Joy Leftow's Blog, page 26
September 21, 2011
Misunderstandings
Nurtured with contempt instead of acceptance I came to understand that contempt was what I deserved. A world filled with maladjusted tendencies, constrained to a room, one of many to come. Three beds stood in our one bedroom with two side-by-side windows with deep sills that faced a wide open schoolyard that ran the entire width of our square city block.
Six of us lived in a one bedroom walk up gratefully situated on the first floor of five story red brick building with two graceful entrances surrounded by well tended shrubbery here was a double bed plus two singles side by side against the wall, facing outwards so that your feet directly the faced the couple in the double bed occupied by my eldest sister, Georgette, and my mother.
My bed was closest the window and Harriet's bed was pushed alongside mine, the heads pushed against the wall. There was only a few feet of space left to walk between the four beds. I spent a lot of time in bed. That was where I did my homework, read for hours and dreamed away the hours.
My favorite part of weekends and mostly all I looked forward to was the ability to stay late in bed gazing at the sky. If my sisters came in or my mother I would climb on the window sill behind the curtain where they could not watch me and I could imagine I was alone with my dreams of clouds constructing lives of gods and goddesses while I instructed them on how to play nice with one another to have a good time.
I never did fit it with anybody, especially in first through third grades. Children made fun of me. A girl name Ruth told me she and her friend were going to get dressed up and have a lollipop party and everyone was invited. Did I want to go? I looked in Ruth's face feeling suspicious of their niceness I felt trapped but didn't know why. I nodded yes. "Sucker," they yelled gleefully laughing hysterically, whilst staring into each other's eyes, they danced away arm in arm. I stared after them.
Six of us lived in a one bedroom walk up gratefully situated on the first floor of five story red brick building with two graceful entrances surrounded by well tended shrubbery here was a double bed plus two singles side by side against the wall, facing outwards so that your feet directly the faced the couple in the double bed occupied by my eldest sister, Georgette, and my mother.
My bed was closest the window and Harriet's bed was pushed alongside mine, the heads pushed against the wall. There was only a few feet of space left to walk between the four beds. I spent a lot of time in bed. That was where I did my homework, read for hours and dreamed away the hours.
My favorite part of weekends and mostly all I looked forward to was the ability to stay late in bed gazing at the sky. If my sisters came in or my mother I would climb on the window sill behind the curtain where they could not watch me and I could imagine I was alone with my dreams of clouds constructing lives of gods and goddesses while I instructed them on how to play nice with one another to have a good time.
I never did fit it with anybody, especially in first through third grades. Children made fun of me. A girl name Ruth told me she and her friend were going to get dressed up and have a lollipop party and everyone was invited. Did I want to go? I looked in Ruth's face feeling suspicious of their niceness I felt trapped but didn't know why. I nodded yes. "Sucker," they yelled gleefully laughing hysterically, whilst staring into each other's eyes, they danced away arm in arm. I stared after them.
September 15, 2011
I sing misty blue for you today
Misty blue just for you today Daddy
Sing misty for you every day
Waiting to hear you say
You're coming on home today
My life's on hold – my mind strays
I see you in my mind's eye drinking that Bombay Gin
Sitting alone in a Starbuck's café
Knowing life plays me like a Violin
But I can't stop wondering and hoping
That there's a better way
Please tell me you'll always love me Daddy
The way you know that I love you
The way you know that I love you
Please please come on home to stay
My soul has turned misty like the
weather before the storm
While it keeps playing the same old song
Play it in reverse today and tomorrow
Let me coerce you to come on home
Let your worries disperse
Things can't get much worse
So come on home baby
We're going to jam the night away
and play new music all night long
till the dawn lights up the sky
Daddy
September 10, 2011
The weather of my insight has changed.
The days grow shorter
sun up to sun down yet they feel longer. I toss nightly sleeplessly awakened by
the pitter patter of rain on my A.C. Relentlessly the same way every day like the A.C.
upstairs at the Medina's drips down on top of mine. The storms won't
abate. Although the wind is gone a steady rain remains like the leak in my
heart. I'm bleeding out and can't say when. Only it's not blood, it's the
leaking of love and spinal fluids and I can't hold them back. I know it's going
to rain again today.
