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explore share listen enjoy explore share listen enjoy to explore and share the diversity of the people i meet and places i venture and a space to continue writing and keep my own creativity alive tuesday july 30 2013 change your environment to get things uh moving http www fastcompany com 3014676 how to design a more serendipitous creative life number 2 no pun intended has been a consistent thought i ve had here in portland as i frequent tea shops and in turn must frequent the restroom many establishments will share a building in which the single stalled bathrooms are placed in the center of the structure and customers unite in the hallway to wait an interesting place to strike up a conversation before slipping into privacy you never know what can happen while in line for the loo serendipitous creative endeavors could emerge ah damn this post has turned to shit posted by bananaboat_577 at 12 02 am no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest wednesday july 24 2013 poetry post turns herb garden one bike adventure to the rebuilding center on mississippi one cutting of plexiglass one afternoon of nail foraging have you ever looked down to see how many screws are just lying around one evening carrying two two by fours from steve and larry s house two men i randomly asked for wood seven blocks from home yes steve and larry yes i said wood one bloody thumb gorilla glue building blocks one tired arm o sawing many un straight lines one hot mess one loss of vision and by vision i mean simplicity and one week later i finished and aborted a poetry box all at once i can build pretty much anything at this point my visions were lofty execution poor table saw and half a brain more next go round but it evolved into this poems not to be contained but plucked up with the pineapple sage or a sprig of mint or some free lemon thyme i suppose the block i started with held a good idea all along and while i thought i might become barb the builder i will not be assembling the next ark anytime soon but i might like another go at it plumbean book exchange posted by bananaboat_577 at 9 36 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest thursday july 18 2013 contornionist those poor bonsai just want to grow a coworker s grandmother said just think of their limbs all twisted and contorted manipulated and made to fit into one small pot continually shaped to stunt growth although japanese culture says a tree left growing in it s natural state is a crude thing bonsai contorted roots your branches sag bonsai clipped wings twisted trunk bonsai thirsty for the clouds posted by bananaboat_577 at 8 44 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest wednesday june 19 2013 only one thing left this is the oddest place to spend a summer first off because yes portland is odd but mostly because there is no real semblance of summer of consistent sun of shorts and short sleeves of people bustling about in a patterned fashion just a random assortment of heated days in this rain stricken city residents peeking their heads out for a cup of coffee or slowly making their wet commutes to work meanwhile what can you do while waiting for the annual 6 weeks of solid sunshine that supposedly ensues after july 4th clad with movies in the park bbqs horseshoe pits hammocks and pbr or mason jars full of sun tea yes indeed masturbate posted by bananaboat_577 at 8 23 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest monday may 27 2013 seeds my sister in law eats sunflower seeds to feel like she s back home she talks to her parents in a foreign tongue in high pitched tones and her voice chirps most nights via skype while i m trying to sleep before opening shifts at a coffee shop i work these days i feel my blood boiling when i can t comprehend why she has a particular place for everything why i don t seem to clean a dish quite well enough why my brother ever wanted to get married in the first place why the word grateful doesn t always reverberate in my mind i watch them come home from their weekend errands to ikea or whole foods or an asian market and i watch the filling of their house with a delivery from amazon daily a new tv curtain rods a rice cooker a sweater for their cat and i watch her cook what seems to be the same three ingredients every night meat something green and gallons of oil and i watch my brother do the pile of dishes afterward and her scuttle around in her inside shoes as i stare at my bare feet too stubborn to respect her tradition of covering them and i don t understand what i feel is pulling at my own heels telling me to let my toes roam free i simply step back outside to settle somewhere else for the evening and i think about this making of a home and how i ve watched it before and it s not about the tv or the start of a garden growing out back or the food in the fridge or the meal itself but what s created by simply doing these things the tv will break the garden will freeze and the meal will be gone the dishes done upon returning and watching her crack those shells i feel something stopped in my tracks as i remove my shoes at the door and ask do you feel like you re in china today and she nods i ask if she d like to try a blood orange i picked up at the corner fruit