Category Archives: The Past

A Pearl Among Stores

Posted on by
4

How did I not know Pearl Paint closed?!?! Not just closed, but closed for a little over a year now. It felt as though I was just there recently, but time is indeed fluid to the heart as it was December 2013 I was there last according to my bank statement.

I had wanted to go by Pearl on a day off just because. The place always inspired me and as one can see from the dearth of posting as of late, I could use it. Still, something said go online and check the store’s opening hours before I drag my tail down there and that’s how I learned yet another NYC societal if not historical landmark that has fallen victim to the giant called capitalism.

After the shock of the discovery, I semi-joked I have not been this mournful since I read the Red Wedding scene in George R.R. Martin’s “A Storm of Swords“.  If you do not know what the Red Wedding is by now, don’t bother asking. Just understand that it’s something bad.  Sucker punch, gasp out loud, gut wrenching bad.

Because it’s a new wound for me, i want to pass by the site and poor libations on its threshold. That’s how the unexpected loss of Pearl Paint has struck me.

Pearl Paint was an eight decades old institution. Whether the amateur looking for stamped tin foil for an occasional scrapbook or the professional looking for gold foil leaf for a mural in a skyscraper, Pearl had it. I did not go there often, as Pearl was off my beaten path, but once I was there, I was there for a couple of hours minimum. Since the early 80’s, when I first discovered the place, it was six floors of dusty, seemingly nonsensical, glorious mayhem.  But if I needed it artistically, Pearl Paint had it. And it was not just an art supply store for many of the staff and fellow shoppers were artists in their own right. I come in with what I think is a simple question or request and leave some time later having absorbed knowledge, techniques, tools and sometimes gossip.

And now it’s all gone.

I mean doors locked, gates closed, assets sold off .

*Gone*.

Yes, there are other art supply stores, this is New York City, but none like Pearl Paint. I Alas no, like so many other places and spaced becoming a part of my past, it’s now just memory.

<>==========<>==========<>

Come see how others are slicing up their days.

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers

Tuesday Slice of Life Story Challenge – Two Writing Teachers

 

When Never Happened

Posted on by
Reply

Sunlight streaming through my window
May as well be a cloudy day
Heartache and desire chill my spine
When thoughts of never come into play

Waking next to you that morning
The epitome of everything I once dreamed
The dread of reality crashing down immediately
Making me want to cry and scream

Moving my head forward was easy,
why does my heart keep stepping back?

Ignorance is bliss it is true
What could never happen would not be so
But the morning after never – happened
And I cannot undo what I now know

The feel of you beneath me, yielding
The dance of your fingers along my spine
The wanting with every fiber of my being
All the while knowing you will never be mine

Moving my head forward was easy,
why does my heart keep stepping back?
Stepping back to never

And if I could, I’d give this all away
But a song I never thought to sing
Was given voice for some reason
Now forever a reminder of this thing

It’s a bitch knowing the gods played us
It’s too cruel of both joy and regret
And the thing is most days I’m just fine
But today I’m an unstrung marionette

Moving my head forward was easy,
why does my heart keep stepping back?
Stepping back to never,
to when never happened.

<>==========<>==========<>

Drifting on a memory

Theme Thursdays | Never

in my ears and in my eyes

Posted on by
8

A little over a week ago I learned an online friend Elaine Banno, passed away. A post from her sister on Lainey’s Facebook page is how the news was broken to us. Actually, that is not quite accurate. Those who got the news first could not believe it, thus a couple of hours of has anyone heard from Lainey? type posts happened on her page before the inevitable truth was accepted.  Through our various groups we had a general sense of where we stood physically, emotionally etc, still she and I had not “conversed” one-on-one in a long while. I had come to her page that day to message her, to say “hi” ask about the blog she had not posted in a long while. That is how I learned the news of her passing.  I read through over forty-eight hours of posts (from her last post to the time I came in) on her wall in disbelief.

