Jefferson Davis » Greenville

Redlight Antics

Jefferson Davis — Thu, 02 Jun 2011 01:32:32 +0000

A few days ago I entered a pact with K8 the Gr8. If one of us blogs, the other has to. It has worked out great and finally got me off my arse and got my fingers on the keyboard where they belong. I’m writing whatever comes to mind, ‘til I can sort out some short fiction that I’m working on.

This evening, I decided to go down to city centre to peruse the park and surroundings and hopefully get some pictures. I got more than I bargained for, but I like surprises. I was making my way through the exhaust fumes of the traffic, when out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse of a redhead that that I know standing on the corner when I was about to turn.

I rolled down the window, leaned out, and said, “Hey Red, come here”.

She looked over while jabbering something inaudible on her mobile. She came running over with those beaming green eyes and her infamous strawberry golden ringlets flailing in the summer zephyr.

“What are you doing down here?” I asked whilst observing the man in a BMW convertible, grinning from ear to ear.

“I’m down here to meet some girlfriends for dinner”, she said whilst leaning into the truck.

“Can I come along?” I asked while watching her look at herself in the side mirror.

The light is about to turn green by this point.

“No”, she exclaims.

“Get your cute butt in here and you can hang out with me ‘til they get here.”

She hopped in the other side and I looked over at the guy in the BMW. He shook his head, and yelled, “Man, I ain’t never seen a white boy pick up a chick like that. You sure you’re not part brother?”

“Hey, I’m everyone’s brother”, I said, as I laughingly pulled away.

She hung out with me while I took pictures and told me about every minute of everyday I had missed. She talks 24/7!

The girls showed up and they went off to play. I love her to bits, but my patience for her antics is finite these days. Actually, she and Scarlet from a previous post are a lot alike. That’s what scares me! What can I say, I have a genetic predisposition for redheads.

Shalom

Jefferson Davis — Thu, 21 Apr 2011 04:28:45 +0000

A few weeks ago, I decided to take a cruise down main street in the auld Beetle. I journeyed down main street giving people the peace sign in reply to their thumbs up. I parked at the end of South Main and made my way up the road towards bricked area of city centre. I spotted a man sitting on a bench that looked like he could use some company, so I enquired, “Pardon me, sir, would you mind if I sit for a spell?”

He nodded and I sat down beside him and bathed in the spring sunbeams. The man looked a little out of place amongst the myriad of striplings ambling up and down the pavement. He was a white headed bearded chap wearing dress slacks, a tweed sport coat, and gleaming Sunday shoes. There was a silver Star of David glistening on his left lapel.

The gentleman turned as if to enquire about something. “Was that you in that old Beetle that came past here a few minutes ago?”

“Yes, sir.” I answered with great delight, hoping to start a conversation.

“I had one back in the 50’s, when I lived in England”, he stated with an overwhelming smile.

“Was it a split window, Beetle?” I asked with excitement.

“Yes, it was a split window, Beetle. You must know your VW’s.”

“I’m surprised, sir, if you don’t mind me saying so. I didn’t figure that many Jewish people would have anything to do with a car made in Germany, at least back then.”

“Well, they were very economical at the time, and besides, we invented the things”, he answered with a mild smirk overtaking his countenance.

I smiled and said, They are still economical and very good cars, at least the older one’s are”.

I hesitated for a moment pondering whether to ask the question that I really wanted to ask. He was elderly and theoretically could have survived the holocaust.

“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking…”

“I know the question you are going to ask and the answer is, yes.”

“Were you in Germany at the time?”

He stroked his beard for a bit, and said, “I was 8 years-old, when my father lost his job at Heidelberg University. Well, he was kicked out by the Nazi’s. It was 1939 and Hitler and all of his cronies were mercilessly expelling Jews from Germany. My father had just enough money hidden away to move all of us to England. I lost a lot of friends and family during those horrific years. I think that everyone who really wants to know how insidious the Nazi’s were, should visit Aushwitz. It is one thing to read books or watch a documentary, but it is a whole other ball game to see it. How does the saying go? “”Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.”””

I almost put my hand up as if answering a question in class, and enunciated, “Edmund Burke is the original orator of that phrase, I think, but it has been rehashed so many times by so many people”.

