I blame it all on Pope Gelasius I.  He’s the one that started this whacky holiday.  I jest, of course.  Valentine’s Day is a grand holiday for those that have someone and a torrid day of shite for the rest of us that or either too high and mighty or too damaged to be of any use to anyone.  If you really think about it, the day is crappy for most folks.  People that are married or in a relationship go out and spend money they don’t have in order to impress upon their loved one that they love them.

The whole commercialisation of Valentine’s Day makes me sick, but I’ll admit that it is nice to come home to a cooked meal.  That’s all I need to feel special.  I believe that I can write a poem far superior to anything poor blokes can buy in a store.  Mind you, not all guys can do that.  But, they can, if they try, come up with something better than what they can buy.  And ladies, if you can’t cook, put on a little something special.  We men are easily impressed by little to no clothing!

May I prevail upon the lot of you to dig deep into your hearts this year and do something special for your significant other?  The northern hemisphere world is still in an economic crisis, so do yourself and me a feckin’ favour, don’t spend money you don’t have.  Pretentiousness and narcissistic attitudes are the reason we are in this mess.  Stop it now.  The best thing we can all do is learn from our past mistakes and do our best not to make them again. 

To me, at least, the most important aspect of St. Valentine’s Day is to tell that special person in our lives how we truly feel about them without holding back.  It is better to be honest than not.  But, if you think she’s fat, don’t say it!  Especially on Valentine’s Day! 

There are men and women out there that have given up on ever finding anyone.  My advice is to never give up and never surrender.  I’ve been kicked, beat with a pocket book (primary days.  I deserved it.), slapped, kneed, whacked across the nose (Welsh chick.  I was legless, but I’m quite sure I didn’t say anything to deserve a whack across the bridge of my nose.), and used.  I’m as crazy about women now as I was in my youth. 

Sometimes we have to make that nervous first step, but if we don’t, we’ll never know what would’ve happened.  My grandfather used to say that the things we don’t do are as important as the things we do.  It took me years to figure that one out.   

To all the men out there:

Stop grunting and pointing.  You wife/girlfriend is not your momma or your maid.  Stop treating her like a piece of property and be glad someone loves your sorry arse.  Listen to their overly narrative stories even though you find them horrendously boring.

To all the women out there:

Stop bitchin’ and moaning.  Sure, your man is a piece of shite.  Well, you picked him.  Deal with what you’ve got and try to make the best of it.  If you care for your man, get involved in the things that he likes to do and he might just do the same. 

I realise this is an oddly formed post, but in my own defence, I am hopped up on cold medicine.  I’m going to bugger off to count some drunken sheep.  I hope you all have a very Happy Valentine’s Day.

I leave you with something that keeps me busy on days like these.  Mind you, this is not my bug, but I do love the sound. 

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Christmas is a grand time of year, but a strange time as well.  People help other people out when they normally couldn’t be arsed to do so.  It ensures us that there is hope for humanity after all.  I did my bit and gave more than I could afford, but that’s what it is all about, yes?  Mind you, I’m not complaining.  I have a warm place to stay and a roof over my head.  That’s more than a lot of people have.  I do my best to remind myself of that every holiday season. 

I’m going to do my best in the new year to stop griping as much and stop using emoticons.  I loath and love the holidays.  As a single man, I’m reminded more than ever how lonely a single life can be.  I don’t normally tend to think of it, because I have so much school work and work that has to be done.  But, with the free time allotted during the cheery season, I’m reminded more than ever.  Family ask me over and over, “When are ya goin’ get married, JD”?  Or, they’ll tag this one on.  “Is there a woman in yer life, JD?”

As if I didn’t feel out of sync already.  Thanks Family.  They mean well.  That’s just their way of saying hurry up and get married.  My Aunt asked me on Christmas Eve like she always does, so I thought I’d mess with her a bit.

“So, Jefferson, any woman in your life?”
”I sure do.”  I stated with an enormous grin.

“Tell us ‘bout her…what’s she like?”   She asks while smiling and sitting down in an antique shield back dining chair.

“Well, she can be cold at times, but she warms up…oh boy.”  I enounced with enthusiasm.

“Really?  How old is she?”

“She’s fit and has plenty of curves, but she’s 45.”

“Ah, an older woman, aye?”

“Yep, but you’d never know it by looking at her”, I said with even more enthusiasm. 

“Is she a redhead?”

“Nope.  The only problem I have with her is that she’s blue.”

“Oh, she’s depressed…Why didn’t you bring her tonight?”  Auntie asked with curiosity.

“I couldn’t fit everyone in her.”  I stated whilst trying not to laugh.

Dazed and confused, she asked, “What?”

“She’s a ‘66 Volkswagen Beetle.”

Everyone busted into laughter and I was picked on for the rest of the night. 

Christmas was rife with drama not caused by me.  Christmas Eve, sister1, niece, nephew, and myself went over to my fathers mothers house as is the tradition.  My pops, stepmother, 4 more sisters, grandmother, two Uncles, and 2 Aunts were there to enjoy some food and watch the wee one’s open presents.  We all had a blast until there was some drama between sister1 and our father.  It was mostly her doing, but there are a lot of bad feelings there.  Things I’ve learned to accept and move on from.  It’s not healthy to hold onto bad things from the past.  The past is the past for a reason.  It shapes us, but it does not define us. 

After the drama was over, I took them home and came home to an empty house.  But, I started working on photos and forgot all about it.  The four glasses of wine might have helped.  Christmas morning, I arose before dawn and went to my sisters to watch my niece and nephew open presents.  My niece is 14 months old.  It’s entertaining to watch the wee one’s figure out how to open a present.  I helped my nephew put together a big gaming chair he received from Santa. 

Later that afternoon, I took my special chocolate oatmeal cookies to my other grandmothers house for Christmas lunch.  There was a wee bit more drama, but not as much as there was Christmas Eve.  I came home to an empty house yet again Christmas night and passed out.  The day after Christmas, I got a call from my mother.  She had just purchased me a new couch and wanted me to come pick it up.  As it happened, my neighbour needed a new couch, so after two hours of getting the old and massive couch out of my house, I gave it to him.  My cousin and one of his boys came over and helped me get the new one in as well as getting old one out.  It was a task and a half. 

I’ve spent the rest of the week sick with a cold.  The new couch has been thoroughly broken in though.  Hopefully the new year will bring good tidings to me and to you as well.

So, how was your Christmas?

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Over the past few months, I’ve heard a lot of anti bully talk and slogans.  I don’t like bullies any more than the next person, but if it were not for the bullies in my past, I wouldn’t be the person I am today.  I might be timider or a total jerk.  Only God knows what I would have become if I hadn’t of stood up for myself in high school after years of torment.

