ve always had the geographical and spiritual feeling of being here. I’ve had time to learn this city. I can’t see any other place than L.A.” Charles Brocowski
Dear Mom,
I don’t understand why people idolize Charles Brocowski. You were married to a man like him and have a son like him: Mean drunks. I wish from the bottom of my heart that you would have left him when you were alive. I wish that you would have not been there for you oldest son. Both dad and your oldest son are two of the most emotionally abusive individuals I have ever had to endure in my life. I hate them. I am sad you are gone but I am overjoyed that you were brave enough to have left them first. After seeing your deathly pain, my heart was so relieved when you left this earthly plane. I wish you would have left before you died, when I was a girl of ten or twelve. Then we could have depended more on each other…spent more time together. You always set conditions for our time together.
“Let’s see what your father thinks”
“Mom, you can do that without him.” I would say.
You were worried that if you did something without him that he would run off with a woman … but it was booze that he ran off with, Mon. That was one thing that was consistent in my life with him.
I forgive you mom for taking the path of least resistance. You put up with the abusive behavior but so did I and I hated it. I hate men who cannot handle their liquor. They are weak and stupid like Charles Brocowski . Some men drink and have a good time. Some men are not abusive like dad and my oldest brother.
I wish you would have left them before. We could have gone to Washington State to live with your relatives. That would have been so much better than Los Angeles.
Mom, I hope, now that dad is dead too, that you can share a synchronicity with me,
“MOM is he accountable for his abusive ways?”
“I hope so…. I hope the cenobites have him!!”
Love Holly
Charles Bukowski… oops I misspelled his fucking stupid name…
My blog has recently been added to Creative Writing Blogs, which is part of one of the largest networks of blog directories on the Web. Please visit my blog's personal page to vote for my blog and comment to other blog users.
I Post Everyday on Word Press
INTEGRITY
Hey, I am talk'in ta ya!!
Please if you take anything from this site please tag Hudleyflipside.org as the source of this material. NOTICE this is all copyrighted material and is an ongoing project. I respect your rights so please respect mine. As artists and media we can coexist with respect!! Thank You, Hudley Flipside c/o Holly D. Cornell words, photographs and illustrations!!