“Ah right, an Irishman, I believe”, he said whilst stroking his beard and poking at some trash with his cane.

I scratched my head, and said, “I never have understood it, sir. I have a wee bit of German as well as Jewish blood running through my veins. I don’t guess…”

Laughingly, he enquired, “You, Jewish ancestors? I’d take you for being Irish or English.”

“I am mostly Irish, but my mothers, mothers, fathers, mothers, mothers, fathers, fathers, fathers, fathers, father came over from Israel a long time ago. His grandson, Michael Israel, started the first synagogue in North Carolina. He and his father, Solomon, fought in the Revolutionary War. Actually the Germans come in on the same side of the family. I am proud of all of my ancestors, for if it were not for them, I wouldn’t be here.”

The gentleman leaned back with arched frosty eyebrows and a smile. “You must be a historian, knowing all of that about your family?”

“No one in my family seems to care, so I have taken it upon myself to do the research and take the time needed to learn all that I can about all of my ancestors. Though, I do love history.”

“That’s very admirable of you, son. We need more people like you in the world”, he said whilst adjusting his hat.

“So, tell me more about yourself, sir”

With a great laugh, he responded, “That would take ages, and as you can see, I’m not getting any younger”.

“Where did you grow up in England?”

“We moved around a lot. My father worked in Reading and London. London was a great place to be in the 60’s, even for a Jew.”

“When did you move to the states?” I earnestly enquired.

“Well, I got a job with a great firm in New York, so we moved there in the early 70’s. My wife had family in Queens, so it wasn’t a hard choice. We moved to Upstate New York about 15 years ago to get away from the hustle and bustle of city life.”

“What brings you to the upstate of South Carolina, if you don’t mind me asking.”

“We came down for the wedding of a friends granddaughter, but we are also considering moving down here.”

“Ah, that’s grand.”

“Are you sure you’re not from the UK?” He asked with a mild grin.

“No, I just have some kind friends in Ireland and the UK. And, I’ve visited a few times.”

“Don’t let the world define you, you define the world.”

“Sir, if has been a pleasure meeting you, if you and your family need any assistance while in town, please give me a call”, I stated whilst giving him my card.

About that time, a crowd of ladies came out of the hotel that is situated directly in city centre. One of them was an elderly lady making her way towards us. He gathered up his belongings as the lady got closer.

“My name is Jefferson Davis, sir. You all have a safe trip”, I said.

The man turned back around, shook my hand, and said, “My name is Hiram, Hiram Israel.”

I stood there in shock with a half grin on my face as they walked towards the line of restaurants further up main street. It just proves that you never know who you are going to meet on the street. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he didn’t want to talk about the Holocaust, or Shoah. According to him, it’s been 72 years since he left Germany, but it still shakes him to the bone. I’m just a mere Gentile, but I will not ever forget what happened so many decades ago. There is no, nor will there ever be, any reason for killing so many people. The German people put their hopes and dreams in one man and one party. That was their ultimate downfall. Few people could predict in 1925 how power would turn Hitler and his cabinet into a bunch of malign despots.

That should be a lesson heeded by the young of today. Idolise no man. Aspire to accomplish what other men have accomplished, but never idolise another man for you will surely see him faulter and sink into an abyss of diffidence. Have faith in yourselves and God, if you so choose. Even Jesus says in John 10:34, “Ye are gods”.

Define the world, people. Make it a better place for us all to live in. Even the most finite ripples in a pond traverse its entire surface.

Chag Sameach Pesach

Group Rantings

Jefferson Davis — Thu, 12 Aug 2010 00:42:07 +0000

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.

Literal City

Jefferson Davis — Sun, 08 Aug 2010 02:34:26 +0000

I wrote this wee poem back in late 2008 when things were not so grand in the land of Davis. I found it today by accident while perusing one of my backup drives. It speaks for itself, I think.

I have watched a myriad
Of red and green lights reflect
In the cloudy rivers edge
When night has settled on this city.

I have trod around the broken green
And clear glass shards on the asphalt,
The flattened blue and silver beer cans
And licking smoke trails of spent ciggies.

I have heard the bellow of engines pass,
The screak of tyres as they brake,
The snares and drums of stereos
That blast from cars stopped at lights.