Everyone thinks that because I went to private school, I had it made and didn’t have to contend with such things as bullies, drugs, and threats.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  When I finished high school, I was five feet tall.  I was a small lad that weighed a total of 100 lbs. soaking wet.  At my school, we had around 30 kids in each grade.  It was a small school that I loved. However, when I was a sophomore, the principal started letting kids that had been kicked out of public school, attend our school.  So, all the ingrates whose families could afford private school, came to our school.  That’s when things started to change.

We had this one tall heavy set fella at our school that took joy out of picking little shites like me up and throwing us across a room.  He also enjoyed stuffing us into lockers and pulling our boxers up to our heads.  One day after lunch, I caught him strangling a friend for money.  I yelled for him to stop.  A few seconds later, a teacher came around the corner and he stopped.  He pointed at me, and said, “I’m going to get you, Davis, after school”.

Frankly, I was terrified.  I managed to skip by him, when my ride pulled up.  What he said nagged at me all weekend.  I was boxing with my father that Sunday and almost knocked him off of a three story deck.  I was so nervous Monday morning that I begged my mother to let me stay home.  I ended up going to school that morning, regardless of the consequences. 

Somehow, I managed to sneak by him all day.  The clan of nerds that I was the leader of brought lunch to my hideout in the janitors closet.  The rest of the day dragged on.  One teacher asked me what was wrong, because I was shaking so bad that she could barely read my writing.  I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t.

After the final bell rang, I decided to take the back exit that no one ever used to access the area where parents picked up their kids.  As I furiously ran around the corner towards the exit, a foot tripped me, and I went sliding into the lockers.  Before I could turn around, big boy and his cronies were picking me up like a feather.  I yelled for help, but to no avail.  My eyes darted back and forth searching for anyone to help, but only the girlfriends were there to watch me get beat senseless. 

He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and started picking me up.  It wasn’t that I was necessarily scared of him, it had more to do with the threat and the time that had passed thinking about it.  As he lifted me off the ground, I grew a spine and kicked his knee in as hard as I could.  I had legs of steel back then and still do.  We both fell to the frigid January ground and he started screaming.  The next thing I knew a minute had passed and I was still beating him senseless.  The principle came and after a time of pacing back and forth in the principles office, I explained what happened.   With a tearful, girly, cry, he said that he was just going to scare me. 

We became somewhat friends.  The last thing I heard about him was that he was in jail for attempted theft of an ATM.  I saw him about five years ago.  He was still going on about me busting his kneecap.  That may have been the first time I had to stand up for myself outside of the home, but definitely not the last.  Every time a new student would enter our school with an attitude, they’d test the dominate little shite, me.  But, thanks to big boy, they’d be fully warned ahead of time. 

Ever since I got into that fight in 2007, I’ve not had to be in another.  I don’t like to fight.  I’ll do just about anything to avoid it, but sometimes it is a necessity.  I realise that school is a lot different these days, but the basic rules still apply.  Take down the biggest one and the rest will flee.  Mind you, I’m not encouraging physical altercations, but you’ve got to stand up for yourself and others at some point.

P.S.:  I’ll be back Christmas Day with an inspirational post, I hope.

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In September of 2005, I started this whacky, artsy, and slightly insane blog.  I was flipping through the archives the other day and realised that I have grown up a lot.  There is still much maturing that needs to happen to me and the blog, but who wants to grow up, really?

I used to post intimate relationship matters.  Thankfully for me and the kind readers, I don’t do that anymore.  I’ve learned a great deal about people and the world through this harebrained experiment we call the blogosphere.  I’m grateful that I’ve met so many interesting and inspiring people.

This thing started because I was planning for a trip to Ireland and was searching iTunes for a podcast that might give me some tips.  I happened upon a podcast hosted by two expats living in Belfast, Northern Ireland.  I learned a considerable amount from their show, albeit most of the information was a twisted version of the truth.

The chap producing and hosting the show was inspiring, so I started a wee blog over on blogspot.  I don’t have much use for the guy, but like it or not, his podcast is the reason I started this crazy thing.  It has died and been reborn several times in the last six years.

Blogs are strange things, really.  They are our own personal space filled with our thoughts, dreams, and opinions on whatever subject we choose to discuss on a given day.  It feels private, but it is far from it.  Reading another persons blog is like breaking into their house and reading their diary with their permission.  It’s odd, but the world is odd.  The world is a smaller place because of it and I am very grateful for all of the friends I’ve made.

It is my greatest hope to keep blogging and learning from others.  In 2006, I was in a local pub having a pint and giving the poor sod beside me an earful of my relationship woes, when a nerdy (young version of myself) bloke came running up to me asking if I was the guy on that infamous podcast.  By late 2006, I had started my own podcast, so I was hoping that he was talking about my show.  He was talking about the other show that I was on in June of 2006.  I said that yes it was me and he brought his girlfriend over to meet me.  I told him what really happened on that particular show and he insisted on buying me another pint that I didn’t need.

After that I decided to work hard on the content of the blog and the podcast.  I managed to get the infamous Dr. Don to join the show.  He added hilarity and honesty that you can’t find just anywhere.  In Episode 25, Brian F. made his debut.  He made sure I didn’t go off the deep end with my rants and kept the facts straight.  He also added even more humour to the show.  A few months later Dario Sanchez graced us with his presence.  He’s hilarious and brilliant.  Not long after that, Brian managed to get the smart, funny, and talented Baino to join.  At around the same time, that famous and cantankerous auld fella, Grandad, joined the ranks on episode 44.  And finally, the infamous and hilarious K8 the Gr8 made her entrance and exit on Episode 50, Kilos of Craic.

I thoroughly enjoyed the podcast and would hope to produce one in the future.  There was no money in it, just the joy of getting together with people you know and talking about the craziest topics.  We all knew that we were having some sort of effect on someone somewhere.  When we stopped doing the show, we had several hundred listeners.  Not that many in podcast terms, but enough to encourage us to keep it going.  However, it was taxing on us all.  We had to line up a time to meet across 15 time zones.  It was far from easy but well worth it.

This blog has died off since those pioneering days of blogging and podcasting.  I was going through my own hell and everyone seemed to be going in different directions.  The content started to suffer, so I almost pulled the plug.  Thankfully, I kept it up as more of an archive than anything else.  I started to fall apart like an old stone wall ravaged by storms, but I am gradually rebuilding the wall, one stone at a time.  I can only hope I put them back in the correct order. 