I look out window. Quiet yet in spite of the quiet the rain
falls like a silent cellophane sheet blanketing my world. Consumed by tireless
passion I consider my options on how to avoid contact with the world. As though
hearing my thoughts a breeze awakens outside my window whispering to me about
the loss of his mother rainbow warrior. I console us and entreat him to try
again. He foreswears off the grain alcohol and thunder and moonshine light up
the sky.
The wind is my friend. He whispers words only I hear so I
listen again to see if I fear the answer.
My thoughts and the wind have moved on. I hear a car barking down the
street. The sound of the city whistles and my ears ring.
The pain in the crook of my arm keeps me alive. I google 'pain in crook of arm' to see what I can
find. It's described as some weird tendonitis. Ice as usual oh my. Shouldn't I
know that already?
I google group venus astrology. My astrology tells me "Avoid pessimism and don' t retreat into
yourself. You must expand psychologically and seek new experiences."
Story of my life…
Onwards to new adventures!
What am I waiting for…
September 8, 2011
The Only One
I thought about you and watched videos of us inside of me. I sat and cried for what I thought we'd had but slowly over the next year I realized our life was recreated from a fantasy of what I desired from you. In my mind the dream I'd created of who you are became real. Slowly over time you proved to me again and again that the dream was a fantasy. Being subjected to your unrelenting anger and sarcasm was nothing new. What became new was that I now saw the things you did for what they are. Proved that I never possessed the dream I desired. You proved that I only see things the way I want to see them. I went back in time in my mind rearranging the pieces of our lives. I had never wanted to see you for who you are so I created the man I hoped to find. Picking through the events in time now I see I saw you, as I wanted you to be. You were always the way I see you now but I refused to see who you were. To survive I lived a fantasy.
Living in dreams enriches my life but there is the comedown when I realize it's only a dream, a rich fantasy about how I want things to be but not the way they really are. Everyone I see is colored through whatever lens I am wearing that day. I live in bright-distorted colors of varying shades. Blue is rarely true blue and it is in my nature to stay true to myself. I am fickle. I change colors.
My sad is midnight blue yet I keep trying to see stars peeking through. Green seeps through me helping me keep in touch with nature yet I'm streaked with red where I've been led astray by envy or anger. My lust puts a golden dust on the dawn. It's all I see when I'm in love, like being trapped in a lovely crystal ball with gold dust all around. It ends with releasing blood ties at season's end; the red turns shades of yellow and orange, where I struggle with my faith in mankind. I'm ready to begin again. My color is aqua. I become a shade of royal plum. Like the Aegean Sea I float in the arms of eternity searching for the right you to understand me. After the gold dust settles pastels show me like a misty savior heading towards threatening seas to rescue them from the dark. Colors shift from dawn to dusk inside of me as I rearrange my life accordingly with a party cake pink; a perpetual continuity lives inside of me as I struggle with the colors. They consume me. I realize I'm not the only one who can't escape so I pray for us all instead.
I recycle the stories in my head and see they are all the same. The names change but the stories remain the same. After some time telling stories, the men run into each other knocking each other down because they don't watch where they're running. After a few stories I realize it doesn't matter who did what. It's like any one of them could have been in any of my stories doing the same things the other one did. The faces and names become interchangeable. They blur together and become one. For God's sake it's the same old stories with new and different faces.