The smell of damp alley-ways,
From exhaust and discarded crisps
Half drowned in petrol runoff
Assault the air on nights like this.

I have felt the vacuum of empty streets
Between the buildings, wet and cold
With bits of dust and trash and rain
From construction cages on new buildings.

I have turned my back and walked away,
Peered down at the river from the bridge,
Seen amorphous ripple shivers there
And favoured them to the literal city.

Knee in Mouth

Jefferson Davis — Wed, 01 Jul 2009 01:50:00 +0000

The other night, Red and myself were in city centre observing the whacky towners. We sauntered down main street after leaving the Pub. A crowd of young women met us at the crosswalk. One of them caught my eye, as we crossed paths.

She was wearing a very tight jersey and an even tighter short leather skirt. It looked as though she had painted it on. In my stupidly half inebriated state, I said something that I would normally never ever say. I blame the ‘Merkan version of Guinness.

“Damn gurl, did you have to melt that thing on, or did it come attached to yer hips?”

She smiled and kept walking, her friends giggling in the background.

Next thing I knew, I was getting slapped in the back of the head. I don’t know what for. I was just genuinely concerned for the girls well being.

So, I pulled Red to the side at the bridge and whispered one of my best lines, as the setting sunrays made her ginger ringlets radiate like threads of gold.

She playfully started trying to knee me, where I didn’t need to be kneed. Accidently, she went a bit high with her playful game and I hit a higher note. I let on that it was worse than it was, so she and I hobbled back to me truck.

All is well now, thankfully.

I must have a target on my head that only women see!

Moral of rambling: Keep your big mouths shut, men.

A flash of broken Mirrors

Jefferson Davis — Sun, 21 Jun 2009 04:42:54 +0000

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.

Thanks Gramps

Jefferson Davis — Thu, 14 May 2009 03:05:42 +0000

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?

Return to Green 2009

Jefferson Davis — Sat, 07 Mar 2009 05:35:36 +0000

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.

No Return to Green (2)
Two Weeks Late (8)
Parade Shot (2)
Happy belated St. Patrick’s Day and Happy Birthday to Me (6)
Group Rantings (2)

Wintry Cerulean Moonbeams

Jefferson Davis — Mon, 02 Mar 2009 16:24:35 +0000

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?

Flirtatious Dufuss

Jefferson Davis — Mon, 19 Jan 2009 00:46:34 +0000

The past week overflowed with merriment. It all started on the previous Monday. I can’t explain it but life is grand. I’m finally over the bloody (literally) cold. The future is looking bright for once in a long while.

I’ve spent blisteringly cold evenings walking hand in hand with a lady that I can’t go into detail about at the moment. I don’t want to ruin it! I’m keeping my mouth shut. I’ve learned a lot about myself through this newfound friendship. Honesty and humility are good characteristics according to some women.

It all started with me being a blubbery nervous dufuss.

“Would kind so be to refill get me, please?”

She laughed and asked my name.

“Davis, Jefferson, S****.”

We both laughed and continued with me organising my thoughts properly.

Also, it snowed this morning for about an hour. I was out in it helping a guy install a satellite system.

That’s all for today. I am working on a dreamy post for tomorrow.

Steel Toed IT Crusade

Jefferson Davis — Fri, 02 Jan 2009 21:10:52 +0000

If the first day of 2009 was any indication of the rest of the year, it should be a blast. I woke up with one heck of a katzenjammer. I went to my grandmothers for our traditional New Year’s lunch. We had collards, black-eyed peas, ham, cornbread, chow chow, fatback, and enough Earl Grey to drown a pig.

After our extended lunch, I taught my Uncle how to take really good pictures with his new camera. I also tuned up his new laptop so that it would run more efficiently. We babbled for hours about all sorts of subjects.

Later that evening, I went to the store to pick up some essential ingredients for supper. As I made my way out the exit, I discovered a young man and woman arguing. I didn’t pay it any attention until the bloke started man handling his girlfriend. I told him that I’d stick my steel toed boot so far up his backside that he’d be spitting out lead for a week, if he pushed her again. (I have a very low tolerance for men hitting women.)