I would not be the man, good or bad, I am today without the lot of you  Thank You all…

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Yesterday, I went hiking up at Jones Gap State Park, where I volunteered last year.  I decided to hike the most operose trail available, Hospital Rock.  It is estimated to be between 4.5 and 5 miles long.  The terrain starts out on a fairly level grade and steadfastly transforms to a steep and craggy path, if a person would be so kind as to call it a path.  It is more like an ancient path that has been recently discovered. 

Ancient boulders act as markers while pieces of kyanite, smoky quartz, garnet, tourmaline, and pyrite litter the trail.  All it takes is a wee bit of wonderment to spot them glistening in the rays of sun filtering through the trees.  This particular trail has its own history that is mostly made up of old stories that could be as much fiction as they are non-fiction.  The story states that Confederate soldiers hid out under a massive rock that has a large cavern under it.  It is said that these men hid out there to mend their wounds after the Civil War was over.  No one seems to know who was there or for how long.  One thing is for certain after witnessing the rock for myself, many campfires have been lit there over the centuries.  The ceiling, or underside of the rock, is laden with a thick layer of carbon.

There are dozens of trails in the Upstate of South Carolina that have been used for centuries.  People tend to forget about the Native Americans, Cherokee in this area, that have roamed this land since the Bison were here.  They cut out these trails for trade.  Then, the white man (me ancestors) came and used them for the same purpose along with the movement of soldiers from one fort or village to another.  They were used considerably during the Revolutionary War as a tactical advantage to surprise the Red Coats.  They were used yet again during the Civil War for the same purpose.  The element of surprise is a grand one.  During prohibition, they were used to transport moonshine.  They are still being used today, albeit at a lesser extent, to transport illegal narcotics.

The history behind these places is what drives me to keep returning.  Along with the fact that being one with nature is a way of ridding one’s self with the woe’s of this MAD modern society.  It is imperative that we get away from the madness as much as possible to cleanse our minds and souls.  That is exactly what I was doing yesterday, when I heard a light rustling of leaves below me.

I stopped in my tracks and listened closely.  I heard the snapping of twigs down in the ravine between two ridges.  I looked down and discovered something black crawling through the woodlands.  I couldn’t make a figure out through the vibrantly green foliage, but I knew what it was just by its heavy breathing.  Black Bears are out in large numbers this year due to their native habitat being destroyed by man, so that man can have a plusher house overlooking the valley. 

I lightly walked up the trail, being careful not to make a sound as I passed him or her.  It is better to leave them alone, and they’ll leave you alone.  Unless, however, you happen to be carrying food and they are hungry.  They are inquisitive and powerful creatures that I respect.  That is the problem with mankind.  We have lost respect for that which could tell us the most about ourselves.

About a half mile past the bear, I heard a light buzzing on the trail.  I was breathing heavily due to the 3,000ft ascent I was climbing.   The buzzing got louder and as I was about to turn around, I caught the glimpse of a dozen or so dirt daubers coming straight towards me.  I had dealt with these beast of the sky before, so I decided to use the same tactic that worked well in the last scenario – run!

The 35lbs. of gear that had been weighing on my shoulders suddenly became light as a feather, as I ran through the forest.  I looked back to see if they were still following me and managed to tumble over some rocks, banging my shin up in the process.  I ended up not making it to the Rock.  I was exhausted and didn’t want to fight the dirt daubers again.  They really don’t like something about me.  I get chased by them every year up there!

I passed by where I discovered the black bear but didn’t see him or her anywhere.  He or she was close to the river, so it may have been on its way down to do some fishing or bathing.  After all of the excitement, I headed home and passed out.  Another day in the life of Jefferson Davis. 

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There are nights when I lie awake pondering what I accomplished on that particular day.  I contend that we should treat everyday as if it were our last.  According to western medicine, the clock stopped on me a long time ago.  I bewilder doctors to no end.  I tell them that I’m running on God’s good humour.  They laugh and tell me how lucky I am to be alive. 

All of us get into routines and we forget about what is truly important in the grand scheme of life.  We are here for a short time.  What we do with that time is paramount.  We all lose sight of that from time to time.  Admittedly, I don’t always practice what I preach.  I am anything but perfect.  Tonight, however, I can rest peacefully knowing that I did something good.

I picked up my nephew from school, as I do everyday as well as taking him to school.  I stepped up to the plate to help out until sister 1 gets back.  I picked him up from school and brought him to my house, so he could help me cut up some dead pine trees.  I grabbed a sharpened axe out of the shop and started teaching him how to cut logs.  I demonstrated how to cut a V into the log, chopping at one angle and then changing hands and chopping from the opposite angle.  I finished cutting the log and handed the axe to him.  After a few roughly delivered blows to the log, he got mad, dropped the axe, and stomped off. 

One of the biggest lessons to learn in life is to be determined towards your goals.  I am rebellious and downright tenacious.  These qualities lend themselves well to a person of my complexity….

BREAK:  A cousin had a PowerPoint crisis that I had to fix, so I was distracted from writing for a bit.

I grabbed the axe and told him, “Boy, you can’t give up that easily.  Look at your Uncle.  I’m blind in one eye and can’t see out of the other, yet I do more than has ever been expected of me.  I was told I’d never be able to drive, and I drive two lovely vehicles wherever and whenever I want.  Doctors told your Grandmother and grandfather that I’d have to go in a home and that I’d never be able to live on my own, and I’ve been on my own for close to two decades.  According to western medicine, I’m not supposed to be alive, but I’m alive with piss and vinegar running through my veins.  I had to wear leg braces when I was a lad and am very lucky to be walking today.  And, I vigorously kick butt and chase skirts on a daily basis”. 

“These problems or disabilities, if you must call them that, that I have make me a stronger person.  I am who I am because of the pain and suffering I have endured.  It took me a long time to realise that.  I hope it don’t take you as long.  You’ve got to have passion in your life and put all that you are into everything that you do.  In my opinion, that is the only way to live.  That log that you gave up on is mocking you.  You’ve got to respect it because it is a part of mother nature, but you’ve got to show it who is boss.”

He went on to split that log and a few other small logs.  I am doing my best to teach him discipline.  He is twelve and has the attitude of a twelve year old.  He doesn’t give me lip because he knows I don’t put up with it.  The grand thing about being an Uncle is that I can send him home, if he gets to be too much of a thorn in my side. 

Serious, he’s a good lad and I do my best to pass on some vital life lessons.  He unwittingly is teaching me how to be a parent even though I’m not one. 