September 5, 2011
LIFE JUST GOT BETTER
It's ok I said, I been there tooI understand where you're coming fromJust show me the dotted line and I'll tell you right nowI'm ready to sign on that dotted lineI promise I'll make no demandsNo alimony no child supportMy life's worth more than alimony
or support could ever payI knew when he pulled the hammer back the surprise on his face was realwe registered eye to eyeThen the bullet never emerged from the chamber My life had been handed to me on a silver platter that day
I understand but for the mercy of God
I'll only be broke not deadno succumbing to a bullet for me that day Instead I said just show me that dotted line
I know when it's time to give in and signBecause I know I won't get nothing out of you
except a hard way to goYou never were one for sharing
so I'm glad to let you know
I'm glad to see you go anywayI want you to know I'm glad you know
I don't need you to have my ownI had my own before you were born
no please don't interrupt
you misunderstand meGo with your government job and all your big benefitsIt's ok if you refuse to share with me I swear I don't care
I'll sign it all away today as long as you let me go my own wayI'll sign that dotted line I swear I willI'm not giving in yet –
please don't leave my son a motherless child You misunderstand me
give me a pen I'm willing ready and able to bend
I'll sign on that dotted lineI absolve you from all your future debts to meJust please let me go by the grace of God Thank God I'm not dead
Here I go I got a pen in my hand
I'm ready to sign on the dotted lineI read the surprise in the line of your mouthwhen you cocked the hammer pulled the trigger back with your index finger
while you stared me dead in the eyeno remorse for what you planned to doAn eye for an eye you quoted so bang you're dead
gone in the wink of an eye and you winked at me
we thought it was for one last time certainly for me I thought this is the last wink I'll ever see You pulled the trigger in the blink of an eyeA gleeful smile on your no mercy for the bitch faceYour expectations reduced in a quick New York minuteWhen you realized no bullet had emerged the chamber no bullet came clambering through the barrel
no bullet went through me and
by the mercy of God I stand here before theeSo let me be me and I'll allow you to be free of meFree from all my demands you could no longer
stand that made you be so cruel to meNow I'm ready to sign on the dotted line
as long as you'll allow me to stay aliveYes I'm ready to sing there's a song in my heart
because I'm alive
Yes I'm ready to sing Glory Hallelujah I'm alive money ain't mean nothing to me I'll give it all up to stay alive I got a song in my heart I'm so glad to be alive
August 23, 2011
Infidels
Disappointed in man's inhumanity to man, I live each day like it's my last Time moving so fastEverywhere I turn, someone new is hurt.Living on the edge of despair striving to stay afloat and hold on to my hope. It's all I've got left. I bide my time and wait behind closed curtains in love with a perfect life gorging on dreams of a different world where everyone's my brother.I turn on the news in time to hear the brother speak,the one who killed his brother's wife last week,He says she was just no damn good anyway. He knew for sure because she used to be his wife. She disappeared around the same time he was convicted of killing her. He said, "I already served my time for killing her,you see it's called double jeopardy and they can't charge me twice for the same crime. Thank God I got rid of the no good bitch once and for all She can't do this to no one else no more."The scene switches to the crazy Jewish guy in the orange jumper the one who tortured the little Jewish boy then dismembered him. They caught him abducting the boy on one of those street cameras It's enough of a dose of TV to last several days. I try to decide what I can do about man's inhumanity to man I bring it all home. The buck has to stop somewhere.I examine my life in a whirlwind of thoughts to discover I'm trapped in a medieval prison where I'm tormented the same way every day and still can't learn how to escape. Man's inhumanity to man makes me suffer.I envision a day it will be different.Julio examines my planet's positions. He declares that now I'm full of romanticism. I told him that no he's wrong that now I obsess on man's inhumanity to man. African and east European towns there are wars and bombs in the middles east. Women raped daily, life disrespected as a matter or course. I don't know what to do. Where has my romanticism fled.Searching my mind for a better place in time I reassess the layout. A perfect place is hard to find. It won't matter where I go so I decide to sit this one out and work on creating a better space inside myself.I go inside and look around to find a better place and instead sitHere today and gone tomorrow
I sit and cry and pray every day for a better world someday.
August 22, 2011
20 Essential Chinese Novels Plus Other tidbits
20 Essential Chinese Novels | Bachelor's Degree Online
These are worth a look with a contemporary and classical mix.
One of my personal favorites not listed here is the Buddhist Tale of Monkey King with drawings and text.