The guy looked me up and down then apologised to the girl. From what I understood, she hadn’t called him in a few days, so he came to her work and demanded to know why she was ignoring him. He let his emotions get out of hand. The manager came out and wanted to know what the heck was going on. The guy was banished from the property. I left victoriously but kind of felt bad for the guy, for I know what it is like to be blown off.

As soon as I arrived home, my cousin called and wanted me to come over and work on his computer. So, I grabbed my gear and headed to his house. We worked on the PC and talked about skirts (women) ‘til 1AM this morning. It was an interesting day!

Blurry Noggin

Jefferson Davis — Sun, 28 Dec 2008 05:24:51 +0000

Christmas was such a blur! Only wee bits of it remain in the whacky alternate cosmos that is my brain. The stupid bits remained, while the important one’s dissipated into an alcohol based egg nog.

It all started Christmas eve. I arrived at my grandmothers house fashionably late with presents in hand. As soon as I walked in the door, the Marylanders began berating me with wave after wave of comments and questions about Ireland.

Why aren’t you in Ireland? You chickened out, right? If I wanted to, I could do it, they’d say. What happen’ to the gurl you were dating last year? Are ya ‘tupid? How come ya can’t keep a woman more than a few months?

It was all in good craic. In my family, if the other family members constantly aggravate you, then they really..really like you. Crazy family!!!

“Fly like a butterfly, sting like a bee, here comes………..”, my father hollered whilst parading through the entrance like a superstar.

He set the presents down and handed my almost two year old sister off to sister number two. We shook hands and proceeded to grip like we’d never gripped before. Every single time we see each other, we go through this traditional handshake that is really like putting one’s hand in a vice. Whoever can hold out the longest without giving or breaking a knuckle, wins!

He won this time, but only because he cheated by twisting my knuckles in such a way that they stated to grand against each other. Yikes!

After bulling around with the Marylanders and wishing my grandmother a Merry Christmas, I headed to a friends house to watch a movie or two.

Before I knew it, we had watched two incredible 80’s movies and knocked back a bit too much egg nog. I went home and tried to catch some much needed shut eye.

At 2AM, I realised that I had not wrapped some presents. So, I stayed up the rest of the night wrapping presents and reinstalling windows on my desktop. Oh yes, I forgot to mention the hard drive failure, which caused me to lose a lot of files! We’re talking head to platter failure!

Christmas morning, I met my mother at my sisters house to give gifts to my nephew. I got quite a few of my own! I have never seen a lad so enamoured by a skateboard with lettering on it that only a hardcore skater can comprehend. My sister is mad about frogs, so I took one of my coveted shots of a bullfrog and put it in a frame for her. She was thrilled!

Later that day, we went to my other grandmothers for Christmas lunch. It’s always a grand occasion. It’s never as tense as Thanksgiving. Everyone ate way to much. My Uncle went on about his holiday in Florida. He showed off pictures that he had taken at sunset on the beach. My mother got irritated and demanded that my sister go get the picture that I took and framed for her. It was quite humorous.

Anyhew, I showed my uncle how to tweak his images in Photoshop. He was quite amazed at how I can make a picture pop with clarity and colour.

I ended the day on my hands and knees installing base and quarter round moulding around the perimeter of my kitchen. I put in the last bit of new wood flooring today. I believe that I’ve caught the remodeling bug. Kitchen counters and sink are next!

It’s a Bad thing

Jefferson Davis — Sat, 22 Nov 2008 04:37:14 +0000

Right, anger is not a good thing, no matter how many times Martha Stewart tries to say it is! It lurks in the dark and weak recesses of our souls awaiting the chance to erupt and cause destruction upon our lives.

You see, I don’t take losing easily. I’m not the type of guy to just give up and forget about his dreams. I’m a stubborn mule that won’t take NO for an answer. I’d climb every hill and eat granite to get to the summit. Never would I just turn around in shame and go home.

But, that is almost exactly what I did. The very fact that I gave up so easily has been driving me mad (not a very far drive. ). I should have never ever given up so easily. It is not in my character to be a quitter. When I was younger, I had to fight just to wake up every morning. Even in the last few years, I’ve had to fight the state for the right to drive a vehicle. And, I had to prove that I was competent enough to control me funds. They all wish they hadn’t messed with Jefferson Davis. Don’t even get me started on doctors!

