BY Davey H

11/01 Direct Link

A fairly fresh and VERY hot
Endearing cup of Joe;
KICK BUTT! To give it all we’ve got
So much to do, you know?!

But this busy-bee life
Ranks a big fat ZERO
Amid Sandy’s strife
Over the Big Apple, lo!


Our hearts go out to those stranded in high-rises in the City That Never Sleeps, and now in their time of direst need, must watch ‘oer the company She keeps. In other words, may Lady Luck shine upon them!

An addition to the Epitaph Folder was initiated last night, when Jim G’s brother gave up the fight.

11/02 Direct Link

Sandy’s unbelievable swath was much the suffering of many but barely scratched tabletop conversation in comfy Beantown as we visited with one condo resident of the western provincial area and two North Carolinians. Political robo-calls ranked on par with the horrific devastation 200 miles south of where our fannies were parked.

John, the North Carolinian, former Delawarean and Jersey-ite, proffered his irreverent technique for sidestepping persistent pestiferous political telephone intrusions: he put the receiver down and allowed the automated robo-babbler to ejaculate its unintelligent psycho-piffle into thin air.

Perhaps he could only best that performance by farting into the mouthpiece.

11/03 Direct Link

We stayed up until at least 1 a.m. shooting whatever breezes presented themselves; after all, the NC visitors hadn’t been seen for over 7 years and were rarely heard from, save for the occasional email.

John had sprouted love handles and a serious rat’s nest (beard) covered his mug from below the nose to his shirt collar. His husky baritone was at once measured and drawn when called to the task of presenting factual snippets culled from that magnificent, highly educated mass betwixt his ears.

Occasionally, the overhead chandelier bounced serious rays off his balding pate, further illuminating the room.

11/04 Direct Link

That whirlwind trip had included two separate eldercare visitation stints. Karen (hostess of our cadre) had Mom in one place, Dad in another, and she wasted no time whipping around Beantown’s exurbia with effortless spunk, making all those concentric, traffic signal-bereft maneuvers look logical, even easy.
As this boy previously blogged: Boston is THE prime place to get lost in).

Be on your toes;
learn the ropes,
keep up your hopes, but above all:
and you’ll never have a problem.


We hit the pike WEST – BYE!

Thankful and grateful beyond measure returning to the chilly, serene sticks.

11/05 Direct Link

Off to the races, unenthused
Driving past places
With green metal roofs
In my rusty-assed car
With busted-ass clutch
We went pretty far
But I didn’t care much.

With the radio off
And a song in my head
Damn near got lost
A slight sense of dread
But Hoolie was hot
And he drove pretty fast
Enshrined, he knew aught
An hour had passed
But before we knew knot
Our autos had cast
At that bustling spot
We parked on the grass.

But for doodle-e-squat
I was draggin’ my ass
It wouldn’t be for naught
But to have a blast!

11/06 Direct Link

“It’s almost over.”

Such a welcome refrain
From the other day,
Plucked from roundtable conversation;
Amid so much pain
And not much to gain
Here in our D.S.A. nation!

So that means after this day,
we can bid that panoply of nastiness adieu,
say you?

Divided We Stand
Derided We Stall.
Awaiting commands,
We head for a fall.

Can anyone be in any doubt
that our citizenry is just about ‘campaigned-out’?

What if, for the sake of conjecture, all that money, energy and time spent in chest-thumping, mud-spattering self-aggrandizement at the behest of multifarious donor$ went instead to Sandy’s victims?

11/07 Direct Link

Ahoy! I had to write, I said
Though not sure what to say
A tingling queasy, partial dread
On Presidential day!
As if we needed a predilection
What would come what may
Dithering dappled, sagging erection
Electoral College at play!

Went to place our humble vote
No need to stand in line
Then penciled in on ballots wrote
A simple ‘X’ did just fine.

A bake sale table
Light-hearted jokes
Helped enable us country folks
And ballot question 1 so fair
Git-‘R-done: The Right to Repair!

By midnight we knew
Who prez would be
No surprise for you or me!

11/08 Direct Link


It was on this day
FORMER senator Brown
Ran a little bit short on his luck
And drove away from Boston town
in that trusty pickup truck.