Below is an abbreviated story line to the famous work, "Monkey King", known to the Chinese as "Journey to West",written by Wu Ch'eng-en (1500?-1582), a scholarly-official, is one of the renowned classical Chinese story about an allegorical rendition of the journey, mingled with Chinese fables, fairy tables, legends, superstitions mixed with popular beliefs, and includes stories about the Taoist and Buddhist religions. It was based on a true story of a famous Chinese monk, Xuan Zang (602-664). After years of trials and tribulations, he traveled on foot to what is today India, the birthplace of Buddhism, to seek for the Sutra, the Buddhist holy book. When he returned to China or the Great Tang as was called that time, he began to translate the sutras into Chinese, thus making a great contribution to the development of Buddhism in China. Monkey King is an indeed rebellious extraordinary being, born out of a rock and fertilized by the grace of Heaven. A being extremely smart and capable, he learns all the magic tricks and gongfu from a master Taoist and is able to transform himself into seventy-two different images such as a tree, a bird, a beast of prey or a bug as small as a mosquito to enable him to sneak into an enemy's belly to fight him inside or out. Using clouds as a vehicle he can travel 180,000 miles in a single somersault and he wields a huge iron bar that serves as ballast of the seas and can expand or shrink at his command. This becomes his favorite weapon in his later battles. He claims to be the king in defiance of the only authority over heaven, the seas, the earth and the subterranean world -- Yu Huang Da Di, or the "Great Emperor of Jade" in Chinese. To declare himself as emperor is an act of high treason, coupled with complaints from the masters of the four seas and the hell, he invites the relentless scourge of the Heavenly army.
After many showdowns,the emperor offers the monkey an official title to appease him. Enraged he revolts, fighting his way back earth to resume his claim of his own kingdom after learning that the position he held was nothing but that a stable keeper. Eventually, the heavenly army subdues him after many battles and with the help of all the god warriors.
Having a bronze head and iron shoulders, all methods of execution fail and the monkey man dulls all swords used upon him. As a last resort, the emperor commands that monkey king be burned in the furnace where his Taoist minister Tai Shang Lao Jun refines his pills of immortality. Instead of killing him, the fire and smoke add fiery golden crystal eyes that can see through what people normally can not. He frees himself and fought his way down again. Finally, with Buddha's help the monkey was suppressed under a great mountain known as the Mount of Five Fingers and could no longer move. Five hundred years later, ,the Tang Monk, Xuan Zang, came to his rescuer.
The Monkey King became the disciple of the monk and escorst him to insure that he could bring the sutras to the west. He travels with two other disciples, actually also arranged by the Buddha. Here begins the four's stormy journey west which is packed with actions and adventures that brought into full play the puissance of the monks' disciples, the Monkey King in particular.
The story of Journey to the West is divided into three parts: (1) an early history of the Monkey spirit; (2) pseudo-historical account of Tripitaka's family and life before his trip to fetch the sutras in the Western Heaven; (3)the main story, consisting of 81 dangers and calamities encountered by Tripitaka and his three animal spirit disciples - Monkey, Pigsy, and Sandy. The average readers are fascinated with the Monkey King, all prowess and wisdom, while many critics agree that the protagonist embodies what the author tried to convey to his readers: a rebellious spirit against the then untouchable feudal rulers. This story has the appeal of the ages with its moral thrust and pictures.
Adapted from HaiWang Yuan, Western Kentucky University
On another note keeping in the Chinese vein, yesterday I visited Chuang Yen Monastery in Carmel NY where after some meditation I received the gift of books and shared lunch with the monks. Here are some photos.
Below are people giving the service to keep up the grounds.
They call this the temple of a thousand Buddhas for a reason - you think?
These are worth a look with a contemporary and classical mix.
One of my personal favorites not listed here is the Buddhist Tale of Monkey King with drawings and text.
Below is an abbreviated story line to the famous work, "Monkey King", known to the Chinese as "Journey to West",written by Wu Ch'eng-en (1500?-1582), a scholarly-official, is one of the renowned classical Chinese story about an allegorical rendition of the journey, mingled with Chinese fables, fairy tables, legends, superstitions mixed with popular beliefs, and includes stories about the Taoist and Buddhist religions. It was based on a true story of a famous Chinese monk, Xuan Zang (602-664). After years of trials and tribulations, he traveled on foot to what is today India, the birthplace of Buddhism, to seek for the Sutra, the Buddhist holy book. When he returned to China or the Great Tang as was called that time, he began to translate the sutras into Chinese, thus making a great contribution to the development of Buddhism in China. Monkey King is an indeed rebellious extraordinary being, born out of a rock and fertilized by the grace of Heaven. A being extremely smart and capable, he learns all the magic tricks and gongfu from a master Taoist and is able to transform himself into seventy-two different images such as a tree, a bird, a beast of prey or a bug as small as a mosquito to enable him to sneak into an enemy's belly to fight him inside or out. Using clouds as a vehicle he can travel 180,000 miles in a single somersault and he wields a huge iron bar that serves as ballast of the seas and can expand or shrink at his command. This becomes his favorite weapon in his later battles. He claims to be the king in defiance of the only authority over heaven, the seas, the earth and the subterranean world -- Yu Huang Da Di, or the "Great Emperor of Jade" in Chinese. To declare himself as emperor is an act of high treason, coupled with complaints from the masters of the four seas and the hell, he invites the relentless scourge of the Heavenly army.
