I know I have not posted anything in a long time, but as John Lennon said, "Life is what happens while you are busy making other plans." Well, today I have a good excuse to post something, some pictures I took with my new Canon PowerShot SX110IS (whew!), which is not a fancy camera by any means, but one I could afford. The other night it was cold, foggy, and drizzly in the Bayside section of Queens where I have my lair. Figuring it was an ideal night to go shooting pictures, I wandered around my nabe for about 30 minutes, like a forlorn ghost, shooting pictures. They were all in color of course, but responding to the mood of these pictures taken on a spectral evening, I converted some of them to black and white, and the overall effect of them is somewhat ghostly, but in a friendly way.


Long Island Railroad, Bayside station, looking East


Sports bar and Martha's Bakery next to station


Inside Martha's Bakery, 9:30 PM.


From the railroad overpass, foggy and drizzly night.


Flag: "Proud to be an American." Guy: Doesn't seem to be a ghost.


A friendly gathering of ghosts.


On the way home, met this ghost of a car. We bonded.

Have a nice morning/day/evening. Maybe more pictures another time,
easier than writing a post.

- Jeramon

In the more-or-less sane and normal world, one does not ask him/herself "Where am I having breakfast?" Of course, you are having breakfast wherever you are sitting/standing/lying down while you are eating your morning (or whatever) meal. Or you are eating at McDonald's, a diner, The Four Seasons, under a bridge, a million other possible venues.

But if you ask yourself, "Where am I having this meal?" in terms of where the food came from, this may lead to interesting results. This morning as I sat to have my breakfast of fresh fruit and tea, the idea did occur to me that the medley of fruits sitting in the bowl before must have come from a lot of different places.

So here is a picture (not very good I confess) of my breakfast, and the places from which it came, if I knew. And if I did not, then perhaps in some peculiar way, that would be an act of indifference to the abundance that surrounds me.



So, here is what my breakfast contained, and where they came from (if I knew).

- Grapefruit from Florida
- Papaya from Mexico
- Honeydew probably from South America
- Bananas from Costa Rica
- Strawberries from California
- Green tea and white tea from China
- Pomegranate juice from Azerbaijan (where the heck is that?)

People who meditate often remind themselves to practice "mindfulness" which generally means being aware of what the heck you are doing and experiencing at any given moment. Maybe mindfulness should also include having some idea of where your food came from as you eat it.

So, to the question, "where am I having breakfast?" the answer could be, "in all of these places." What would it mean for the evolution of human consciousness if people (including myself here!) thought this way about a lot of other things?

- Jeramon

Here's another of my fables for your enjoyment:

Caught in a raging summer storm

my boat broke in two upon the rocks

but I was saved by a young mermaid.

How can I thank you, I asked her.

You can thank me by marrying me.

Oh I said, I really like mermaids

But I already have a lovely wife.

She said, does your wife have a fishtail?

No, I said, she does not, she is human.

Then how can you call her lovely?

Not able to answer this question

I jumped into the water and swam home.

There I found a note from my wife:

It said, goodbye, I have decided

to run off with a centaur I met at the bar.

The picture below does not go with the fable above, but it is striking and artistic whatever else you may think about it: an unwilling abduction?

 

by D. H. Souter (1862-1935)

http://www.joseflebovicgallery.com

- (C) 2009 by Jeramon

Last Friday I moved into a basement apartment (Jeramon's Lair!) and had been working for about 15 hours straight, moving and settling in. It was about 11:30 PM, and just before taking a shower I decided to have a snack. Just as I was sitting on a chair against a wall, a long-legged insect began circling over my  head. It was large but very dainty. When I turned around to look for it, I could not see it.

Later on, when I returned to the same wall for another reason, there it was, sitting on the wall, motionless. I had never seen anything like it before, though I guessed it was some kind of dragonfly. It was about two inches across. I quickly went to get my cheap old Canon Powershot and took two pictures of the creature from close up. I was surprised that neither my presence nor the flash from the camera disturbed it in the least. It just sat (if you could call it sitting) on the wall, perfectly still.

