bridges, i've always loved bridges
looking at the arches, cables
the way that they cross rivers,
gullys, whatever they do cross
i've never really been afraid of bridges

seems i've come to one that scares me.
nope not goin over this one.
this bridge, well it means leavin one side behind,
of course, thats what you do when you cross
a bridge, you leave one side for the other

i don't quite know how to get movin.
i still like being on this side, or the edge of
the banks of this side.
i know this side, its nice here.
well it was nice here.
now, its kinda foreign.
i'm all awkward, not myself,
i force a smile, when i really want to
beam from ear to ear, a big grin,
i want to laugh, laugh out loud
i want to talk incessantly,
talk of what i am thinking about, what i am
interested in.
talk like the nite i talked about my little black
notebook, with the graph paper, and the secret
accordian storage pouch in the back cover.

i stand on these banks, at the edge of the bridge
and i look back, back into the gardens,
the woods, the beaches that used to be mine to walk
through, to loll around in, to lay and to sleep
gently.
to smile and laugh, and make love in.
i want to run back to them, you know,
the way a little kid runs, runs so hard
almost like he doesn't know where is running to,
but that he has to run hard to get there.
hair blowing back, fists clenched and arms
pumping away.
feet pounding the ground with ferocity.

i wonder, should i shout?
should i yell back and see who comes to answer?
what if no one does, would that make me leave?

it's not that the other side is not beautiful, i'm sure
it is.
but i just saw so much here, so much potential,
a future.
children, and big green lawns to play in
on summer days
so much love, so many smiles,
i have never really payed much attention to smiles
really i havent, but now, i value them.
i do.
they are the simplest thing, yet so powerful

i seem to start to cross the bridge, get half way
and stop, turn around and come back.
bridges never really scared me before.
this one does.

i work with this guy named cooka, (not like cook in the kitchen, but loong o) not sure if the spelling is right but it sounds like it looks....like cook - a. he is from brazil. really nice guy in the kitchen, he works along side of giovanni, and chano. all three of them characters in their own right. gio calls me eric estrada. its really funny in the morning when i am cold, packing out produce. anyways....while doing deliveries most days myself or the other guy ends up with 50, or 100 dollar bills. In his less than broken english cook-a would ask if i had any 50's or 100's. i didn't ask why, but exchanged the bills for him. this morning i asked one of the guys why he always asked for the big big bills, well he sends the big bills home to his family. it kinda gave me a sense of awe. i mean i know that people do that, work 2 and 3 jobs and send money home to familys abroad. wow well i gotta go, i just got really tired all of a sudden and i will finish this later.

so i am working on this little project that came to me the other day. monday nite i met my friend nicole and her guy john out for drinks, it was her birthday. so we were sitting, drinking, talking and she was telling me about this exhibit that she had seen at the MOMA that afternoon in the city. apparently she goes to an art gallery/museum every year for her birthday. it makes complete sense as she is a brilliant artist. she does her own work, and it is amazing. really really creative.(yeah ok i had a crush a while back. its done, over. artsy girls just interest me) she also did a georgia o'keefe that i even recognized, and i know nothing about art. So anyways. that got me thinking about my first time at the MOMA, i took this girl emily on a first date. she was a art minor in college and i wanted to know if she could explain things to me, yeah just things about art. kinda vague i know, but whatever. well the reason for going to the MOMA, besides the date, was to see the Ansel Adams exhibit. i had never really known anything about him except for the prints you see for sail in poster stores. I had watched the special on him multiple times on PBS during the weeks leading up to the date, so it all worked out. Back to monday nite. i know when i have my birthday that nicole will probably make something cool for me, so i just want to do something nice for her. well i thought of ole' Ansel and figured i would try it out with my own pictures, frame one or two and give them to her. she would appreciate it. i hope at least. well here they are folks. hope you like them and if you have any suggestions, throw something at me.

today was another day tripper kind of day, that is until the rain ended the trip prematurely. so i went looking for Jack Kerouac's house in Northport. Its a tiny village on the north shore of long island that was established in 1626, or 1646, can't remember what the sign said. anyways. the plan was to walk around, take pics, go to the book store, used mostly, the antiques shop, the used record store (don't have a record player but i love looking at old records) stop in at Gunther's (the bar Kerouac used to get plastered at) and come home. So i hop in the car and shoot out there. He actually lived in the village north of northport out on eaton's neck and the village he lived in is call Asharoken, its after the tribe of Indians who lived there. a lot of the names down here have Indian origin, and they are none to easy to pronounce at first. well i guess that is no different than Cheektowaga. i love hearing people from out of town try to pronounce that. i will talk more about accents and pronunciations in a bit. anyways. back to the excursion. i get to this park/beach after having past Kerouac's address because some chic was tailgating me and there was no shoulder to pull off on to. i got a bunch of awesome pics, but then it started raining so i had to pack it in and come home. on the way back though i did get a bunch of good pics while driving. i held the camera on the steering wheel and took pics like that. so some are tilted oddly, thats cause i was turning duh. haha. i plan on going back this summer. i would like to get a bike, park somewhere and ride all over. it would be much easier to cover a lot of ground and that way you can stop wherever or whenever and take pics or rest. the area reminds me, or is similar to what i think new england is like (i say that because i have never been to new england but have a notion as to what it is like due to my imagination and what i have read in books and seen in movies) really rocky, nothing like the ocean beaches here on the south shore. all of the little communities are very sea living oriented. i believe the sound is a tidal water, and i think that means it is part fresh part salt water. anyways. i was out a couple weeks ago for happy hour and i was talking to my friend lynn about words, entymology i guess you could say. origins, terms, accents and pronunciation. it was really interesting. terms like eavesdropping, loose cannon, stuff like that. well i was explaining how i have the vhs tape from CBC that is on the topic of the canadian accent and how it has a lot to do with the loyalists from the american middle colonies who fled the revolutionary war, and how the brits brought over scotsmen to try and combat the yankee sound its really quite interesting, i have to find it and watch it again. my dad had taped it for me years ago. well now that i have rambled enough i am going to post those pics for yous guys and gals. hope you enjoy.

these are pics of sag harbour, the beach on dune road in the hamptons where all of the friggin insanely rich people live, and my room. the old pic is of my great great grandfather on the locomotive he was the engineer on. the bar, murphs tavern (the red door pic and on) was built in 1790. the beams and floors are hand hewn. original lumber. the place is awesome. the wood on the bar is so worn that it has a soft feel to it. enjoy. oh wow, didn't even realize it was my 100th POST!!!!! ding ding ding ding, *bells*, whistles, streamers, horns, confetti, YAY!!!!!