After many showdowns,the emperor offers the monkey an official title to appease him. Enraged he revolts, fighting his way back earth to resume his claim of his own kingdom after learning that the position he held was nothing but that a stable keeper. Eventually, the heavenly army subdues him after many battles and with the help of all the god warriors.
Having a bronze head and iron shoulders, all methods of execution fail and the monkey man dulls all swords used upon him. As a last resort, the emperor commands that monkey king be burned in the furnace where his Taoist minister Tai Shang Lao Jun refines his pills of immortality. Instead of killing him, the fire and smoke add fiery golden crystal eyes that can see through what people normally can not. He frees himself and fought his way down again. Finally, with Buddha's help the monkey was suppressed under a great mountain known as the Mount of Five Fingers and could no longer move. Five hundred years later, ,the Tang Monk, Xuan Zang, came to his rescuer.
The Monkey King became the disciple of the monk and escorst him to insure that he could bring the sutras to the west. He travels with two other disciples, actually also arranged by the Buddha. Here begins the four's stormy journey west which is packed with actions and adventures that brought into full play the puissance of the monks' disciples, the Monkey King in particular.
The story of Journey to the West is divided into three parts: (1) an early history of the Monkey spirit; (2) pseudo-historical account of Tripitaka's family and life before his trip to fetch the sutras in the Western Heaven; (3)the main story, consisting of 81 dangers and calamities encountered by Tripitaka and his three animal spirit disciples - Monkey, Pigsy, and Sandy. The average readers are fascinated with the Monkey King, all prowess and wisdom, while many critics agree that the protagonist embodies what the author tried to convey to his readers: a rebellious spirit against the then untouchable feudal rulers. This story has the appeal of the ages with its moral thrust and pictures.
Adapted from HaiWang Yuan, Western Kentucky University
On another note keeping in the Chinese vein, yesterday I visited Chuang Yen Monastery in Carmel NY where after some meditation I received the gift of books and shared lunch with the monks. Here are some photos.
Below are people giving the service to keep up the grounds. 
They call this the temple of a thousand Buddhas for a reason - you think? 
July 29, 2011
Bracelet Four - A Renaissance
Bracelet Four - A Renaissance
Walking down Bleeker towards McDougal Street in a cold rain on February 14th I kept my head down and my eyes trained on the street we were about to cross. Traffic was moving at a crawl pace because it was Valentines Day and an early Saturday evening when the Village would be normally crowded.
There were less people around than usual but that didn't make me sad. What did make me sad was my boyfriend who said he was quote, taking me down here to have a good time but first he wanted to buy me a present of something I liked.
"What?" I said surprised. Sandy didn't usually take the initiative unless there was good music involved which I had nothing against either.
On a roll he continued, "I figured we'd make a night of it. First we get you some pretty silver earrings, sorry but twenty-five's the limit, oh ok sorry thirty's it. I'm not rich and you're my girl and I want to do something special for you and pay for it all too. After the earrings we'll for a bite to eat and be ready for Buddy Guy at the Lone Star at eight."
My mouth gaped for and I tried to prevent myself gushing all over him.
And now here we were, an hour and a half later and we still couldn't get past the first part of the adventure. Time was moving fast and the show was at eight and it was already 6:45.
"Don't worry," he said reading my mind. "There's still plenty of time. I know this little place over on McDougal."
I began considering my life and feeling depressed that I would never meet a man who really understood me. He had made a good try, but obviously he couldn't pick out anything I'd possibly even think was halfway attractive – even though he was mostly very smart and had fine choices in movies and music and interesting introspections that made me consider art I wouldn't normally pay attention to. It seemed my life's search to find a partner and mate seemed hazardous at best and mostly pretty hilarious.