I’ve been mad at myself for months for letting such an opportunity slip out of my hands.

Tuesday night, I was walking from the local shopping centre to my truck. A young man came running out from the darkness encircling a block of cars. He pleaded that I give him some money so that he and his girlfriend which was still at the petrol station could get some gas to get home.

At this point, I asked him which station. His eyes began to cross, as he pointed in a zig-zag motion. I asked him what her name was.

“Ma…Maa….Mary, yeah”, he slurred whilst pointing into the darkness.

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard this story, boy?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“No!”

At this moment, I was still moving towards my truck. I discovered two more young men hunched over behind a muddy and tattered Toyota Supra.

“I need the money”, he yelled whilst leaping towards me.

“They are going to rob you, you idiot”, I thought, as I reached for his collar.

He was no more that eighteen and slender like myself. So, I screamed for a guard that was on duty and threatened to beat him to death if he tried to get away. The two blokes lurking in the shadows ran off, leaving their friend behind.

“What in the hell did you and your pals think you were doing?” I demanded, as I shook him like a nut shaker shakes a pecan tree.

“They put me up to it”, he muttered, as the rent-a-cop made has way to us.

“What’z he dun?” The officer asked whilst relaying to the radio operator what was going on in the parking lot.

“Made a move to rob me”, I said whilst letting the kid out of my grip.

“Come on inside, I need you’z tah sign sum pap’r w’rk”, he mumbled, as he dragged the youngster through the entrance.

The security officer, with his belly hanging over the top of the desk, asked me what happened. As it turned out, the boy was only seventeen and had no prior convictions so he was released, but not before I had the chance to talk to him. I told him to stay out of trouble, but gave him one lifelong tip.

“Never ever mess with a white man with his head down, chances are he’s got more problems than you or just a nutter!”

“I’m ah…white man”, he said, as his eyes twitched.

“Do you want someone fecking with you, when you have your head down?”

“No!”

“Then why in the hell did you see fit to fuck with me”, I yelled while the rent-a-cop laughed.

He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. His father came in and apologised for any trouble. He said that he was a good student but was mixed up with a bad crowd like so many other young people.

I saw something within myself out there in the midst of the pallid street lights. There is part of me that loves the fight. I could chalk it up to my Cherokee ancestors. They did enjoy scalping their enemies.

Seriously, it is not good to let anger build up. Thankfully, I handled myself in a rational manner. I have not always been so refrained though. My short fuse must be gettin’ longer. That, or the kid got lucky.

Right! The three glasses of Chardy that I had with dinner are beckoning my attention!

Peace!!!

Don’t let anger build up in your soul. It’ll destroy the the loveliest part of you – your soul –, if you let it.

May the Schwartz be with you…

Hello All

Jefferson Davis — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 04:12:00 +0000

I hope everyone is doing grand. I’ll be back to blogging soon. Thank you all for your lovely comments in the past. I hope to post something worth your reading very soon.

Phoctober Reflections

Jefferson Davis — Sun, 02 Nov 2008 02:35:43 +0000

With all of the tomfoolery going on in the world, I reckon all of us could use some gorgeous shots to illuminate the imagination.

Photography is serene to me. No matter what is going on in my life, taking pictures makes it all fade away. Picturesque scenes and a vivid imagination is all that is left.

Catch Up

Jefferson Davis — Sun, 26 Oct 2008 02:59:56 +0000

I’ve been out of the loop for about two weeks. I feel like I’m at a party but not in the gossiping circle. Ah well, I’ll catch up over the next few days. I hope that all of you are doing grand. I’m much better thanks to meds and a peppy attitude.

This evening, I decided to go out on the town and celebrate. Celebrate what? Anything, really.

I had to make a quick stop at the store for a few bare essentials. While in queue with my two items, I caught a glimpse of the woman clerking behind the counter.

A brunette with tints of gold intermingling with a dark chestnut mane falling to her waist. Our eyes met, both blue, and a mutual smile overtook our faces. I chortled and she turned to ring up the person in front of me.

A few moments later, I stepped up to the plate. She smiled, I smiled and asked how she was doing. We talked and smiled like two blabbering idiots.

I kind of got lost in the bright lights and lost track of time. The bloke behind me cleared his throat and moved to another clerk.