P.S.:  I must sincerely apologise for not posting in such a long time.  I’m going to make a valiant effort to post something of worth more often.  I’m very busy at present, like so many others, but I’ll do my best to respond to any remarks in a timely manner.  Thank you all for your kind words and support over the years.  There’s quite a few of you that have influenced my life more than you realise.  I’m grateful for all of you.  Have a grand week all

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I have a gripe that perhaps some of you have as well.  There are tens of thousands of groups on Flickr.  Over the years, I’ve joined quite a few and contribute when I can.  There is an entire segment of groups centralised around the cities in which we reside.  I too think this is grand.  It gives us an opportunity to show how beautiful or ugly our city may be according to the filter we use to perceive our surroundings. 

Again, the premise is grand but the implementation of such a construct is atrocious.  My home cities group is filled with pictures of food and humorous expressions!  What does that say about the city in which I was born?  We’re funny and fat?    In all fairness, there are shots of grand architecture, landscapes, portraits, and lovely shots that tell compelling stories.  Photography, at least in my wee opinion, is about evoking an emotional response in the viewers.  The trick is to get the actual reaction
you were hoping for.  In just as many instances, however, it is just as important to tell a story with that simple yet daedal medium.

Ask a different photographer, and you’ll get a different answer every time.    Enough rambling.  I’m going to bugger off now and have a cuppa tea.

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I’ve been having a rough go at it this last year.  It was a year ago today that I quit my job and started making plans to leave the states.  Plans don’t always come to fruition.  In a way this was a good thing.  I learned from my mistakes and will not make them again. 

2009 did not start out any better.  I suffered financially for months, but again, I gained more than I lost.  Sometimes things happen for a reason.  People tend to blame ‘God’ for everything that goes awry in their lives.  I do not believe that God puts us in bad situations.  It is of our own doing the majority of the time.  I do believe in free will.  What happens in our lives is up to us!

We can’t stand back and hope that good things will happen to us, we have to make them happen.  If you want to be a famous musician or mogul, you’ve got to make it happen.  It takes dedication and a lot of sweat.  It is true, however, in America and elsewhere in the civilised world that it is not what you know but who you know.  This vexes me but it is a part of life we have to contend with just like disabilities or other problems that inhibit our abilities.

Recently, I became aware that the server that this blog resides on was about to expire.  I could renew the contract with the server company for another two years for a nominal fee or just let it go into the ether of the internet.  I struggled with this for a while, not really knowing what to do.  On the one hand, it is an archive or my work and on the other it’s archive of mistakes.  It’s a double edged sword or sorts. 

So, I called a dear friend yesterday and the subject of the blog came up.  I told her that I was going to shut it down.  She threatened to come o’er here and kick my arse for doing such a vile act.  She really inspired me saying that my poems and pictures bring hope and beauty into the lives of those that view them.  She went on to say that the world needs more people like me to be inspirational in tough times such as these. 

In an enquiry that was not about vanity but about honesty, I said that life is a play and somewhere along the way I’d like to get up on stage if only for a moment.  She told me to fight.  To get out and fight for a spot rather than let my stomach curl up into a ball of knots.  She went on to say that I should knock those that never paid their dues off their pedestals and fight the actus reus of the world with an iron maul.  She may not be my lady anymore, but she is one hell of a friend.

After her pep talk, I decided to keep the blog going.  The world isn’t getting rid of Jefferson Davis just yet!  First thing Monday morning, I’m going to pick a fight with a newspaper editor.  I want and deserve a job, dammit!  

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Wednesday afternoon I was in city centre doing a quick walkabout to stretch my legs.  As I sauntered past the white collar littered promenade at lunchtime, a crowd of suits sped past me.  One of them pushed me and my camera gear up against a brick building facade.

Normally, I would have brushed him off as an eejit and went on my way.  But, I had something eating at my gut, so this little incident sent me slightly over the edge.  I have nothing against people in suits.  I have a lot of suits.  I enjoy looking professional, but being that I’m a country boy, I am much more comfortable in denims and a t-shirt.

“What is your problem?” 

He turned around, looked at me, whispered something to a cohort, laughed, and continued on his way.

Just the mere mannerisms and holier than though attitude infuriated me further, so I bit my bottom lip and lectured, “Between me and my family, we pay over a ****** ******* dollars to this state alone every year, so as long as I’m following the laws and mores  of our wee society, I’ll walk where, when, and how I want…I’d be more careful of who I knock over, if I were you”.

“Oh Yeah?”  He enquired whilst cockily crossing his arms and snickering with his twenty something pals.

“Yeah”, I boldly stated.

“Who’s your father then, tough guy?”

““*** Davis.”

“The *** Davis?”

“The one and only”, I answered whilst sighing.

“You’re kidding me, right?”  He jokingly asked whilst destroying a piece of gum.

“No.”

“*** Davis has no son…he has three girls.  I know him.  My firm, *********, does work for him”, he laughingly hollered as a crowd gathered.

“He has six children, whether you know it or not”, I muttered while turning to walk away.

“If I were you, I’d be more careful about lying to make yourself feel big", the chump yelled whilst pushing his comrades forward.

The English lady from the coffee house that I was standing in front of patted me on the back and told me not to mind him.  I had a café noir fuelled walk and went home.

Later that night, I was sitting here at my desk fuming about what the bloke said.  As hard as it was to swallow, it was almost the truth.  I had not talked to him in months.  We had a wee bit of a falling out over a wee money issue.  I had called his phone on numerous occasions and left messages trying to rectify the situation, but to no avail.

I went to the kitchen cupboards to fetch some Earl Grey and there peering out of the dark recess was a brand new bottle of a precious beverage from Ireland.  I grabbed one of my grandfathers favourite glasses and the green bottle.  Humour flowed from a TV show I rarely miss loosely based on the FDNY as well as the bottle. 

A crack of thunder rattled the windows, as I searched the darkness for the incoming light show.  The rain had lightly been pelting against the office window all night.  While trying to grab a ciggy and a light, I stumbled a bit not realising how much I had consumed.

I stood at the back door and gazed out into the blackness of the garden.  While smoking that one ciggy, a thought popped into my bevvied head.  So, I grabbed my keys and phone and headed out the door. 

I ran from one wet street to another until I approached the main thoroughfare.  Soaked from head to toe, I stopped and gawped at the quarter moon peering through a gap in the heavy mist.  I gazed at the moon, while standing on that sidewalk, enquiring as to why things are the way they are.  Then, a suburban whizzed by covering me in road muck.

So, I decided to run to the 24hr bistro, encountering heavy raindrop laden puddles, like broken mirrors illuminated by lightning strikes along my path.  When I got to the bistro, one of the waitresses that I know offered me a towel to dry off and brought me a cup of coffee.  She asked if I was alright, and of course, I said I was fine.  She knew better because I never show up in the middle of the night.  She told me to call Red, an off and on again petite amie.