Lainey was not the first death I’ve gone through on social media. However, she is/was the first of someone I cared for, yet had never met in person.  This odd global village that is the internet indeed makes strange bedfellows and friends. Having “met” in an online forum and being mutual members of various online groups since, our quick wit, combined with rapier tongues made us fast buddies. Hers is a voice and a beauty uniquely her own. That’s not to say we did not have our disagreements – oh we did and the private messaging that went on behind the scenes between us were doozies at times – still whether we came to agree to disagree or have a mutual understanding after considering one or the other’s viewpoint, unlike most tenuous online relationships we always came away still speaking.

Another mutual friend created a Remembering memorial type page for those of us who want to honor, remember and grieve for her away from the family nonsense that tends to flare up during such times. I’ve barely been able to browse through it, only popping in once of twice to peruse the posts. I have perused posts on her blog and in other places to read her words. I also done so with this blog where I remembered she responded the posts, just to read her words and “hear” her voice again. I feel her loss, I really do. Yet not enough to try to make arrangements to attend her funeral. I thought about it. I considered who I could ask to get to and from the various points it would take to do so. It would not have been easy for me to arrange, but not impossible. Yet I chose not to and feel just a small sense of guilt because of it.

In this techy age we have never Skyed or Facetimed. To my semi-defense, I don’t Skype or Facetime with anyone else either, but I could – perhaps should, yet I haven’t so far.  All of the interactions between Lainey and I have solely been online, either through direct emails or the various groups we both where we were both members. We have exchanged gifts and cards. We have laughed and cried. We have checked each other. We have encouraged each other. We have shared secrets and gossip.  Aren’t these the basic things that most friends do? Yet we have never hugged. We have never shook hands. We have never broke bread together. Then again, we have never truly tied to always thinking on that someday. Perhaps it is those missing links in our connection that is the invisible barometer of where I was not comfortable/willing to make the extra effort to give her my personal good-bye, I do not know. As I tried to explain to a good friend who, like I, is also taken aback by Elaine’s passing in her own way,  it’s an odd sense of limbo.

The Beatles Penny Lane popped up on my iPod this morning.  It is listed among the classics of  “misheard lyrics” of its time and now.  Even though I know the correct lyrics, I still thought “And Elaine is in my ears and in my eyes…” which for the past few days very much holds true because I do miss you Lainey. It’s been over a week and I’m still having a hard time accepting you won’t be regaling us with tales of your cats, later on today.  That we won’t have your always perfectly timed scathing snark or cracking wise or soothing encouragements. It still won’t compute.

<>==========<>==========<>

Let’s see how others or crossing the limbo of this halfway point of the challenge: 

8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

What You Won’t Do – Do For Art…

Posted on by
6

I was attempting to take a picture of a dew-sparkled spider web in the sunlight. Please note, I, being more of a kill it with fire type person when it comes to spiders, am hardly an arachnid’s BFF.  Still I admire the delicate, intricate complexity of a well spun spider web – go figure.  I took several pictures from different angles  around it, but they were all from above. The problem, soon I realized, is that the picture I knew it could be, the picture I wanted would never be captured standing from above. I tried crouching and bending down, but it wasn’t giving me what I wanted – the clean lines of the web itself. It was becoming clear, I was going to have to get below it. Below it, as in get on the ground. The ground was still damp from the morning shower.

I was so not doing that.

Not to mention, I am in a public park. Though no one was around at the moment, I had no way of knowing how long I was going to be down there trying to get the right shot. Friends were one thing, but did I really want strangers seeing me potentially sprawled out in damp grass out trying to take pictures of – what?  Unless they came close they would not see the web. It was pure luck the sunlight played off the diamond dew drops capturing my attention that kept me from walking right through it.  From a distance, it would look more like I was taking pictures of the space between the bushes. That would surely raise an eyebrow.  As it was, it seemed even the spider was looking at me kind of dubiously as I changed angles from a still standing position.

It became one of those odd times where the artist screamed against the practical. As I heard voices approaching it was also one of those odd times where the artist lost. Personal vanity won this round as I walked away.