I decided that it had no chance to survive in my basement so I got a quart sized plastic tub, covered the creature with it, and slipped a manila folder under it to capture it. Finally, the insect realized something was not right and began fluttering around inside the tub, until I opened the door to the backyard and let it out into the drizzly night.

Neither of the shots were that great with my old 2 megapixel Canon, but this is the better of the two.



The trouble with the dragonfly theory is that dragonflies have much shorter legs. And this is definitely no spider. It has the long legs of a water strider, but water striders do not have wings.  I have searched the Internet and have not been able to identify this delicate creature.

Anyway, despite being bone-tired, I decided to have some fun and began to produce different versions of the picture using Photoshop. Below are some of the images I got out of the photo above.

















I still don't know the name of this delicate creature, but I decided that for it to visit me on my first night in my new apartment was an auspicious omen. Superstitious? Not me!

- Jeramon

Here is a new very short fable I wrote. It has a poignant touch but it is also a bit of a conundrum, to wonder about.  

        The Wall

Climbing  the tall ladder

that leaned against the wall

he looked out over the top

climbed down and then up again

over and over and over.

What are you doing I asked.

He said, I’m looking out for my wife.

I promised her I would do it.

I asked, did she say she would come?

No, she is dead and buried

over by that almond tree.

Then why do you this, I asked.

Well, he answered quietly

if I don’t do it then who will?

- (C) Jeramon, 2009

Picture from Media Photobucket: "Freedom" by Indigo Silk

In today's post I am going to move in a somewhat different direction: FOOD! No my intention is not to make this into a cooking or recipe blog, but I do enjoy food like everyone else, especially wedgies, froots, nuts, and light on grains and legumes. So my hope is once in a while when I am seized by a mad desire to expose my ignorance about food, I will talk about it. My hope is to occasionally look at food through an uncommon lens, in aspects that are not the usual. At the same time to make the excursion into food a practical trip into the realm of delicious, health-inducing stuff. 

So today I want to focus on a very nice salad which I concocted that has none of the usual vegetables, but consists entirely of flowers, fruits, and nuts. Here is my artichoke salad, shown in a serving for one (I live alone, ahem, ladies out there, and I can cook, haha). Jus' kidding!

So here is my artichoke (a flower) salad with walnuts (a nut), garlic (of the lily family), cranberries  (fruit),  lemon juice (fruit), and olive oil (a fruit). It is  delicious, low calorie, low salt, high antioxidant, and the fats are good for the heart (walnuts, olive oil). And if you add tiny grape or cherry tomatoes, that is another fruit (yes, tomatoes are fruits). I was out of them today.

(Did you know that the heart is the body's primary sex organ? Yes it is, because that is the site of love. So take care of your most precious sex organ, your heart!)

 

Its easy to make. For each person slice into quarters 4 artichoke hearts (I prefer the ones not marinated in vinegar and oil, just water). Add walnut wholes or halves. Add dried cranberries or soft-soaked goji berries. If you are ambitious, saute some garlic cloves in olive oil or butter till brownish, add a bit of honey when done. Add to mix. Dress with lemon juice and extra virgin olive oil. Serve and be healthy. A nice salad without the usual veggies.

If you want to add flowers with real blossoms, and they are in season, zucchini blossoms are the way to go. If you can find them at a farmer's market, the usual venue for such exotica, jump on them before they disappear. Zucchini season is summer, so look out for them. You just toss them into this salad (after washing of course).

Oh, in case you have doubts about artichokes being flowers, here is an artichoke blossom:

A great site to learn more about 'chokes.

http://www.gourmetsleuth.com/artichoke.htm#Marinated%20Artichoke%20Hearts

Artichoke trivia: Marilyn Monroe was crowned the first Miss California Artichoke Queen in 1947. If that doesn't turn you on to 'chokes (speaking to the guys), what will?

My next post is going to be another fable. Come back.

- Jeramon

 

Here are two new fables I wrote, one about an old lady and one about a little girl, both of whom seem to have a special, perhaps quirky, kind of wisdom.