We were about to cross against the light when I spied gold glinting in the pale streetlight through the fog and haze of the rainy night. I spied a car moving slowly towards me through the drizzle. I decided to make a run for it and run I did. Holding my hand up high as though I were a crossing mistress at the schoolyard I lithely pranced across the wet street bent over momentarily holding my right hand high while with my left I swiped the golden object off the wet pavement and wrapped it close in my fist continuing my run to the other street side of the street where I awaited my surprised boyfriend who was trying to please me and so not. I was starting to soak through my shoes, my hair hung limply and my mascara was running. I hadn't yet examined the object clutched in my fist. My heart was beating fast and my breathing had sped up from my short sprint. The adrenaline rush moved me.
"So what is it?" he nagged. Or at least I felt nagged. "I suspect it must be something valuable," he continued fluidly, "for you to take a chance on your life like that on such a dim night running into traffic against a light." He paused for a breath too. "Well are you going to open your hand and let me see or not?"
My breath slowed and I answered. "I guess we'll have to see it together for the first time because I have no idea what I picked up only that it glowed golden in the pale streetlight."
I opened my fist and the bracelet glowed like it had a halo. I inspected it and there was miraculously no damage. Passersby looked at us. I closed my fist.
"Hey I said, I'll show it to you at home. It looks like may be valuable and I don't think it's a good idea to show off out here. I don't want end up some statistic."
"Yeah," he said agreeing. "You're right. We can look at it at home."
I kept this watch for thirty years even though the man I'd been with when I found it had long ago moved on. Sometimes I looked at it to examine the handwork and beauty. I had the watch fitted a gold safety chain to make certain I wouldn't lose it but then it looked too rich for me. I like to wear silver plus I'm not particularly crazy about watches although the band was definitely a wide band bracelet. I obsessed about how much an 18-karat gold watch would be worth according to the price of gold. Hand worked with etchings it looked like something one might find at an estate sale. The clock said 17 jewels and Argentina. It weighed near to 3 ounces. I thought maybe I'd leave it to a family member since it seemed a waste to sell it.
This year, when I decided to put down ceramic floors and retile my bathroom I sold the gold watch. At first I was disappointed. The dealer insisted the watch be popped out. He had no interest in the watch's hand carved beauty or that the band was hand etched in three colors gold or that the watch had 17 jewels. Plus I had to pay to have the watch popped out or he wouldn't buy. After all was said and done I ended up with one thousand twenty seven dollars. Not bad for a Valentines Day random find on Bleeker Street thirty years ago on a cold rainy winter night.
Author's note: There are three other bracelet stories written over thirty years ago.
Walking down Bleeker towards McDougal Street in a cold rain on February 14th I kept my head down and my eyes trained on the street we were about to cross. Traffic was moving at a crawl pace because it was Valentines Day and an early Saturday evening when the Village would be normally crowded.
There were less people around than usual but that didn't make me sad. What did make me sad was my boyfriend who said he was quote, taking me down here to have a good time but first he wanted to buy me a present of something I liked.
"What?" I said surprised. Sandy didn't usually take the initiative unless there was good music involved which I had nothing against either.
On a roll he continued, "I figured we'd make a night of it. First we get you some pretty silver earrings, sorry but twenty-five's the limit, oh ok sorry thirty's it. I'm not rich and you're my girl and I want to do something special for you and pay for it all too. After the earrings we'll for a bite to eat and be ready for Buddy Guy at the Lone Star at eight."
My mouth gaped for and I tried to prevent myself gushing all over him.
And now here we were, an hour and a half later and we still couldn't get past the first part of the adventure. Time was moving fast and the show was at eight and it was already 6:45.
"Don't worry," he said reading my mind. "There's still plenty of time. I know this little place over on McDougal."
I began considering my life and feeling depressed that I would never meet a man who really understood me. He had made a good try, but obviously he couldn't pick out anything I'd possibly even think was halfway attractive – even though he was mostly very smart and had fine choices in movies and music and interesting introspections that made me consider art I wouldn't normally pay attention to. It seemed my life's search to find a partner and mate seemed hazardous at best and mostly pretty hilarious.