12:30AM  Ring…ring…ring…ring

“Hello”, she whispered.

“Hey”, I hollered in a half inebriated manner.

“What time is it?”  She pleaded as the ruffling of covers and feathers could be heard over the phone.

“It’s 12:30.  I’m at the bistro.  I need you to pick me up so we can talk.”

“Are you kiddin’ me?”  She enquired with a bit of disdain in her tone.

“No.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Only slightly”, I uttered whilst trying not to laugh.

Click

I reasoned that she was mad at me for waking her up, so I finished my coffee.  The kind waitress offered to call me a cab, but I benignantly refused.  I took my time walking home.  The thunderous storm had passed and a murkiness thick enough to cut through with one’s body had settled in its place. 

It was around 1:30 in the morning, when I turned onto my street.  I sneakingly walked past the other houses, hoping not to wake my ever alert grandmother that lives two houses down. 

By the time I approached my front yard, the audaciousness and silliness had wavered.  I discovered a glint of something on my front stoop.  Scared, I drew closer.  A figure came into view through the vapours.  I got closer and realised it was…

It was her.  She walked up to me shivering, her countenance filled with rage and worry.

Slap

“Don’t you ever scare me like that again”, she whispered in my ear.

I had never been prouder than at that moment.  It was not my intention to worry her or anyone else, but it was nice to know that she cares.

For Her:

Freckles is a savage word.

How about dapples of lust,

Honey sisters,

Blunders of the Sun,

Love in lace,

Damsel’s shivers,

Silent baubles,

Caramel kisses,

Blotch of arcs,

Or a serene flock?

To Pops:  Happy Fathers Day, dude!  You’ll always be my pops, and I hope to make you proud one day.  A little bit of time is all I’m asking for.

P.S.:  Drinking and smoking are not things that I condone or would suggest that anyone start.  I don’t have an addictive personality, so I can get away with the occasional drink or gasper.

P.P.S.:  Most of us have father issues in one form or another.  Our fathers are our fathers no matter what.  Tis best to love them, because we never know when we or them may not wake up one morning. 

Honour thy Father and thy Mother.

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As the sound of splintering white oak limbs reverberated across the large ravine, I thought of my grandfather.  If it were not for him, I wouldn’t have known what to use to shelter myself from the horrendous rainstorm that blew out of nowhere deep in the wilderness trails of Caesar’s Head State Park.  I would not have known how to get safe drinking water, when my water reserves ran out.  And, I certainly would not know how to track, kill, and clean deer or bears, if such an extreme were necessary.

Saturday morning I decided to go hiking by me self.  It is irritating when someone offers to join me, yet he or she only has a two or three hour window in which to hike.  That is utterly useless.  When I go hiking, I hike for at least four hours.  I go on wild walkabouts simply for the journey.  The constantly changing elevation and terrain is better than any tread climber.  The scenery isn’t bad either. 

On a usual trip, I see snakes (this time too), wild boars, bears, wildflowers, and of course, huge squirrels.  It is indeed a treat to hike through the mountainous terrain that is my home. 

Grandfather and I spent every summer of my youth camping, fishing, and hiking.  He taught me everything I know about how to survive in the wild.  He spent ages teaching me which wild berries are edible along with how to clean animals.  I didn’t always enjoy it, but sitting here today, I am very grateful that he passed it on to me. 

His parents died in a car wreck, when he was seven.  His mothers family on the Cherokee reservation took him in and raised him ‘til he was thirteen.  The elders of the tribe treated him as one of their own, even though his father was ‘white’.  He was taught all of the traditions that were still being passed down through the generations at that time.  Sadly, most of these teachings are fading away with the memory of the trail of tears. 

Gramps was on his on from his teens until he met my grandmother at a dance in 1949.  They were head over heels for each other from that point forward and married in ‘50.  Both had jet black hair yet managed to have three blonde haired, blue-eyed children. 

Everyone called him Abe, because he was a spitting image of Abraham Lincoln.  I don’t know if he fashioned his beard like Lincoln’s on purpose, but he definitely got a kick out of the remarks.  At 6’5”, he had the stature of a giant and the posture of a titan.  Throughout his life, he had five heart attacks.  I never heard the man whine or whimper once in the seventeen years that I knew him. 

When I was a wee lad, he would take me bowling.  This happened quite frequently, since I was sick a lot and unable to go to school.  On one occasion, a drunk started mocking me because of the way I talked.  He made the mistake of calling me retarded.  Gramps hit him so hard and fast that the man slid halfway down the alley.

He taught me a lot about life, but the most important one of all was to keep going down that wacky, and sometimes wicked, trail we call life no matter how arduous it may become.  So, I kept going down that lengthy trail soaked from head to toe and already exhausted.  Five miles later, a few blisters and bruises, and wrecked knees I emerged victoriously.  Fifteen miles through some of the toughest mountainous terrain the Southern United States can provide. 

Survivor Tip:  If you are in need of water and it happens to be raining (lucky you/me), simply ring out your clothes.  I got enough water out of my t-shirt and a few leaves to almost fill up the water bottle.  I could have used water from the rivers and streams that surround the trails, but I would have had to set up camp, start a fire, and boil the water.  Because of pollution and disease, the water in the rivers and streams is not safe to drink unless boiled.  You’re not supposed to drink from rivers right after it rains anyway due to the animal faeces that washes off the banks. 

How ‘bout some pictures? 

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Tap…tap…tap

Whack…whack…whack…

Bang…bang

“This better be good at…4AM”, I yelled whilst wiping the muck from my eyes.

“Who the f*ck is it?”  I demanded, as I treaded across the frigid oak floors towards the back door.

“It’s Dr. Don.”

I unlocked the door and swung it open in anger of be awoken.

“What are you doing here this time of the morning?”  I pleaded while rubbing my dreary head and heading to the kitchen to make a cup of tea.

After putting the water on to boil, I realised that he was sporting a green t-shirt with a big shamrock on it.

“Shite”, I exclaimed whilst running to my bedroom.

“Happy Saint Patrick’s Day, dude”, he said, as he looked through the cupboards for something to snack on.

I grabbed my camera gear and supplies and headed out the door a few minutes later.  We got on the main highway about 4:30AM.  It’s quite fun to drive early in the morning.  The roads were empty at that time of dawning, so I could use two lanes if I so desired. 

Just as we started making good time, it started misting rain.  I turned on the windshield wipers to alleviate the haze overtaking my view.  The drivers side wiper started acting erratic, veering way off its predetermined course, so I turned them off and back on.  It fell over and hung precariously off the drivers side of the windshield.

“This is not a good omen”, I cogitated whilst looking for a place to pull over in the pitch blackness of an empty road.