          The Old Woman

Ascending the mountain peak

I saw an old woman coming down.

On her back she carried a sack

whose weight bent her over

like a colossal question mark.

What are you carrying I asked.

Rocks for my garden she said.

But there are rocks down there, said I.

You don’t understand she said

these are from the mountain top

they have been touched by the  gods.

 

                   The Little Girl

Near the water’s edge she builds castles

which the next big wave knocks down.

Little girl, Isaid, why not build your castle

up there, where the wave can’t reach it.

Oh no,  she said, this way

I know the wave wants to play with me.

You are a very wise child, I said.

Oh, she said, the ocean is the wise one.

How is the ocean wise, I asked.

Because it never says anything, she replied.

 

- (C) Jeramon 2009

 

 

Sorry to say that I have had problems with my phone/Internet connections for the past two weeks, and it will be problematic for the next two, until I move into new digs. In the meantime, here is a quick post I want to do.

Last week, from out of nowhere, I began to write some very short fables, which is now a small but significant collection. Today, I would like to share with you the very first one. I am not going to pretend to know what it means. I just wrote down what I heard from my inner voice, which does not always obey me, but more often than not I obey it. Which is a funny way to explain it, because this fable has something about obedience. The title of this fable is simply it's number, 01:

01:

The old man sat under a leafy tree.

You look familiar he said to me.

I used to be your son, I said.

What are you now, he asked.

I am your father, I responded.

Then tell me what I should do.

 I said, sit there with a clear mind

until all the leaves turn to gold.

You will then die in sweet serenity.

Yes father, he said, I will obey.

From then on, one by one the leaves

began to turn into brightest gold.

- (c) 2009 by Jeramon

A couple of kind visitors have complimented the poems they read here, and there is nothing that a poet likes more than compliments. Warning: If you compliment a poet, he/she is likely to respond with another poem! So I would like to respond to these kind persons with a gift of...another poem, called The Gift. It is something I wrote in January of this year for a dear friend.
PS: She liked it.

                        The Gift

 Out of nothing comes this very love

Thus, nothing do I have to give thee

Save for these offered with apology

Baubles from a secret treasure trove:

Rubies and emeralds in blown kisses

Smell of rainfall on a bamboo roof

Song of  daisies dancing in the wind

Tinkling of chimes from a risen moon

Taste of raspberries in a jar of poems

Virgin honey from the Northern Star

Sun’s sweet fragrance at half past noon

Secret notes from a nightingale’s nest

Rolling thunder in a flowering bush

Scent of lavender in new fallen snow

Laughter from children not yet born

My heart whispering your one true name.                        

                                   
- (C) 2009, by Jeramon

I have not been actively blogging the past week because I have been involved in moving. For me moving is always an emotional time, and I am probably no different than most people in that respect. So out of sentiment and memory's sake, on the last day in my studio, which has a solarium, I took a couple of pictures.

The first one is the air mattress on which I slept for over a week, my bed having been moved out some time before. It has been cold on Long Island, so you can see the multiple layers of blankets I bury myself under. The sun is streaming in from the solarium to the right. The crater in the middle of the mattress still suggest a human presence. I find this a strangely appealing picture, one of exposed intimacy on my part, but also a glimpse of ordinary messy humanity.  After all, who wakes up in a perfectly neat bed?

This next picture I call The Last Meal before leaving this place forever: a breakfast of cheese omelet with grape tomatoes, and coffee. I see in this picture solitude and sad resignation. Outside, the sunshine has turned to light rain. The open outside and inside merge, but it still conveys a sense of imprisonment (all those vertical bars), a condemned man's last meal, haha. The interesting thing I find in this picture is that the very missing thing in this picture, someone sitting there eating breakfast, actually dominates the picture. The empty denim jacket slung over the chair is the crucial element. It was not planned, I just moved the chair over, and the jacket was already on it.So we have presence emphasized through absence. Curiously, isn't this the way we often feel about others to whom we are close? They are most powerfully there when we miss them.

- Jeramon