I mean, what’s a I take pictures even if the only person who likes them is me going to do?  I’m no Ansel Addams (no relation to Gomez by the way), it’s not as though with my little camera I was going to have an image of such high quality as to be posted on gallery walls, or at a museum or even the zoo. The only person who would know or even care that I didn’t get the picture is me. And I could live with that.

Right?

Right!

Yeah, not right.

As I continued walking around the park taking pictures, enjoying the company of my friend I was visiting, spidey and that darn web kept popping into my mind. I really wanted that picture.  We had to pass through the same area to exit the park, thus I made up my mind that I was taking the picture.  The sun had shifted and I again almost walked right through not seeing it as I had forgotten the one very important thing – dew drops dry in sunlight.  I had let vanity win and the opportunity to photograph the dew sparkled web had passed. The artist in me enjoyed a moment of schadenfreude (nyah-nyah, nyah-nyah, nyaaaah nyah!), even as I lamented the loss (boo-hoo).

So what do I do now? Lemonade time. With the shifting sun I could now get, what I could not get a couple of hours previously, good clean lines.  Knowing I was likely going to rise with slightly muddy knees, passers-by maybe watching – maybe not – I didn’t care, and practical be damned! I  didn’t think twice about it this time as I immediately dropped to take the shot.

Yes!

spider

<>==========<>==========<>

I was looking through my digital photos in search of one in particular to show someone and came across spidey here. While it is the best of the dozen or so shots I took, it is not the greatest – as I knew it would be, but I like it and as one of my favorite bands would say, Nothing Else Matters.

Let’s see how others are facing things on this Friday the 13th – the 13th day of the challenge:

8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

Unrequited

Posted on by
8


Can’t call a soul to my defense
The blame is mine, this wound immense
Don’t fall! Don’t fall! – sworn to uphold
The secrets of new spring leaves hold
The heart, the soul, can’t be controlled
You paint the sky with stars so bold
My vow too gone to be consoled
The secrets learned too late are cold
This love for you never is told
For to another yours is doled
Love found, yet lost, is the penance
To ache in this profound silence

<>==========<>==========<>

Because I have not done a poetic form in a while – today’s form: Duo-Rhyme (12 line)

The Duo-rhyme, is a 10 or 12-line poem, with the first two and last two lines having the same rhyme scheme, and the center of the poem (lines #3 through #8 or #10) having their own separate mono-rhyme scheme.

Meter: 8 beats per line, written in iambic tetrameter (4 linear feet of iambic)

Rhyme Scheme: 10-line: a,a,b,b,b,b,b,b,a,a  or 12-line: a,a,b,b,b,b,b,b,b,b,a,a

 dVerse ~ Poets Pub | Open Link Night – 144

Elevate Your Shenenigans

Posted on by
4

A few months ago in the early fall, I get on the elevator at my office one morning and press the button for my floor. A colleague who works on a different floor presses the button for his floor and we nod at each other in greeting. Others enter the elevator and press the buttons for their respective floors. I noticed a pattern emerging on the panel as buttons were pushed and smiled to myself at the coincidence. At this point it needed only one more button pushed to complete the array. The doors were slowly closing and I had mentally brushed off the disappointment of the pattern being left undone, when a hand thrusts in to bounce the doors open. One more person gets in the elevator.  Silly bird that I am, my thoughts quickly race.

Is it going to happen? Is it going to happen?!

My eyes widen in anticipation as his finger reaches towards the panel.

Yes, he’s really going to do it!

I start to smile as the finger draws nearer to the goal only to suddenly shift and press a different button than hoped for.

Noooooooooooooo!

“Aw man! You messed it all up!” Yes, I said that out loud.

“What?” The gentleman quickly withdrew his finger nervously laughing, and totally confused.

“Look! Look at what you’ve done! You’ve ruined it! You’ve ruined it all! Even you can see the tragedy of this now! Even you! Even!” I mock cry dramatically, putting heavy emphasis on the word even while gesturing to the button panel where numbers 2, 4, 6, 8 and 10 were lit in an orderly line waiting for 12 to join them.  Had he pressed the button for the twelfth floor it would have worked out that all the of even floors and only the even floors would have been lit by pure chance, but noooooooooo! What could have been a moment of pure serendipitous perfection is now trashed by the glaring light of 11.  There are tiny titters of laughter as the other riders start to get it.  Two of them know me well and quickly become a Greek chorus bemoaning the poor man’s fate.