We pulled into a rest area and inspected the damage.  We couldn’t help but laugh, when we discovered that the gears in the wiper motor were stripped.

“I hope the rain stops”, I laughingly muttered whilst getting back in the truck.

“Ah, throw a string on it and yank it every time it starts to mist”, Dr. Don muttered, as he stared into the vacuous rest area.

Luckily, the rain clouds dissipated and we continued down I-385 S.  Once we got on I-26 East, the driving was a breeze.  I put the truck in cruise control mode and relaxed a bit.  Dr. Don freaked out a bit, when I pretended to be asleep and let the vehicle veer closer to the concrete median. 

After breakfast somewhere near Columbia, SC, Dr. Don went to sleep and I sliced about a half hour off the trip by speeding.  When I saw the Savannah River in the distance, I turned up the radio to wake him.  We arrived about an hour before the parade.  People of all colours, shapes, and sizes were painted in green.  The one’s that weren’t covered themselves with a lovely green beer.  It wasn’t Guinness, but eh?

After fighting through a crowd of a half million people, I finally found a spot to take pictures.  I normally hop from place to place to get different perspectives, but because there was a mass of people and I was trying to stay within seeing distance of Dr. Don, I stayed in one spot the entire time. 

It was an all out celebration of Craic.  Some whacky and legless college guys ran out into the parade street and high fived everyone while screaming, "Éirinn go Brách".  Others would run up and yell, “Irish, yeah”.  It was a party on wheels. 

I watched bands march by from about thirty US states, including:  Georgia, Wyoming, Florida, New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, Maine, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, Pennsylvania, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, and Delaware to name a few.  Heck, there was even a bagpipe band from Edinburgh, Scotland. 

An African-American woman with a hellish attitude and seven kids tried to root me out of my spot.  I didn’t mind the kids getting a decent spot, but when she tried to push me out of the way, I got irate and decided to leave before saying something and causing a riot. 

Dr. Don was arguing with her husband, so I grabbed him out of the crowd and walked away.

“On the one day when American’s with Irish ancestry can celebrate their heritage, someone has to start some shite”, I muttered, as we walked away.

“She was just dreaming that Obama was in the parade and had to get a closer spot, being that he’s Irish and all.”

“Yer not Irish, unless yer born in Ireland”, I muttered, as we walked into a quaint little cigar shop.

“Does the north count?”

I laughed and we picked out some proper cigars.  We sat by the river and watched babes in short shorts and skin tight T’s compete in a wet t-shirt contest. 

We hung around for about another hour talking junk to the fairer sex.  One woman thought I worked for a paper, so I went with it.  

I hadn’t been down there since I was knee high to a grasshopper, so it was nice to go back even for a day.  When we returned to the truck, we decided to take a wee side trip to Charleston, S.C..  It is older than Savannah and even more picturesque.  The city was formed in 1670 and was once the fifth larges city in the United States. The first shots of the Civil War were fired there as well.  So, it is truly a historic playground.  One of my ancestors, a Mr. McManaman (can’t remember his first name at present) from County May, died there during the Civil War. 

We hopped on I-95-S  and sped away from Georgia.  I stayed behind a big rig that was speeding, so we made good time.  We crossed the massive Cooper River Bridge around 4:30PM.  It is the largest cable-stayed bridge in the Western Hemisphere.  And, people say we’re a bunch of hicks in South Carolina!?

I took a few shots of the coast and the Cooper River.  We walked through battery park.  The architecture of the plantation houses and mansions is awe inspiriting. 

After observing the rich women (A person has to be well off to reside in auld Charleston.)  jogging through the park, we treaded down some side streets.  The streets are very narrow, so I was not surprised when a lady in a minivan ripped a mirror off the side of a painters van.  The painter ran out into the street discovering his drivers side mirror laying shattered on the paving stones.  The nice lady returned and apologised to the gentleman. 

“dun’t w’rry ‘bout it ma’am…these types ah t’ings happ’n down ‘ere”, he muttered as the lady helped him pick up the mirror shards.

She offered her insurance information and her number, but he wouldn’t take it.  After she left, he got all of his things together and proceeded to leave.  As he pulled away, the rear bumper fell off.  He parked, got out, rubbed his head, and yelled, “Shit’”. 

Dr. Don and myself got a good laugh out of this and headed back up the road.  When we arrived at his house, my hands were stuck to the steering wheel, and I was unable to bend my arms. 

“So, how long is it gonna take you to get this on the blog?”

“I’ll have it up by the time I pay dearest deeds to the moon before it fades away.”

“Yer full of shit…”

“Within a fortnight”, I mummbled whilst puffing on a cigar in the mountainous night air. 

Dr Don sighed and went in the house.

I drove a wee bit over 600 miles in a day not including all of the walking.  We had a blast!  I look forward to doing it again soon.  Although, next time I may have a chickidoo with me. 

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The infamous Brian F. and that wascally wabbit, K8 the Gr8 have tagged me for an intriguing and hilarious meme.  It’s a twist that the B man came up with after getting the meme from SparkyBing and Wordnerd.

1.Your rock star name (first pet, current car) – Zack S10 

For you holy eardrums only, I present the heart pounding and strumming rocker, Alsatian S10, straight from Berlin.

2.Your gangsta name (favorite ice cream flavor, favorite type of shoe) – Strawberry Boots

Suupppppppppp?????    DJ Strawberry Boots is ‘n da house!

3.Your Native American name (favorite color, favorite animal) – Emerald Squirrel

Emerald Squirrel pursues a doe in amidst tall witnesses of his ancestors hunting grounds.  He pauses in the thicket as the doe feeds.  He clinches his fist tightly around his grandfathers bow, pulls back, aims, and releases.  The auld spectators open their arms with glee to see what the prize be. 

4.Your soap opera name (middle name, city where you were born) – Shane Greene-ville

Get the fuck away from my woman Shane Greeneville. 

5.Your Star Wars name (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 of your first name) – Davje

Davje, I am not your father!  I may have asked your mother to come up and see my etchings, but that doesn’t mean that you’re my son.  She had many pursuers. 

6.Superhero name (2nd favorite color, favorite drink) – Lazuline Guinness

Thank you, Lazuline Guinness.  How can I ever repay you?   Madam, the man of steel could use some lubrication.

7.NASCAR name (the first names of your grandfathers) – Ruthel Luther

Ruthel Luther slides into the smoky wreckage in the third turn.  Will he make it out?  This is for the cup folks……….And, he makes it out without a scratch.  The crowd jumps up and cheers as the lone driver passes the finish line.

