Tag Archives: jefferson

Then and Now

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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…

verdure

Literal City

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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. 

Reflecting Footpath

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.

Daring Moonbeams

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I lay in a deep slumber after a week of travelling and an arduous workload. 

buzz….Ring….buzz…Ring….Ring

I awake to a fuzzy and out of focus bedroom with moonlight still filtering through the curtains.  An eerie tune pierces my subconscious, as I glance over to find my mobile vibrating across the bedside table.  I go to grab it but my arms are not quite obeying my brain yet.  Finally, I make more effort and am able to grab it.  I gaze, vision still blurry, at the caller id and lay in shock for a moment.

It can’t be.  What’s she doing calling me after all of this time?

In disbelief, I answer the incoming call.

“Hello”, I mumble in disbelief.

“Hello stranger”, a quirky feminine voice says.

“What time is it?”  I demand while wiping sleepiness from my eyes.

“It’s time for you quit dreaming and talk to me.  It’s 9A.M. and brilliant out.”  She states in a chipper tone.

“Aaarrgghh….That means it is 4A.M. here”, I exclaim while trying to get my bearings.

“Early to bed, early to rise, right?”

“Auld Ben would be proud to know that his proverbs are still being reverberated around the globe”, I mutter whilst primping.

“I would hope so, yes.”

“I’m very glad to hear from you, but it’s early so what are you after?”

The silence and lulling buzz of thousands of miles of wires is deafening.

Don’t screw this up JD.  She called for something. 

“I’m sorry.  It’s just early and you know how I am before dawn”, I utter in an apologetic fashion hoping to hear her beauteous vocalisations again.

“I called because….”  Her voice broke while trying to tell me why she was calling.

“It’s alright.  You can tell me.”

“I…..   I had a dream about you last night.  I dreamt that I was walking alone in a moony ancient misty woodland.  instinctively, I walked between two rows of old oak trees.  I searched through the hauntingly thick fog to no avail.  I could only see the naked limbs of the trees stretching out and almost touching one another above my head.  I peered through the bare branches to discover a clear yet starless night sky.  Only a lone and focused moonbeam lit the path ahead of me….”

“Oh, this is getting good…”  Says i with a wee bit of a humorous tone.

“Don’t interrupt.  Anyway, as I was saying, I was following this moonbeam through an ancient woodland when a silhouette came into focus.  I couldn’t tell who it was but I felt that I had to reach that person, so I walked faster being guided by the brilliant moonlight.  The light stopped and shone on the person at the end of the forest.  Suddenly I realised that it was you standing at a fork in the path spreading out in four directions.  You motioned for me to come closer.  My heart was racing, as I jumped into your warm embrace.  You grabbed my hand and a brilliant white light flooded the dark forest with rays of a warm summers day.  In an instance, we were standing atop a mountain overlooking a valley covered in wildflowers….”

“Wow”, I yell in awe of her incredible story.

“Almost finished so zip it.  Anyhow, we ran through the wildflowers hand in hand laughing and….”

“What else did we do?”

“You took me to a clearing in the tall wildflowers where a cloth had been laid and food was waiting.  We talked and laid there for hours and you promised to never leave me.  We fell asleep in each others arms.  I awoke to find myself back in the misty woodland.  I searched and cried your name in that lonesome place for what seemed for an eternity.  I woke up this morning screaming your name.”  She cried, whilst trying to hold back her emotions.

“I bet yer husband didn’t like that?”  I laughingly enquire.

“We…We are separated.   I couldn’t care less what that gobshite thinks.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, I tried to make it work but we got married for all of the wrong reasons”, she answers, as her tears rush through the phone weakening my knees.

“I’m sorry.  I know….”

“Dammit, it’s yer fault”, she exclaims whilst squalling.

“How is it my fault”, I demand in a serious tone.

“Because…Because, I still love you, Jefferson Day-vees.”

A great chill ran down my spine as a lone tear ran down my sleepy countenance.  I had waited so long to hear those words from her. 

“I have never stopped loving you, my dear”, Says I, as a warm surge of life leapt back into my body. 

“Well then, come and see me, and let us see how it goes.  I can’t the weight of being without you any longer.”  She pleads whilst breaking down over the phone.

“I’ll be on the next plane out, so I should be there by tomorrow morning”, Says Iin a hurried manner.

“Call me back as soon as you get an arrival time and gate number.  I’ll be there to pick you up.  I love you.”

“I love you too.  I’ll see you soon.”

The next thing I knew, I was packed and on a plane crossing the Atlantic.  As the plane approached and crossed over the familiar rolling green hills, I couldn’t help but smile, knowing that she’d be in my arms in just under an hour.  While looking out at the cloudless horizon, which was rare for this area around this time of year, I discovered a bright orb approaching our position at an incredible speed.  It was flying towards the very window overlooking the left wing that I was facing. 

Suddenly, I was blinded by the incredible radiance emanating from the orb. 