We were about to cross against the light when I spied gold glinting in the pale streetlight through the fog and haze of the rainy night. I spied a car moving slowly towards me through the drizzle. I decided to make a run for it and run I did. Holding my hand up high as though I were a crossing mistress at the schoolyard I lithely pranced across the wet street bent over momentarily holding my right hand high while with my left I swiped the golden object off the wet pavement and wrapped it close in my fist continuing my run to the other street side of the street where I awaited my surprised boyfriend who was trying to please me and so not. I was starting to soak through my shoes, my hair hung limply and my mascara was running. I hadn't yet examined the object clutched in my fist. My heart was beating fast and my breathing had sped up from my short sprint. The adrenaline rush moved me.
"So what is it?" he nagged. Or at least I felt nagged. "I suspect it must be something valuable," he continued fluidly, "for you to take a chance on your life like that on such a dim night running into traffic against a light." He paused for a breath too. "Well are you going to open your hand and let me see or not?"
My breath slowed and I answered. "I guess we'll have to see it together for the first time because I have no idea what I picked up only that it glowed golden in the pale streetlight."
I opened my fist and the bracelet glowed like it had a halo. I inspected it and there was miraculously no damage. Passersby looked at us. I closed my fist.
"Hey I said, I'll show it to you at home. It looks like may be valuable and I don't think it's a good idea to show off out here. I don't want end up some statistic."
"Yeah," he said agreeing. "You're right. We can look at it at home."
I kept this watch for thirty years even though the man I'd been with when I found it had long ago moved on. Sometimes I looked at it to examine the handwork and beauty. I had the watch fitted a gold safety chain to make certain I wouldn't lose it but then it looked too rich for me. I like to wear silver plus I'm not particularly crazy about watches although the band was definitely a wide band bracelet. I obsessed about how much an 18-karat gold watch would be worth according to the price of gold. Hand worked with etchings it looked like something one might find at an estate sale. The clock said 17 jewels and Argentina. It weighed near to 3 ounces. I thought maybe I'd leave it to a family member since it seemed a waste to sell it.
This year, when I decided to put down ceramic floors and retile my bathroom I sold the gold watch. At first I was disappointed. The dealer insisted the watch be popped out. He had no interest in the watch's hand carved beauty or that the band was hand etched in three colors gold or that the watch had 17 jewels. Plus I had to pay to have the watch popped out or he wouldn't buy. After all was said and done I ended up with one thousand twenty seven dollars. Not bad for a Valentines Day random find on Bleeker Street thirty years ago on a cold rainy winter night.
Author's note: There are three other bracelet stories written over thirty years ago.
July 1, 2011
Let's get it together
Are you ready yet Daddy
Com'on now don't be late again
Com'on now Daddy don't keep me waiting
I'm like a cat caught in a tailspin sitting on a pin
Just say when - I'm ready in the flick of a red crow's feather
The smell of blue heather a little sandalwood some sage wood delight
Come on Daddy get ready
Let's do up the town tonight
Please hurry Daddy and get yourself together
Get ready and don't be late
This is a one time date don't leave this one up to fate
Don't be coming late now cause fate and I don't wait on anyone tonight
Com'on Daddy let the good times roll
Come on Daddy let's get down tonight with a little bit of soul
Let's get down tonight in the bare moonlight
Beneath a starry lit sky
Oh oh my if your on time tonight Daddy you're gonna see
Everything's gonna be alright
If you'd only get out'a bed get ready to get together
and let's do the town up right tonight Daddy
Com'on now don't be late again
Com'on now Daddy don't keep me waiting
I'm like a cat caught in a tailspin sitting on a pin
Just say when - I'm ready in the flick of a red crow's feather
The smell of blue heather a little sandalwood some sage wood delight
Come on Daddy get ready
Let's do up the town tonight
Please hurry Daddy and get yourself together
Get ready and don't be late
This is a one time date don't leave this one up to fate
Don't be coming late now cause fate and I don't wait on anyone tonight
Com'on Daddy let the good times roll
Come on Daddy let's get down tonight with a little bit of soul
Let's get down tonight in the bare moonlight
Beneath a starry lit sky
Oh oh my if your on time tonight Daddy you're gonna see
Everything's gonna be alright
If you'd only get out'a bed get ready to get together
and let's do the town up right tonight Daddy
June 23, 2011
Randall Radac aka John Lee Brook has a new book!
http://www.headpress.com/
Available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble is the best price. Amazon wants more than the price of the book to ship it.
