Hazy-cloudy today, and I couldn't waste the opportunity of good light. Communed with Nature again, and got photos of a wild onion seed-pod and some still-red blackberries, along with a few barn shots and a church steeple.
.......................................................
For Meanie-
I'm thinking about you. Things will work out. Real friends forgive and forget, so take a deep breath and think happy thoughts.

You and I

If you and I were the only two people left in the world, what would we say to each other?

Today has seemed like Monday. I've an emotional hangover from the past few days, and poison ivy from adventures in the bush.

For Meanie, I hope you get over your blues soon.
......................................................................................

Live as if you were to die tomorrow.
Learn as if you were to live forever.
Mohandas Gandhi

We drove up to Wilbur and Watauga dams today. Air temp was 7 or 8 degrees cooler in the hills. Crossed the Appalachian Trail, which made me want to park and start hiking. Crap, I can't even walk!

Did get a few pics and eyed some places where I want to return for some more shots.

Drove as deep into the mountains as I could, then walked a few more steps—with the assistance of my cane—until I was too tired to continue. I was able to get a few photos there, and from three more sites on the way back.

The location is on Clark's Creek, which is a fire access road that runs up a valley between two mountain spurs. The powers allow camping along the stream. Haven't camped here since July 2001, and after the flash flood later that year washed out several bridges and some of the roadway, the area was closed for repairs 'til last year.

We first camped here in the mid-seventies, and did so several times each year for several summers. We took our four wheel drive trucks to the tops of the mountains and enjoyed the balds and vistas. Three of us even managed to get stuck atop Rich Mountain on a cold night in November 1978.

Then the nasties took over. They were probably the most uncivilized pack of clap-trap jerks I've ever had the pleasure of not knowing.

In the mid-eighties, the forestry people placed some toilet facilities and other amenities for campers. It didn't take but a few months until they all were completely trashed.

They took their four-wheelers to the top of the ridges and tore hell out of the balds. It didn't take long for the Forest Service to block the roads to the summits.

By the mid-nineties, things were getting back to normal, and people were returning to camp, wade the streams, and hike to the waterfalls, although access to the hill tops was then and is still denied by large boulders placed in strategic locations. Now, on holiday weekends such as this, one has to squat on a camp site by Thursday evening, because by Friday evening, all are taken.

My little jaunt did me some good, although temporarily. As soon as I turned into the driveway of the hateful house in which I am forced to live—at least temporarily—the depression returned worse than ever.

I managed to scrape the hide off a couple of potatoes and slice and fry them for my only meal yesterday. Today, I'm having a can of cold October beans and a slice of stale bread. Can't stand long enough to do much more than operate a can opener.

Tomorrow is another Sunday, and I hate Sundays.

À Tout Le Monde

Only one baby robin left, but it seems to be eating enough for two.

The knee has deteriorated to the point where I can barley walk. I desperately need to get the surgery, but family things are preventing it. I had an appointment with the surgeon for the preliminaries, but today I had to cancel. It looks like one's closest family could respect one's needs, but selfishness makes more sense to some.

My left foot is swollen to at least twice the normal size. My left knee has already been replaced, and all the swelling in that foot comes from physical inactivity. The right foot swells, but not near the point that the left one does.

The worst part, the fluid that fills the flesh in my feet has now migrated to my chest. I am having breathing problems and there is fluid around my heart, in other words, dropsy, or as it is better known, congestive heart failure.

Now there is a big, black piss ant crawling on my leg, aggravating me. I ain't got chance...

À Tout Le Monde

Glenwood Union Church

This is the first church that I attended. My mom brought me here when I was little and it is located on the road where I grew up, about a quarter-mile from the house I was born in. I remember going to Vacation Bible School here, and it used to be shaded by two large red maple trees, but they did away with them so more cars could be parked. Only a very few people worship here now, due to no one being able to get along.

The land for the church and the adjoining cemetery was deeded to the community in about 1910-1911. It was to be used for-and-by the community only. If it ceased to be used by the community, it was to revert to the folks that ceded it.

The people of the community allowed a Johnson City preacher and his small flock to start services here in the 1970s, and many of the locals began attending. Wasn't long before the locals were put on notice that the church was now the property of the preacher and his wife. They had become de facto squatters. These foreigners even took over the cemetery and ruled on who could and who could not be interred here. They decided it would be used for the people from Johnson City only.

The locals fought back, and at least got the cemetery away from the citified children of God. The citizens are allowing the preacher's family and his three or four followers to keep the church open, as long as they take care of maintenance on the cemetery. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't.

I've helped carry the bodies of several of my family members beneath the old bell. That was back when families brought their loved ones home for a wake and on to the church for funeral service and the ensuing burial. I carried my grandmother—the woman that was a second mother to me—through the old door.

She, my granddad, my dad, and my mom are buried in the cemetery, along with many more members of the extended family.

The part that is now attached to the front of the church house wasn't there until 1970s. It houses the restrooms. The exterior is in disrepair.The tip of the steeple has gone missing, and someone replaced it with a wooden one. The siding nearest the ground is rotting away. The guttering has fallen away, and much of the soffit and fascia has deteriorated.

