Forest Park in Autumn
Also, I’ve added photos to flickr of my wanderings with Justin. Take a walk in Forest Park, visit the western Catskills, and check out Salem for Halloween.
Just wanted to let you all know that installment 2 of my little story is up. I haven’t re-read or edited, so forgive my grammatical errors, tense-shifts and typos. Hope you’re all doing well.
Well I guess it qualifies as a story. I began writing this a couple of months ago and never finished it. I have a little more to type up, but it’s late. I am tired.
Wondering what caused me to do this?
The whole purpose of doing this was because… I felt like it. :) It was a good feeling to write something with no purpose and without real concern over whether it would be good or not. It reminded me of high school, when creative writing was fun and something I did for the hell of it.
Take a gander at my little story. I’ll see about typing up the last little bit tomorrow.
I thought it might be cool to open this up to anyone that felt like continuing the story, writing down a parallel path, or hell, even just adding a sentence. But I know no one will feel like doing that, nor have the time, so I’ll relieve you of the pressure.
Why share this thing now, tonight, when I actually worked on it months ago?
A friend of mine mentioned something today that sent me down a path of looking up the portfolio sites of coworkers (past and present). That then led me to perusing some of my own older sites and old communities I used to be a part of… I ended up closing out old accounts in the process, but it reminded me how creative I can be and how I am actually pretty good at design. In short, it made me feel like sharing something somewhat creative. There ya have it… G’nite.
heroes stumbling
quickly emptying
riches from the safe
grabbing the girl
on the way
out
an afterthought?
What is a hero if he is not rich?
Create your own work of art with internet magnetic poetry.
Sheila holds Ollie, her creation
A few weeks back, Justin and I were in Brooklyn for an innocent night of TV watching with fellow entertainment addicts. One of the gals there suggested I attempt to write for the Examiner website. Her friend was doing it and, apparently, it’s something you can get paid for. Being in dire need of income, I decided to give it a shot. After applying for an “adventure travel examiner” position, I received the “outdoor examiner” slot. Apparently they’re still waiting for their adventure writer to get started, but outdoors is …sort of… …almost… the same. At any rate, I’ve already earned a whole dollar so far!:D
OK, obviously this is not going to be about the money. But why not write? Why not have something positive to focus on that I love doing and a quasi-justifiable reason for doing it? That’s the way I am looking at this endeavor. So far, I have written one article on ice climbing in the Catskills and another on vacationing in Rincon, Puerto Rico. More will surely follow. Check out my New York Outdoor Examiner page and click my bio to expand that section! :)
Table of amuse-bouches and finger sandwiches
In other news, my cousin Sheila’s baby shower was onthe 14th. Val! and I helped Mom get ready for it, as did lots of other family members (notably Sha Sha, Linda and Leanne). Val! wanted to make some amuse-bouches for the party. I was her sous chef. Everything went off remarkably well! Check out my photos here, Val!’s here, and Sheila’s here.
Hiking near Red Lodge
First of all, check out my photos from Montana including my brief stopover in Denver. Warning: too many self-portraits. There are some lovely scenic shots though. ;)
This morning I wanted to spend some time writing but I was uninspired so I just decided to describe a bit of mine and Justin’s journey home from Brooklyn last night.
Last Night
We stumbled every few steps over the uneven sidewalk, scarred as it was with thick bands of wild grass, broken and even shattered to bits in some areas from neglect… The streetlights became soft orbs of light in the humid night air. On a bridge in the distance, the line of lights was distorted so everything glowed, seemingly uniform. To our east, a fair distance beyond the nearest buildings and the river, the city was entirely obscured by the thick, hazy moisture. All we could tell of the city was a strange purple glow, refusing to acknowledge the presence of a sunless sky – ignoring the notion of twinkling stars above.
Calvary Cemetery by Tony the Misfit
An impressive cemetery stretched out along the western side of the street. All the stones were black, slate, grey. Towering obelisks and massive crosses crowded together, interspersed with hulking sepulchers. As crowded in life as in death in this city of ours. We could’ve been in New Orleans – my imagination readily allowed. My companion snickered as we clambered passed the Best Western City View Hotel. All of the windows facing the cemetery were frosted. I suppose this was out of concern for their customers rather than deference toward the dead. It would’ve disappointed me had I stayed there. The cemetery was really quite lovely, and at sunset, I imagine it would be breathtaking to behold filled with warm golden light.
We walked into a more residential neighborhood where the sidewalks notably improved. Spanish voices serenaded our march as a mother ushered in her little children at 10PM – their playground an empty street with one lone Latin bar. I suspected that the bar was completely abandoned, though the loud music emanating from within suggested otherwise.
A few minutes later we came to the corner of a couple of streets flanked by tall, red brick apartment buildings and spotted a small yellow cab. It was one of the new, more energy-efficient hybrid models. We were lucky to flag it down easily. Upon climbing in I was surprised to discover that the safety glass I’d become accustom to which separated driver from patron was non-existent in this state-of-the-art vehicle. I wonder if it speaks to the current safety of New York city streets or something else entirely that has yet to occur to me. I gave the driver our address and we sped quickly home.
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