8.Dancer name (the name of your favorite perfume/cologne/scent, favorite candy) – Intuition Brittle

Intuition Brittle terpsichores around the dance floor like lump of lead skipping across a pond.

9.TV weather anchor name (your 5th grade teacher’s last name, a major city that starts with the same letter) – Quinn Quebec

South Kakalaky’s number one meteorologist, Quinn Quebec, will be on at eleven with breaking news.  Sunshine!

10.Spy name (your favorite season/holiday, flower) – Fall Tulip

Merka’s most covert intelligence officer, Fall Tulip, should be breaking into Kim Jong-il’s inner sanctum any second.  Dear God.  We just got a report from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s office.  It appears that Fall Tulip has been hit by a blast of nuclear bugers but is still going, slinging the slime of his night vision goggles as he proceeds. 

11.Cartoon name:(favorite fruit, article of clothing you’re wearing right now) – Apple Jeans

Jeezzz Apple Jeans.  That was a close one.  Time to fade into the criminal realm and take a bite out of crime.

12.Hippie name (what you ate for breakfast, your favorite tree) – Banana Dogwood

Hey, Banana Dogwood, slip me some of that happy grass.  Or, as yuz guyz call it, Mary Jane. 

13.Movie (or porn) star name (first pet, first street where you lived) – Zack Whitehorse 

Zack Whitehorse stomps down Arch street with a Louisville Slugger in one hand and a fist full of vengeance in the other. 

Who can I pester with this wee meme?  Me thinks that Baino and Grannymar could use some pestering.     Of course, this is open to anyone that would like to play along. 

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Right, I’ve been extremely busy upon my return home as you can imagine.  I edited about 75 photos Saturday evening.  I’ll finish the rest and have them uploaded by Sunday evening.  Thank you in advance for patiently waiting. 

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Half a million people, green beer, green river, shamrocks, beads and a parade equals one heck of a party.  I drove 600 miles roundtrip Tuesday to be at the Savannah, G.A. Saint Patrick’s Day Parade.  It’s the biggest parade south of Chicago, IL.  It was well worth the trip.

I’ll be back tomorrow evening to upload photos and do a proper post.  I’m exhausted!

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Many apologies for the lack of post this week.  My family had a bit of a crisis.  Everyone still has their fingers and toes so no worries.  Saturday will be a grand and somewhat green start to a brilliant weekend.

I’ll be at Return to Green distilling a days worth of events into fifty to a hundred memorable photos.  We are supposed to be blessed with a blue sky, bibulous smiles, and a green river.

This wee festival is my hometowns early celebration of Saint Patrick’s Day.

I’ll update the post with a proper description and pictures Saturday evening.

UPDATE:  I made a bit of a mess of things with the dates.  The festival is tomorrow, Sunday, the 8th day of the third month of 2009.  Ooopppssss.  

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We were warned on Friday that we would get up to a foot of snow Sunday evening.  I laughed at the very thought of it.  Tis not very common for us, the southern US, to get snow in March.  However, I remember it snowing as late as Easter, when I was a lad.  In fact, I remember being snowed in, in the middle of March on my birthday.  Hint!  That year, we had a blizzard of epic proportions.  I vividly remember wading waist deep through it and disappearing into a sea of white fluff. 

The continuous pelting of raindrops over the past week turned my yard into a mud hole.  About 5:00PM yesterday, sleet began mixing in amongst the droplets of frigid rain.  Only minutes later, everything around me was covered in a light dusting of snow.  It started out as tiny bits of snow and ice mixed together and progressed into cascade of powdery flakes. 

There’s nothing I like better than a good blizzard.  It purifies the air and kills off all of the nasty critters that I can’t stand anyway.  I got out and played in the snow, capturing moments in time along the way.  I ended up at my Uncle’s house.  He was going on about not being able to watch the telly because of snow buildup on the roof.  Pardon the pun, Uncle. 

So, we wrapped up and headed out to knock the snowfall off the Dish.  The moment we got the signal back, the power went out.  I speedily called the utility company and was told that the power would promptly return at 5:00PM Monday.  This made me irate, so I told the kind lady that I had two grandmother’s that could not be without power due to the freezing temperatures.  She dutifully told me that my grandmothers and about a half million more would have to find somewhere to stay overnight. 

I hastened the delivery of heaters to me nannas and then tried to figure out what to do about moi.  After all, I needed to stay warm as well.  My Uncle offered me a couch in his heated and powered RV, so I took him up on it. 

We woke up at four this morning to find the power on.  Those poor fellas that get paid $75 an hour must have worked all night long.  Some neighbourhoods are still without power.  I’m very thankful to be sitting in this cozy house rambling about nothing.

About 4:30AM, I treaded across the snow laden range that separates our houses.  I’ve walked through that area at all times of the night and day and never had a worry except for the crack heads two streets over.  This morning it was eerie. 

The ever wise moon casted sombre cerulean moonbeams across the landscape leaving crisp lines in the icy abyss.  I, in my own abysmal cerebrations, glanced up to discover the moons half smirk and laughed.  Quietly, I walked across the plain leaving a stamp of myself behind.  As I approached the house, the snow ceased thus did I.  Perhaps it was nature itself trying to tell me to stop and look.  I heard frozen limbs creak as clumps of snow fell from the heavens. 

A wee squirrel leapt from a low limb onto the plush snow, twitched his head and tail in a synchronous motion back and forth.  He struggled across the snowy woodland behind my residence, and made his way to one of the evergreen trees and began hastily digging for treasure.  I knelt there for a few minutes and watched the gnawer dig with his little paws.  I finally gave up and went inside. 

A few minutes ago I went outside and he had dug a bunch of holes in the snowpack.  One extremely important principal we can learn from nature, is to never ever give up.  If you can’t find your treasure in one location, try somewhere else until you find it.  Squirrels are brilliant little critters, aren’t they? 

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I found this lovely wee meme over at K8 the Gr8s, who was tagged by Brian F., who got it from Absolute Vanilla. 

Everything I’ve done will be in green, while the things I’ve not done will be either white or black depending upon whether you are reading it on the blog or in a RSS reader. 