Randall Radac has has been published in Cartier, both poetry and art.
JL: How did you came to write this book?
RR: After meeting some members of the Aryan Brotherhood in jail, I observed they are fascinatingly violent people with almost magnetic personalities. I decided to write a book about them after doing some research and discovering very little had been published about them.
JL: Radac, how bout some spice on his latest publication?
RR: The book is written under my pen name, John Lee Brook and it takes a close look at a White Supremacist Gang. The FBI has says, "In for life and out by death", the Aryan Brotherhood known as "The most ferocious and notorious of any of the prison groups."
As an ex-convict in close contact with the Aryan Brotherhood I've written a devastating exposé, revealing how the notorious white supremacist prison gang has become perhaps the most powerful criminal organization in America, an achievement much more remarkable considering that the majority of its members remain behind bars, and its infamous Commission—the folkloric threesome, Thomas 'Terrible Tom' Silverstein, Tyler 'the Hulk' Bingham and Barry 'the Baron' Mills—are kept in maximum-security solitary confinement, as the US government makes an open effort to subdue the organization by any means necessary.
JL: Any other little blurb, RR?
Yes, despite government efforts to curtail them, the Aryan Brotherhood continues to thrive. My book Blood In, Blood Out demonstrates how a combination of Machiavelli, Nietzsche, meditation, secret codes, brutal violence and sheer will enable its buried puppet masters to continue to tug at the strings of an organization at the forefront of the black market trade in drugs, arms and money laundering. In Blood In, Blood Out, John Lee Brook provides both an extensive overview of the Aryan Brotherhood and a thrilling look at its untold recent history.
About the Author:
John Lee Brook's study of the white supremacy movement has led him to strange places, where he met hard men with strange beliefs. Blood In, Blood Out: The Violent Empire of the Aryan Brotherhood (Headpress Publishing/June 2011) is his first book about white supremacy.
Publisher: Headpress, June 2011
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1900486776
ISBN-13: 978-1900486774
To contact RR, write: johnleebrook@hotmail.com" or doctorradic@msn.com
Available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble is the best price. Amazon wants more than the price of the book to ship it.
Randall Radac has has been published in Cartier, both poetry and art.
JL: How did you came to write this book?
RR: After meeting some members of the Aryan Brotherhood in jail, I observed they are fascinatingly violent people with almost magnetic personalities. I decided to write a book about them after doing some research and discovering very little had been published about them.
JL: Radac, how bout some spice on his latest publication?
RR: The book is written under my pen name, John Lee Brook and it takes a close look at a White Supremacist Gang. The FBI has says, "In for life and out by death", the Aryan Brotherhood known as "The most ferocious and notorious of any of the prison groups."
As an ex-convict in close contact with the Aryan Brotherhood I've written a devastating exposé, revealing how the notorious white supremacist prison gang has become perhaps the most powerful criminal organization in America, an achievement much more remarkable considering that the majority of its members remain behind bars, and its infamous Commission—the folkloric threesome, Thomas 'Terrible Tom' Silverstein, Tyler 'the Hulk' Bingham and Barry 'the Baron' Mills—are kept in maximum-security solitary confinement, as the US government makes an open effort to subdue the organization by any means necessary.
JL: Any other little blurb, RR?
Yes, despite government efforts to curtail them, the Aryan Brotherhood continues to thrive. My book Blood In, Blood Out demonstrates how a combination of Machiavelli, Nietzsche, meditation, secret codes, brutal violence and sheer will enable its buried puppet masters to continue to tug at the strings of an organization at the forefront of the black market trade in drugs, arms and money laundering. In Blood In, Blood Out, John Lee Brook provides both an extensive overview of the Aryan Brotherhood and a thrilling look at its untold recent history.
About the Author:
John Lee Brook's study of the white supremacy movement has led him to strange places, where he met hard men with strange beliefs. Blood In, Blood Out: The Violent Empire of the Aryan Brotherhood (Headpress Publishing/June 2011) is his first book about white supremacy.
Publisher: Headpress, June 2011
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1900486776
ISBN-13: 978-1900486774
To contact RR, write: johnleebrook@hotmail.com" or doctorradic@msn.com