I jumped from my seat screaming her name and realised seconds later that I was back in my bedroom alone.  It took several minutes of head scratching to realise that the entire episode was just a mere dream and that I was back in the real world. 

Exhausted and in disarray from such an eerie dream, I slowly looked out the window to see a bright and tepid Saturday morning.  So, I got ready and went for a walk in the sunshine to clear my head.

Sometimes I wonder why we have such whacky dreams.  Mind you, I had to fill in a few gaps where the woolgathering memory lapses.  I’ve never been able to understand why I and others can remember our dreams and others can’t recall anything from a dream.  I think our dreams are an effort of our subconscious  enacting what we truly want.  Some may dream of flying into space, while others may dream of changing something in their lives or hearing words they’ve wanted to hear but know they’ll never hear. 

Dreamland is a mysterious place to visit but not a place to stay.  :)

Davis’

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Tuesday evening, I decided to go up to my grandfathers house up in the mountains.  I hadn’t been up there since he died back in 1998.  I honestly didn’t think I could find the place, but I went anyway for the adventure and brief jaunt down memory lane.

I remember that it was 117 fence post to the south to the church and 95 fence post to the north to a girls house that I had a crush on for years.  Gramps and myself would set out around sunset and watch the cows and horses graze on the lush lucerne and fescue covering the mountainside.  I learned a lot about life from observing those animals.  Grandpa Davis wasn’t a talker, he was a doer. 

He walked softly and carried a big stick.  I never saw the man get angry except for maybe one or two times in the 26 years I knew him.  His hair was as white as the cotton he picked as a child, and he was as tall and slender as the cotton mill smoke stacks that he worked in most of his adult life.  He was the very essence of the phrase, Facta Non Verba. 

Everyone knew and loved him far and wide.  He retired not long after I was born.  The earliest memory I have is of him almost getting mauled by my dog, a huge German shepherd named Zack.  I was five or six and he was playfully chasing me around on Christmas morning.  He started tickling me, I started screaming and laughing, and gramps almost lost his arm due to a very overly protective dog.  Grandpa and the Zack didn’t get along well after that. 

Anyhow, let’s go back to Tuesday evening, shall we?

I turned onto the street that he lived as the sun filtered through the coloured leaves setting atop a vast hillside that runs along with the curvature of the road.  I was shocked at how so little had changed, as I pulled up the gravel driveway.  The enormous oak tree in the front yard that gramps planted, when he and my granny moved in the house over fifty years ago, had grown a little but not much with the passage of time.  The roses and hedges looked almost the same.

I was shocked yet again, when I finally arrived at the back of the house.  There were people and cars parked in his driveway.  As it turns out, the house is rented to some folks.  I called me pops to verify that it was indeed being rented.  I don’t have a problem with him renting it, I just thought it had been empty for a bit.  Anyway, I turned around and continued down the long country road.

A few minutes later my mother called, so I had to pull into a strangers driveway, a long and narrow drive.  After I hung up with her, I tried to do a three point turn but the road was too narrow.  Pulling onto someone’s land up in the mountains is a very dangerous proposition.  Mountain folk don’t like strangers.

I ended up having to drive all the way down the road that ended at an log cabin.  There were cars parked in the garage, so I turned around.  Pops called me back and I told him I’d call back due to my whereabouts.  He told me to just say that I’m a Davis and they’d leave me alone.  I didn’t believe that for a moment.

Just as I was about to pull off, an auld grey haired fella in overalls and what looked like a twenty year-old baseball cap came running out with a shotgun demanding, “What are ye doin’ ‘ere boy”? 

I nervously rolled down the drivers side window, put my hands out, and answered, “I’m just turning around, sir”.

“Ye ain’t got no business ‘ere boy.”  He exclaimed, as he walked closer to the truck.

The sweet smell of freshly baked apple pie passed my nostrils, as his wife, still wearing a cooking apron, peered through the screen door.

“I’m sorry sir, I just got lost…I was down the road visiting my grandfathers old place”, I mumbled, as the man approached with his gun by his side.

“….Now don’t let me catch ya back down ‘ere…aga…Who was yer grandpa?”

“D*** Davis, sir.”

“Yer L**** Davis’ boy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well I declare, Ester, get out ‘ere.  This is D*** Davis’ grandson.”, he hollered as the lady of the house came running out.

She stopped dead in her tracks, when I stepped out of the truck. 

“Dear Jesus, you look just like yer dad, she yelled as the auld fella patted me on the back. 

They told me stories about my dad and grandad, and ironically about myself, when I was knee high to a grasshopper.  All in all, it was a good visit down memory lane. 

Moral of story:

Sometimes trips down memory lane can be a bit dangerous yet entertaining and informative at the same time.  :)

Video is “Have you ever seen the rain?", by CCR.  It doesn’t fit, but it was playing on the radio when I met Mr. Shotgun.  :)

To Blog?

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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.

Furman University Clocktower HDR

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!   :)