1. Started my own blog
2. Slept under the stars
3. I have played in a band
4. Visited Hawaii
5. Watched a meteor shower
6. Given more than I can afford to charity
7. Been to Disneyland
8. Climbed a mountain  What size mountain are we talking about here?  Specifics!
9. Held a praying mantis
10. Sung a solo
11. Bungee jumped
12. Visited Paris
13. Watched lightning at sea
14. Taught myself an art from scratch
15. Adopted a child
16. Had food poisoning
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty
18. Grown my own vegetables
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France
20. Slept on an overnight train
21. Had a pillow fight
22. Hitchhiked  Sigh…Gotta do what you’ve got to do!
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill
24. Built a snow fort
25. Held a lamb

26. Gone skinny dipping  I was 11 and stupid.  She was 15 and hot!  I was impressed, she wasn’t. 
27. Run a Marathon
28. Ridden in a gondola in Venice
29. Seen a total eclipse
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset  The Caribbean sunrise is indescribable. 
31. Hit a home run
32. Been on a cruise
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person
34. Visited the birthplace of my ancestors  Most of ‘em. 
35. Seen an Amish community
36. Taught myself a new language
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person
39. Gone rock climbing
40. Seen Michelangelo’s David
41. Sung karaoke
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt
43. Bought a stranger a meal at a restaurant
44. Visited Africa
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight
46. Been transported in an ambulance
47. Had my portrait painted
48. Gone deep sea fishing
49. Seen the Sistine Chapel in person
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkeling
52. Kissed in the rain  Damn good kiss too! 
53. Played in the mud
54. Gone to a drive-in
55. Been in a movie  What sort of movie are we talkin’ ‘bout here?  Again, specifics please!
56. Visited the Great Wall of China
57. Started a business
58. Taken a martial arts class
59. Visited Russia
60. Served at a soup kitchen
61. Sold Girl Scout Cookies
62.Gone whale watching
63. Got flowers for no reason
64. Donated blood, platelets or plasma.
65. Gone sky diving
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp
67. Bounced a check/cheque
68. Flown in a helicopter
69. Saved a favorite childhood toy
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial
71. Eaten caviar  
72. Pieced a quilt  Shh…
73. Stood in Times Square
74. Toured the Everglades
75. Been fired from a job
76. Seen the Changing of the Guards in London
77. Broken a bone  Every bone in me right foot plus six more in other regions.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person
80. Published a book
81. Visited the Vatican
82. Bought a brand new car
83. Walked in Jerusalem
84. Had my picture in the newspaper  A very long time ago…
85. Read the entire Bible
86. Visited the White House
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
88. Had chickenpox
89. Saved someone’s life
90. Sat on a jury
91. Met someone famous
92. Joined a book club
93. Lost a loved one
94. Had a baby
95. Seen the Alamo in person
96. Swam in the Great Salt Lake
97. Been involved in a law suit
98. Owned a cell phone
99. Been stung by a bee
100. Ridden an elephant

I’m not going to pass it on, but anyone is more than welcome to have a go at it.  Have a grand Sunday all…

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This morning I had to go to the local home improvement supply store for about the hundredth time in the past month.  I picked up a few tubes of caulk, flirted with the paint lady, and talked amongst my new found friends.  Everyone loves you, when you consistently spend money at their place of business. 

Upon my return to the truck, a fierce wind arrived and a light pelting of rain splattered against the frigid tarmac.  I sped away and got on the six lane highway en route to my destination.  Just as I was about to turn off , a ‘67 Camaro came into my rippled view.

The hood was up and an older gentleman in denims and a glue and white flannel shirt was hovering over the engine.  I pulled over to the side of the road and walked over to offer any assistance.  Old cars are neat but are rarely reliable.

“Do you need any help, sir?”  I pleaded, as I pulled my jacket over my head.

“Batt’ry’s dead, u got any jump’ cables?”

“Sure, let me pull up to the side of your car”, I yelled as cars whizzed by without a thought.

I got out the jumper cables and we carefully hooked them up.  We stood there for a minute waiting for the battery to charge.  I asked him about the restoration of his car and he went on about restoring the motor.  I asked him to try and turn the motor over, so he proceeded to jump in the car and turn the key. 

As he turned the key, I moved to the side of the car to avoid being ran over.  You never know when an old car like that will jump out of gear.  The motor roared to life and he hopped out to help me collect me cables. 

I leaned over to help collect the mans tools, perhaps too far, and a black car came within inches of taking me out.  All I saw was a black blur whirring past my head.  The driver didn’t even bother to slow down.

The gentleman offered to pay me for the trouble, but I wouldn’t take it.  He followed by thanking me and we both sped away.

What has happened to the fabric of society worldwide.  People don’t give a rats arse about anyone except themselves anymore.  The common mentality these days is, “Me, Me, Me”.  What ever happened to “WE"”? 

Mind you, I am anything but perfect.  There are some people that I wouldn’t help, but even then, I’d offer to make a call for them. 

How was your Monday?

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I would greatly appreciate it if you all would do me a wee favour.  You see, I’m saving up for a new Lens for me camera.  Every time someone clicks on an add, I get a wee droplet of cashola in me account.  I’m not one to beg for anything, but please harmlessly click on one.  It won’t hurt, I promise. 

To show you folks that I am a gentleman, I’ll make you a promise.  From Monday ‘til the blogosphere falls off the economic precipice that we are all being pushed over, I’ll blog once a day excluding Sunday, of course.  I’m not sure what ‘ll blog about.  Perhaps how I’m sick of talking to wood floors and tile that don’t talk back until dark. 

The blog will be eccentric in nature just like its owner.  One day, I may write a wee poem.  Then next day, I may rant about latex paint.  You never know what you’ll find, when you click over the border to Davisville. 

P.S.:  Congrats to all that won and didn’t win at the IBA’s. 

P.P.S.:  For your musical entertainment on this grand Sunday, I present to you, Love Story by Taylor Swift.  Why her you ask?  Is it not obvious?   

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Nature will always triumph over mans lust for money and power.  We are a strange species, indeed.  The very premise that we would destroy our own habitat without giving thought to future generations is insane!

I’m not on about global warming, just your average eefit that doesn’t see anything wrong with pouring motor oil into a stream.  And, the arses that know better but just don’t care.  Yeah, I’m a tree hugger but not a hippy.  Although, I was raised by ‘em.

Fresh, tall and colourful, they arise,
Dominating an ancient horizon,
Merely forgettable monuments
To the modern virtues of this land

Speculation is abundant,
Yet even more sprout,
All scramble; transfixed,
By their raw splendour.

Finally the wild brents have returned,
Perhaps weary and spent by foreign toils,
But, easily caught in the superb daze,
Of such a noble narcosis.

Politicians, lobbyist; the masses too,
Race to appease an insatiable craving;
Strive to conceive, produce and build ever more,
For pretentious opulence is their life’s pursuit.

However, the last days draw nigh,
When the harsh winter will engulf all,
And the unforgiving world, will,
Eventually destroy the wee tulip.

At least until the next season of exuberance,
When the ridiculous game will be reborn,
And eagerly embraced with revitalised mirth,
By the infinitely wiser sons of fortunate fools.
-Jefferson Davis-

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