“Oh no, not the odd floor!”
“Oh, you done done it now man.”
“It was nice knowing you.”

“Oh, no! Oh my! Egads! Such an undignified transgression! I shall remove myself from here immediately!” He played right into the scene.

“Oh why bother, the damage is done, you unthinking cad!” I wailed, while quickly fanning my eyes with my fingers to deter the tears that would never fall. “You sir are a scoundrel! A scoundrel I say!”

All of this to the bemusement of the captive audience of the other riders forced to endure this elevated melodrama. The lucky worker on the second floor already escaping before the bloodshed.

“Oh dear lady, however can one so lowly as I make this right!”

The next floor is mine and as the doors begin to open there was only one thing that could be said in the face of such an onslaught.

“How you ask?! By having a nice day, sir! That is what I wholly wish for the likes of you! A nice day!” I say this with all the teeming passion of a Fake-sperian actor casting a pox upon one’s house. Turning with a dramatic huff, I fling my non-existent fur stole over my shoulder as I exit all Norma Desmond style to full-out laughter as the doors close behind me.

<><>

Now let’s fast-forward to today as I get on the elevator this morning  and a gentlemen follows immediately after. I press the button for my floor and step aside so he can press the button for his. He reaches out an extended finger almost about to push the button, but withdraws it quickly.

“Is it okay if I push it this time?” He inquires of me.

I presume my expression spoke volumes along the fortunately un-uttered lines of why the fuck are you asking me?  for he quickly added “The last time we rode an elevator together you called me unthinking cad so I’m just checking first.” His smile makes me actually look at him this time and I take a moment to scan through the various elevator shenanigans of which I’ve always only been a mere bystander to – as you can tell by the encounter above – until recognition dawns and I press the button for the eleventh floor for him.

“Thanks! You remember!” He laughs.

“Why yes I do, you scoundrel!” and then proceed to press every button between his floor and mine, finishing just as the doors to my floor open.

“No, you did not just do that!” If he was even mildly irked, it is totally swallowed by his hoot of laughter at my antics as I exit.

“Have a nice day!” I grin and wave my fingers as the doors close on his continued laughter.

Yes, I have many issues, and clearly no damn sense, and still no idea who he is.

<>==========<>==========<>

Come see how others are elevating their slices this month:

8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

Time Keeps On Slipping…

Posted on by
4

March has been an odd month for me these past few years —

Except for the staunchest of my winter loving friends, most of us in the Northern Hemisphere have all reached our saturation point of cold and snow by now and want it all gone already. The hope of the longed for First Day of Spring finally arriving lightens my mood.  Even though there is still several inches of snow on the ground, with more expected tonight, the thought of soon being able to put my down coat away for the season warms me immensely.

Of course, there is celebrating the birth of my first-born. Like all mamas of adult children I can still see the wide-eyed sparkle of those newborn eyes brought home oh so many years ago in the very eyes that roll, yet again, in some annoyance that I’ve -probably  happily – inflicted upon them.  Pretty much as I am sure I will do so again tonight when we meet up for birthday dinner. I’m Mom – it’s in the unwritten job description.

What has caught me off guard this year is what usually has been at the forefront of my mind on March 1st, these past few years.  I got to today, March 3rd, before the now 9th anniversary of my late-husband’s passing registered. I mean, it is not as if I did not know it was coming, after all his birthday – only a couple of weeks ago – is an automatic reminder.  Not to mention, I’ve had nearly a decade of it now. Yet the day itself came and went without so much as a blip to my conscience. I only noticed this morning, because someone else brought him up in conversation, that I had not noticed it even in passing thought. It truly was just another day.

I am not sure how I feel about that.