“Three, ninety-nine”

“Really?” I enquired whilst smiling.

“Yes, really”, she responded whilst laughing.

I pulled out a wad of cash and flipped through the 100’s, 50’s, and 20’s to find a 5 dollar bill. She watched me intently, as I flipped through the money. She licked her lips and started making gestures that any idiot could pick up over the age of ten.

Whilst still grinning from ear to ear, I paid her in full.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” She asked whilst smiling and leaning over the counter.

“Nope, not at this particular second”, I replied, as I held up my bling bling Swiss watch. (I’m terrible, I know.)

“Here…Here, let me give you my number”, she said whilst looking around for a pen.

At that particular moment I noticed a wedding band on her ring finger.

With rosy cheeks and the cutest smile, she handed me the number.

“I’m afraid I can’t take this”, I muttered whilst handing it back to her.

“Why not?” She pleaded, as her smile transformed to a scowl.

“That ring on your finger.”

“Oh that….I’m gettin’ a divorce…he…he treated me like dirt”, she answered whilst fiddling with the plain gold wedding band.

“I’m proud of ya, but as much as I’d like to take you out, I can’t ‘til you at least get separated.”

“Why?”

“It’s called a gentleman’s code of honour.”

“Oh, I like you”, she yelled, as she leaned over within Eskimo kissing distance.

She stuffed her number down my coat pocket, and said, “You’re going to need this".

I looked around to discover an older gentleman behind me motioning and giving me a winking thumbs up.

Most men in these parts wink to show approval. I never have figured out why. It’s just one of those southern attributes, I reckon.

Anyhow, I said bye and left. I went downtown and ran into some old friends and had a blast. I could not get that chick out of my head though. Sometimes my code gets in the way.

Should I have asked her when she got off of work? Hmm….

Odds are I’d get busted and have a maniac husband chasing me around with a gun. That’s my father’s job. I play it cool.

I over analyse everything. I wondered while driving downtown whether it was the money, the bling bling, or just me that she liked. I’m trying to learn to live in the moment. It’s hard to do for a person who naturally observes the social intricacies of humanity. I’m workin’ on it though.

New pictures and post coming very soon.

Phoctober 10/10/08

Jefferson Davis — Fri, 10 Oct 2008 20:17:57 +0000

It is amazing how time flies. Thanks to Absolute Vanilla, I got involved in Phoctober last year. After posting photos almost the entire month of October and receiving a great response, my entire direction changed. I had always loved photography, but I hadn’t realised until that experience how much I truly loved transforming an ordinary shot into something else altogether. And, I realised how enrapturing the art of capturing a moment in time can be. It was a grand experience that changed my life.

So, I implore each of you to take part in this years Phoctober over at Moon Topples. It may change your life. If not, you’ll atleast come away from it with knowledge of other cultures and possibly new blogmatey’s.

For my first entry, albeit late, I give you Furman University. These shots were casually taken while walking around the pond and belltower.

More photos to come on the morrow.

CoffeeHouse Cara

Jefferson Davis — Sun, 05 Oct 2008 04:38:33 +0000

While sitting in the local coffeehouse this evening drinking a Guinness, I noticed a ravishing brunette at the table next to me. She was talking to a curly haired blonde across from her about our fair city, when I overheard her say that she was going to Co. Kerry, Ireland for the holidays with the family.

Immediately, I lit up like I always do on the rare occasion that I meet someone from Ireland or the UK.

“Pardon me, might I ask you a question?” I asked with a uniquely enthusiastic tone to my voice.

“Ah, go fer it, as long as it’s not to marry me, for I’m already taken, ye see”, she laughingly replied whilst showing off her ring.

“Are you from Ireland?" I asked, as I moved to the chair closest to them being careful not to spill my Guinness.

“I’m a Charleston girl, but my parents moved over from Ireland in the 50’s.”

“Really?”

“Yep, are you Irish yourself?” She enquired, while her friend went to the bar to order another drink.

“Ah no, my ancestors are from County Mayo and County Down”, I answered whilst sipping me beer.

“Well you could of fooled me”, she said with amazement.

“Ah well, I have friends in Ireland and I’ve been a few times”, I muttered whilst smiling.