stand and she does and i watch her peel it quickly i don t know what it means to feel closer perhaps this is it the closest i can come for now seeing her with her cats and that orange and a pile of seed shells by her side home settling somewhere in her belly posted by bananaboat_577 at 9 33 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest homage to the unknown i found myself walking through a cemetery this evening faintly reminiscent of a time my dad and i visited one some summer night when i was 12 i don t recall why we were there perhaps to pay homage to someone or just to roam i do remember the eerie comfort of being in a place that recognized and somehow magnified that death was real or so it seemed as i stared at plot after plot i thought about death then as this realm that floated around us almost tangible like a constant tango i recall standing over my parent s bed staring them awake many nights as a child hoping they could assuage my angst about that moment when life ceases they could not so many nights i d let it linger in the air after vivid dreams of a burning earth or dark alleyways in which death itself or some thing seemed to accompany me these days are no different i still dream of death and it still lingers in my waking life but it seems to hit harder when i m going slow in the polarity in the juxtapositions the tiger lily resting on an old wooden fence the pruned up cheek of my elderly neighbor pressed against her 2 year old grandson s the ripples from geese skidding atop the willamette the first sight of the pacific after many months away the liftoff of a 747 a smile from a homeless man who doesn t ask for a thing i see death in a stack of books yet to be read i see it in light i see it in the planning of a camping trip to the coast i see death in all the things i won t be able to do i see it in the excitement of possibilities in all the places i will never visit and all the places i already have in the two places i cannot be at once i see it in the sunset a friend sends me i see it in all the people i could love if i d let myself and all the people i have i see it in the humor of the world i see it when i send snail mail i see it swaying in an empty hammock i see it in my chai tea steeping in a christmas mug at a café on se 23rd i see it sometimes in a single word i see it in a good one liner simply it hits me when i m exited about life and maybe this is when death isn t so eerie it just is coming closer and closer i wanted to snap a photo of the sun falling on the headstone reading the last name failing but couldn t muster up sharing the irony via snapshots so i walked on past florence wade english deardorrf harlow and many others some with flags in recognition of the holiday one i ve never found myself celebrating either with fancy americanized weekend trips or acknowledging anyone who served sadly but true instead i wandered the headstones imagining friend s parents and my own relatives who have passed what they were like what kind of jokes they would tell whether they put cream or sugar in their coffee if they drank coffee at all if they had healthy sex lives if they worried about money or the state of the world or what the reason for living was all about what my great grandfather s quirks were if he made similar silly faces if we would have been close or even liked each other s company i didn t kneel down and speak out loud above decaying bones or ashes i didn t know anyone in that cemetery on holgate i only knew that the sun was going down slowly behind gathering clouds and there was a crow near an old oak picking at haphazardly tossed leftovers and an abandoned house next door an orange and green coffee mug resting on stacked furniture a hole in the window screen and an oregonian mailbox in tact waiting for the news posted by bananaboat_577 at 8 51 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest friday may 24 2013 jetsam an apple core thrown overboard i miss you since you ve gone lagan a starfish blown ashore tethered to the milky way flotsam debris filled wake of wanderlust where do we go when we die posted by bananaboat_577 at 10 38 pm no comments email this blogthis share to x share to facebook share to pinterest older posts home subscribe to posts atom blog archive 2013 22 july 3 change your environment to get things uh moving poetry post turns herb garden contornionist june 1 may 7 march 1 february 4 january 6 2012 3 december 3 about me bananaboat_577 logan utah united states my favorite book growing up was a little gem called the big orange splot mr plumbean lives on a neat street where all the houses are the same until one day a mysterious bird drops a can of orange paint a big orange splot on his house from that moment on plumbean is inspired to defy conventional thought embracing and welcoming this opportunity for change and the discovery to be well just himself he paints his house every color you can imagine sets up a hammock in his front lawn and adopts an alligator his neighbors soon find themselves exploring and implementing their own expressions of who they are it s a children s book but as often as they are it is about so much more individuality creativity acceptance exploration sharing listening enjoying view my complete profile watermark theme powered by blogger