One hand, it is as clear-cut of a sign as can be that I no longer grieve for him. But, in reality, I stopped grieving years ago, because I am not the kind to wallow in such an emotion for so long before I make my own self sick of it. Which is a good thing, I know it is.  Still, there is this tiny little part of me that for the first ever wonders does it mean that I am slowly forgetting him? And while that bothers me just a little, very much like the month of March, my emotions on this are a fluid thing.

It has been nine years – isn’t it the way it should be? I think so, I think…

After all, how long do I continue to mark time in this way? Yet only a few days ago I was conversing with a friend about a certain point in recent time and what was my immediate point of reference? Whether or not Bill was around at that point and to calculate from there.  Clearly, I have not forgotten him and won’t be anytime soon.  Yet March 1st came and went without thought of him. Didn’t think that would happen either.

<>==========<>==========<>

8th-annualc2a0slice-of-life-story-challenge-invite

 

Battle Lines

Posted on by
Reply

I am sure most of the nation has heard/read about Officers Wenjian Liu and Rafael Ramos of NYPD who were murdered over the weekend. And while I sincerely wish that I can say that I am surprised that this has happened, I am not. As word of the officers’ deaths hit the news Facebook and Twitter went berserk as the immediate bastions of gut reaction opinions flew. What I am surprised at is how quickly battle lines have emerged because of this.

While few argue that the killing of the NYPD officers was wrong, posts/comments/private messages along the lines of “I guess you’re happy now” that popped up over the weekend gives a definite sense that some who are against the protests in Ferguson and NYC seemed to think those who protest and/or support the protestors are somehow engaged in Schadenfreude over this weekend’s killings. Are you fucking kidding me? I was so aghast that anyone would ever think such a thing  of any protestor, let alone me personally. I unfriended them without even bothering to engage in debate.  From what I’ve since gathered from the handful of mutual acquaintances among us it’s just as well, but as the kids say “I can’t…”

This is not an either or situation. The support of #BlackLivesMatter does not negate support of #NYPDLivesMatter.

  1. The deaths of Michael Brown, Eric Garner et al, at the hands of their respective local police is a tragedy.
  2. The assignations of Officers Liu and Ramos at the hands of Ismaaiyl Brinsley is also a tragedy.

In a previous posted I asked “Or Does It Explode?” The fuse, already lit in the aftermath of the Ferguson and New York City grand jury decisions, has the general vibe between police and minorities at a high level of tense. Both sides were walking on proverbial eggshells. Things have yet returned to anything near normal levels of tense – whatever the hell that is; the killings of Officers Liu and Ramos this past weekend have not helped at all.

Just as at our cores we know that it is #NotAllPolice are out to get us, we hope they equally know #NotAllBlacks are out to assassinate them.  The LAST thing we need is for a black man to be accidentally taken out while jogging on the street or while walking a dog because he got too close to a police car because the officers inside perhaps felt threatened.

I am praying and praying hard that the actions of Ismaaiyl Brinsley have furthered that ignition along the fuse.

#AllLivesMatter

The Daily Post: Ready, Set, Done!

Posted on by
Reply

<trigger warnings – bodily fluids>

I am going mad.

A feeling not entirely out of the realm of possibility given the circumstances, truth be told. Surely if any place could inspire the fragmenting of one’s mind, this dark abyss would be so.  The ongoing series of low moans seeminly reverberate about the cramped space further emphasizing the horrendous state.

When was the last time we had fresh air? Saw sunshine?

Normally a gentle roll, the summer storm turned the normally gentle rocking of the ship into anything but a comforting lull. Several found their insides unceremoniously gushing out as a result of the lurching.  I tried not to think about it, but it was more near silent susurrus, a subliminal messaging of sorts to which I would not pay heed because this sin’t happening to me… This isn’t happening to me… This isn’t happening to me…This isn’t…

The man directly behind me starts speak when I feel hi body convulse and warm liquid strike my head and trails down my neck and back. I realize the first words were the beginnings of an apology he now completed, his stomach empty, butI ould not offer him the comforting words of understanding asthe stench and sheer repulsionstarts to overwhelm. Feeling itI reflectively try to back away from the warm body in front of me.  But like the man behind is bound to me and the stranger in front of me is chained to the man before him, I am just as shackled and cannot move when the ship lurches.