“Your accent is something else boy. It’s like a cross of a Southern accent and a…ehm…Downpatrick accent”, she enounced, while waiting on her fresh glass of Harp to settle.

“Well, at least it is not a D4 accent”, I laughingly muttered.

Her friend sat curiously silent, while we laughed and went on about D4.

“So, what do you do for a living?”

“Nope, I want to know more about you”, she replied, whilst crossing her arms.

“Okay, I’m a photographer and a wee bit of a poet”, I replied whilst blushing.

“Are you now?”

“Indeed.”

“Well then, I see you’re not wearing a ring, but I’m reckonin’ that ye got a girlfriend, don’t ya?”

“Nope, I haven’t quite gotten over the last one.”

“Well what’s wrong with ya…are ya not good under the covers?” She whispered whilst giggling.

“I can assure you that isn’t the problem”, I muttered whilst spilling my stout.

“Can you now?”

(I laughed.) I love banter!

Perfect, I’ve got the perfect gurl for ya”, she said whilst turning to her friend whose cheeks and ears were glowing red.

“I’ve got to get some air”, her friend said, as she got up and walked away.

“Don’t mind her, she’s just bashful.”

“Back to my first question then, what do you do for a living?”

“I teach youngsters how to play the fiddle, along with playing it, of course”, she kindly answered with enthusiastic charm.

“Brilliant, I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the fiddle. I can play the harmonica and the dulcimer”, I hollered, as my eyes ignited with delight.

“Dulcimer, really?”

“Yep, my grandmother taught me when I was a lad, although I’ve not played in years.”

“Ah the Dulcimer is a delightful instrument born in Appalachia…Tis sad that so few people know how to play it these days”, she said, as we raised our almost empty glasses to it.

“So, where is your family from in Ireland?”

“Yer not marrying me, you’re marryin’ ‘er”, she drunkenly hollered motioning for her friend and winking at me.

Her friend stomped off to the restroom and we chatted for another hour about Ireland, family, and what not. Her friend got so drunk that she finally didn’t care what was said. I went on about my family, plans, and future trips. She told me to come to Charleston, for I would have better chances there. I frequent that coffee shop quite a bit, but it was the first time that the craic was flowing as well as the beer.

Will Return

Jefferson Davis — Thu, 25 Sep 2008 03:15:58 +0000

I hope that each of you are doing grand. I am doing grand. I have been extremely busy of late, as I am sure all of you have been. At my new job (working for me self), I get up at 5AM and am usually finished with work by 2 or 3PM. There is a lot of manual labour involved but it is very entertaining. Yesterday we raked, seeded, and strawed a long bank. Today, we laid paving stones and built a retaining wall.

I’ve done more work in the last week and a half than I’ve done in the last three months. Almost every muscle in my body aches and my palms look like sandpaper. The good thing about so much hard work is that I’m starting to resemble the Hulk (okay…not really). I don’t reckon a short fuse and a lot of TNT would be a good combination?!

Anyway, I just wanted to say hi and tell you all that I’ll be back as soon as I can. tomorrow is kudzu thrashing day, so I must rest me bones.

Best

Accidental Landsc-r-aper

Jefferson Davis — Fri, 19 Sep 2008 04:23:28 +0000

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing a bit of yard work and styling of hedges for family and friends. It started out as a way to bring in some extra greenbacks. At first, I had a few customers I’d do every ten days. Through word of mouth my workload has tripled in the last week. So, the infamous Dr. Don has joined the ranks. I get to do a few of my favourite things while being outdoors. I get to help people that can’t physically do the work, artistically style the lots, hedges, and other flora.

In the fall, we will rake leaves, plant bulbs for spring, and build new flower beds for those that can afford it. Actually, it is profitable business as long as I keep a good rapport with the customer base. People seem to trust me from the start; in fact, I’ve been told that I have a face that can be relied upon. I wonder why?

The grand thing about this gig is that I’ll have more time for photography and writing. We are in the process of setting up a calendar with folks, so that we can be off by five and have the weekends for play. By February, I should have enough cashola to shoot off to Ireland for a month or so.

On another note, I’ve been reading a lot and having weird dreams about Albert Einstein and Lise Meitner. Of course, I am reading E=mc2, by David Bodanis. Tis a fascinating book!

Jefferson Davis » Greenville

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