He did one term in the US Senate
Of years, he put his four in;
Standing firm, he served and then it
Went to Senator Warren!

She was our gal
Right from the start
Though we doubted she would win
Our strident pals were poles apart
until the count came in.

We wish her all the best, you see
Our new Eliza-Senator;
To carry on confidently
After those votes we lent her!

11/09 Direct Link

1000 Words behind – oy vay!
And so on this day
Dust off that brain
And find what to say!
It was well to give the words a break
And exit the fray
For exiting (‘s) sake!

This post is crafted
After 9 days of silence
Both verbal and written
In willing compliance;
With solace I’m smitten
And bear no defiance!

Thus begins extrication from ‘the bubble’
Yet again, keeping in view the ardors
For which I have a yen.

And whilst not advisable to compare
oneself with others,
comparison/contrast exercises do
inevitably arise in the overly active
average human mind,

11/10 Direct Link

Yet I have not given up, despite not having had the pleasure of hearing the late grate Winston Churchill orate the line in triplicate. He’s the dude, by the way, who also uttered, “Give me 300 Sherman tanks.”

So I’ll see how many times I can duck out of responsibilities for a requisite recharge and not leave any scars.

I undertook this period of self-imposed imprisonment with full intentions of withdrawing thoroughly from the society in which a niche has been so laboriously carved.

It is arduous,
certainly not just for kicks;
it necessitates leaving with so much to fix!

11/11 Direct Link

Comparisons with one’s brethren well up, present their symptoms of jealousy, defeat, longing, dissatisfaction and a host of ancillary defilements, which sit front and center then swoop back down into the seething cauldron of mental excrement from which they sprang.

It’s only logical, chalked up to another of those idiosyncrasies filed in the ‘being human’ column.

Oh, “the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” – I being the guy who crashes and burns at the bottom of the ski ramp featured every Sunday during ‘The Wide World of Sports’ intro. A moment of indecision led to his near demise.

11/12 Direct Link

Detach! To be able to disengage
And sit under life’s table
To turn the next page
Despite all the odds
After 22 years
Of authority’s prods
and innumerable fears.

Yes, over 2 decades ensconced in a somewhat hectic householder’s existence that precludes longer periods of respite and unsympathetic society-at-large not wholly supportive of such ventures, however temporary the disconnection may be.

By dint of full-time employment in a culture bent on full-time enjoyment and provisional steady cash flow into the coffers of the deserving and undeserving alike, the worker bee is the quintessential cog in the frenetic gears of commerce.

11/13 Direct Link

The simple worker knows his place as another piece of meat on the meat hook.
John Cougar Mellencamp plainly stated this, belting out “Ain’t that America.”

Alas, I know now what waits at home
Best get out the plow
And put nose to grindstone
I’m scribbling this now
Whilst chilled to the bone
Four hours ‘til chow
A conclusion foregone!

Wistfully reminiscing 9 evenings back to tuneful, droning opening formalities, I spare this dull mind the onerous details, opting instead for a cherry picking of how efforts could have improved in an upward direction without busting hemorrhoids in the process.



11/14 Direct Link

As mentioned a post or two ago,
I had signed up and lined up
Whilst feeling GUNG-HO
And opting for a pine board cabin
The second one out in that row
It didn’t need that much rehabbin’
Yes, that much we know.

I had set up the bed
And schlepped baggage in
Then to clear out my head
Went out for a spin.

The first few days weren’t cold
On the feet
But one must be bold
In a place with no heat
This IS New England, after all
And pink Yankee flesh
As you can guess
Frosting cannot forestall!

11/15 Direct Link

Thus ensconced
in a non-throne of un-power:

I stuck with the program
Exceeding timetable
Continued to jam
To extent I was able
As life’s clock with its ticking
Inched closer to death
With practice we’re sticking
And watching our breath!

Few indeed, preciously few, were
periods of strong concentration;
on the 7th day, however,
a welcome magnification
added a much-needed deftness
to oft-perfunctory ham-fisted efforts.

Nature took over.

Thus began the sought-after foray
into a serious burn session:
that dowager’s hump-like, taut-spine &
bodily clenching that painfully announces
to the practitioner that she/he has overturned
the rock that hid psychophysical scorpions.