“I am sorry my brother”

And release…

Cross section of a slave ship 1828-1829.

Click for full size

<>==========<>==========<>

Ready, Set, Done! is a ten-minute free-write where you tap away on whatever comes to mind, no filters attached. You are free to edit later, or do as I have and just publish as-is. I have NO idea where this came from. I typed the first sentence, kept going and this was the result. The image was found after the fact.

Weekly Prompt – Share Your World – Week 45

Posted on by
1

Over at Cee’s Photography I’ve discovered a weekly challenge to “Share Your World” via random questions. While photos are not required, I agree they do enhance things. Here are my responses:

What is your favorite color? 

shades-of-black

Black. I know part of my love for the color is because of my aversion to all things pastel as a child. As a teen and adult, the appeal for me is the mystery attached to it. The color of darkness; the touch of badness; the hint of the illicit and the simple perversion of liking something girls are not supposed to like. I was Goth and Metal and Leather, a good decade before those terms existed in my lexicon. Back when it meant something rebel, mysterious, dark not to be the near casually tossed out adjectives as used today.

In what do you find the simplest of joys?

 

Bacon Mac and Cheese

Macaroni and cheese – with bacon!

 music-is-what-feelings-sound-likeMusic! Music! Music!

Food and music. A bowl of mac & cheese in general, but especially with bacon can bring out of just about any foul mood and put a smile on my face. It makes a good mood feel even better. In either case at least until the bowl is finished. * Big Grin *  Such simple ingredients at its base – yet so complex in how it just works. There is a reason it is high up in the list of Comfort Food for so many.

And as much as I am a logophile and bibliophile and appreciate the ability of words to reach and touch me to the core, music gets me there deeper and infinitely faster. I can hear the opening of certain songs and/or music pieces and feel my mood shifts on the first note of recognition. At least in my head I have to do the call backs of Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline” (bom-bom-bom <– see?! I just had to, had to include it!), and unless I am carrying a very heavy load, I still cannot resist the urge to drop everything in order to “air drum”, the drum solo in Phil Collins “In The Air Tonight”. I have clutched my heart and been brought to tears over a piece of music as book has ever done so – yet. I am not always eating, but there is always music -or easy access to it- around me.

Would you prefer a reading nook or an art, craft, photography studio?

studio_1

Oh, the art studio hands down.  I can make a reading nook out of just about any where I choose to sit and read. I do not work on a lot of the art things I would like to simply because I do not have the space to pursue such within the limited confines off my apartment. I am pretty sure my landlord would very much object to a kiln for glass blowing or a pottery wheel in my living room, not to mention the mess acrylic and oil paints can make. I already know should I hit the big lottery; whatever home I build will have a studio nearby where I can work on any of my various artistic pursuits at will as well as a library.

What is at least one of your favorite quotes?

 orig-copy

“Everyone is born an original; sadly most die as copies.”

freedom-happiness

“Doing what you like is freedom; liking what you do is happiness.”


Bonus question:
What are you grateful for from last week, and what are you looking forward to in the week coming up?

grateful
Last week was seeing the first New York Festival of Light and getting to spend some time with my eldest son in the process. The Festival was in its inaugural run and it was sweet being at the very first of something new. Years down the road from now, there’s going to be a certain cachet in being able to brag, I was at the first one. I took pictures, unfortunately not a single one with me and my son in them as proof we were there – d’oh! I am already looking forward to next year’s Festival – I know it will be even bigger and better! As for this week that is already more than halfway over, I am looking forward to the “Color Play” opening reception at La Maison d’Art in Harlem. Like the Festival I rarely get to many such events on their opening day, not to mention hardly attend any events in Harlem any more – to which hang my head in shame. That is a slight I plan to rectify starting with this exhibit.

Come Share Your World at Cee’s Photography.