11/16 Direct Link

One can feel it coming on, that indescribable chilling, even nauseous sensation of impending gloom, not necessarily accompanied by doom, but rather a certitude that one will be facing down the Pit Bull of defilements, replete with potential pain and strain to keep head above water as pus – inevitable in such quagmires – oozes from the festering exit wound one has enabled through one’s own efforts.

Going through this sauna of self- decontamination, it becomes very clear – albeit after many unsuccessful attempts at equanimity – that this absolutely MUST be done, and rigorously maintained once that can of proverbial worms has been opened.

11/17 Direct Link

Emerging from a good burn,
the individual will feel residuals
in evidence; a little huffiness here,
sensitivity there:
It’s par for the course,
So best to take care.

This can all happen
Before the time’s capped;
How the wound/pus analogy is very apt!

Railing further, life continues to slam
and send curve-balls sailing your way
as you head out those gates
after productive stay.

Ergo, returning home after this purging mental lavage, the newly recharged individual will no doubt find residuals in evidence, and will then have more than ample opportunity to apply the skillset one has so diligently absorbed.

11/18 Direct Link

Thought I said it before
But thought you might know
Again I implore:
Hell, I am not a Thoreau!


The nights got chilly with good frosts
on the last 4 or so, and out from under
those wooly warm covers I’d go.

With a quickening step
Toward the heated indoors,
So grateful to schlep
Like a dog on all fours!

Maybe even panting, too
as you’ve never seen a boy walk so fast
Across crispy frosted grass!

Thus, many cups of tea were quaffed,
and cross-legged sessions were spent,
As noisy workers banged nails aloft,
their efforts so non-reticent!

11/19 Direct Link

Kudos to those illustrious carpenters and ancillary noisemakers! For thanks to these saintly characters, along with appropriately parsed donations, we will have a completed Pagoda – the ideal place for serious practice in this hurly-burly Western hemisphere, where food, water (generally speaking) and attendant microbial presences are gut-friendly (again, for the most part).

When silence broke, I scarfed up scrumptious comestibles and departed the dining hall’s quickening chatter, repairing to the chilly, industrial seat of that newly acquired loader.

Hah! They’ll never find me here!

Being outside requisite boundaries meant impromptu scintillation, like a party that winds up in the kitchen.

11/20 Direct Link

I sat in the cab with a little southerly sun
After days of rehab
It was time for some fun!
What’s more, even though
verbal silence was done
My feet on the pedals
Writing had begun!

This quirky move was part of an experiment, an exercise in making the first expressions (after 9 days mum) written rather than spoken.

Suffice to say it felt a tad awkward, like attempting the wretched tangle of algebra for the first time. A largely unused or under-exercised part of the brain is being tapped and is slow getting acquainted with the task at hand.

11/21 Direct Link

Through the open front of the dusty loader, cars – presumably being piloted by semi-conscious occupants – whizzed by with characteristic bluster. Their deafening tire roar was mighty odious, so earplugs came in mighty handy.

Off the ‘press’, I guess, these words should have flowed like candy.

Alas, no.

It is always a struggle, and as one famous scrivener quipped: “thinking is hard work.”

Nonetheless, I make haste, rolling over arthritic thumb pain to spill out thoughts, hopefully in good taste.

The sun is welcome and hot after spending so many days holed up, and the continuous stream of traffic is NOT.

11/22 Direct Link

Ahhh, yes – as they say

God bless – ‘turkey day!

Prior to this standard American BINGE AND PURGE fare, I had the distinct displeasure of being in a room with a television, which unfortunately was ON and tuned to one of those chatty morning talk shows.

The scene was set in a local tire shop waiting room as our trusty rusty received fresh snow boots.

 ‘Should you rinse your turkey before cooking?’ The talking heads posed this nimble-brained query.

“Damn well better!” I thought. Rinse all you want, but you can’t wash off the fact that it is a bloomin' CORPSE.

11/23 Direct Link

Thanksgiving came and went like a fart in a breeze, giving way to gorge of a different sort, if you please: the infamous Black Friday shopping day that’s oh, so American, by the way.

Overstuffed piggery attendants would fret about their overworked plumbing at their oversized McMansions later.

But now, here, today, the crush was on, with an overarching theme: saddling up that oversized SUV, paramount to entering the shopper stream.

Would stampedes occur at the planet’s most oversized retailer as the overzealous tromped over each other to snap up over-hyped doo-hickeys?

They’ll live to tell us when it’s over.

11/24 Direct Link


I now kiss off the Atkins Diet.
Not MINE, if you please – it’s unclean!
Although at one time I thought I’d try it;
So lean and macho and mean!

So gristle-y, grisly, for heaven’s sake
at first I ne’er thought twice;
but chomping into a bloody steak
is this for me? YAKK-BARF! Not nice !!

The munching of meat was thought to surcease
The putting on pounds by the very obese.
This theory?
The gullible would buy it;

And so at the time
The Atkins paradigm
was there by demand to supply it!

11/25 Direct Link

Wrenching free from the warm confines of one’s familiar residence and going on the road to spend a whole bunch of money is never easy. But one does it anyway.

And such, in this case, was the case for two aging baby boomers as they scooted down I-95 en route to not one but TWO Moody Blues shows in New York.

Dusting off a confiscatory hotel stay across the river in Bergen, we made use of a surprisingly reasonable Big Apple shuttle bus.

They say the Apple never sleeps. It’s also overbuilt, horrendously expensive and unsustainable over the long term.

11/26 Direct Link

Darkness precluded any timely rubbernecking about the ostensible Sandy ruins, and we cruised smoothly, covering a small fraction of Long Island’s considerable length, woozy with anticipation, perhaps to the point of rancid fried onion stench being created in sweaty armpits. But no matter; it would be worth it in the end – and long before that.

Theirs was a rotating stage at this venue, and the haphazardly organized directional orientation seemed to favor folks at the 11 o’clock point.

Cigarette fumes from inconsiderate smokers wafted through open doors during the intermission – a side-effect of civilization.

The earplugs helped dim spurious frequencies.

11/27 Direct Link

Despite the vagaries of advancing age
The Moodys still burn up the stage!
The theater roiled with boomer fans
as we shot cool pix
over heads and hands!

Indeed, after 2 hours of frantic picture taking above heads, hands and blinking cameras of the similarly semi-obsessed – amidst high-decibel pleasurable sound absorption, thankful beyond measure for hearing protection, thank you very much – we slipped out via side exits into the chilly night air in hopes of seeing the band before they disappeared into the safe confines of that mega-bus.

That’s the only moniker one can bestow to such a DeLorean-esque contraption.

11/28 Direct Link

No, we are NOT groupies, but sure acted like them. Call it a bit of immaturity spiced with a tad of that middle-aged ‘last hurrah’ phenomenon that creeps into consciousness, raises its butt-ugly head for a bit, then raps you on your rapidly balding pate, braying: “get out there and get what you want, you old grate!”

I left a binocular soft case the night before, and did that dismal performance abhor, then bested it by leaving the set of binoculars in the seat tonight.

Upon realization of that mistake, and trying to reenter the venerable building, a tense roadie shouted me down.

11/29 Direct Link

But no matter against the clatter;
We dallied and watched
as our dream/scheme shattered.
An opening botched
And tickets torn, tattered.
I felt like a hapless pawn
With no voice, no choice
But to DAMNIT! Move on.

It would be another late night
with the repeated hassle of
finding affordable accommodations.

Take a look at all those empty buildings!”
T had noted this, as did I,
much gray hair our wishful youth to belie.

And to think
nobody will get up off a small space
for less than $100.00 per night
’Twas a thought to make farm boy get uptight.

11/30 Direct Link

The next room sported a hot tub, which normally would have elicited coos (and/or ooze) and ahhh’s from any given recipients, but in this instance, failed to perform as advertised due to producing piss-warm water – chlorinated, no doubt fluoridated water, at that.
But in it we sat
Like lard in a vat.

Internet connectivity was another disingenuously promoted waste of time.

Do you get the feeling Davey H is cynical – even spiteful?

Well, congrats; tee-he:
That’s delightful.

For you see, when a country boy gets pokin’
around city slickers’ haunts,
it can get his dander up smokin’
during these jaunts.