I have no idea what is to become of the building, or even the cemetery when my generation has passed. I will not be buried here, as I wish to be cremated and my ashes dumped into a rotting stump on the forested western-facing side of one of my mountains, overlookng the hills and valleys below.

Last Evening

For supper last evening, I had chunky peanut butter on Graham crackers. Later, I trimmed my nose hair.

For Meany

Take care of yourself.

It's been just over an hour since daybreak. I've been reading blogs and looking for new photo posts by my Flickr friends.

Last evening was spent helping my cousin get his new dsl connected. He is now a Flickr member and I look forward to seeing his photos. He lives in Jonesborough, so I naturally had to drive downtown to get a few pictures. The place is a photographer's paradise—if he/she can get around well.

Most of the pics were unusable because a sky filter I had just put on the camera was slightly fogged. I don't know why it happened. I didn't have the A/C on in the truck, so it couldn't have been that (even though the temp was in the 80s, I had my windows down so I could hear the chicks whistle and holler "woo-woo, handsome" as I cruised by). It wasn't visible through the viewfinder, but it sure messed up some photos. Some though were salvageable with software.

Today is going to be another wonderful day, although I wish it would rain. I can take photos all day long when it's cloudy outdoors because of the even light. That's where B&W really prevails.

One of our babies died. Carolyn found it lying beneath the nest yesterday afternoon.

Alive!

What a beautiful day!

Birds are singing
Sun is bright
In the moment
Life is right

Baby robins rule the porch. Nature is a good thing... it is the great equalizer.
Even when life is bluest, solace may be found there.
Everything will be all right.
---------------------------------------------

About Paris

I found a copy of an old love letter that I sent someone special long, long ago. In those days, I typed a copy of all my correspondences—there wasn't that much—so I would someday know what my life was like back when...

Dearest Tess,

I was overjoyed when I received your reply, because I didn't know if I was sending my letter to the correct address or even the right Tess. Thank God that you got it.

Yes Tess, I remember oh so well when and how we met. It was late spring of '63 in Paris and near the water. I was trying to entice a local painter to part with one of his masterpieces at less than his value. He spoke little English—so he claimed—and I was, and still am, completely ignorant of that beautiful French dialect.

You overheard my pleas and came to my rescue. You spoke enough of the language to get by, and you soon had the painting for me at the price I wanted to pay. Remember we found out later that day that the painter was born and raised in America but had been living in Paris for many years? The scoundrel.

Darling Tess, you were finishing graduate work and due to leave for your home in London the next day. I was a tourist trying to mend a broken heart and failing badly. For a special day, you became my princess, my savior..., the woman I loved.

We had lunch at a sidewalk cafe, and then visited some small museums that you knew about.

We parted ways, promising to meet at the same spot later on. As usual, I got lost and you were about to write me off as another weired American. But, things got better.

Remember the restaurant that was about to close for the evening, and you sweet-talking the chef into charing us a steak. That's when you introduced me to Merlot, and ever since that night, I've loved its soft sweetness, because it continues to remind me of the flavor of you.

We walked along the evening riverfront for hours, holding hands like a couple of kids, each of us beginning to fall in love, I think. It was around midnight when the rain started, but it didn't bother us. We sat to rest on a park bench, and we kissed for the first time, and then continuously, the strengthing rain failing to cool our passion. Then we made love in that same rain and on that same bench, two souls oblivious of the world.

Unfortunately, the world wasn't oblivious to our lovemaking. I'll never forget the gendarme that must have waited politely in the downpour until we were sated and then politely shooed us away with a "stern" warning. I truly believe that only the French know what love is.

You spent the night at my hotel, and when I awakened next day, you were gone, which I think we both knew you would be since first we touched.

You left a note on an envelope, and inside I found a cutting of your beautiful auburn hair.

It's taken me nearly ten years to find you, and now I don't know what to say to you. You are married and living in Chicago, and I am still love's long loser. Even here in Amsterdam where love comes easily, I am lonely, for only you can I love.

Like that star-crossed couple in the movies, we'll always have Paris.

My heart is forever yours,
......................................................................................................................................

Carolyn's uncle Haskel and his wife from Bristol came down to visit. He is 89 and Pauline is 92. Pauline's son, Butch, brought them, after getting lost only once. Haskel's body is drawn pretty badly, but Pauline is just as spry as ever. They get around better than Carolyn and I, actually.

Haskel, a distant cousin, and Carolyn are the only ones left in their family of the "older" generation. Tears were shed when it came time to say their goodbyes, as they never know if they will ever see one another again.

I'm just now getting the times sheets done.

Damn, I love Mondays. Love is a powerful word, isn't it?

Another week has slipped by without much ado. Carolyn is working today, probably 12 hours at the least.

I'm a lonely little boy... I wish someone would come over and play.

I suppose church people are churching, sinners are sinning, and the rest of us are doing our thing. My thing today is finally finishing time sheets, preparing this months invoices, and breaking beans.

Carolyn starts work on a new account tomorrow night. This is only the second such this year, so far. It's not been a great year for her, as she has lost three accounts, two of which were fairly large. A large multi-national company has decided to be aggressive in this market, and they are underbidding her big time. Generally, after about six months, these ex-customers call Carolyn and want to know if she is interested in rebidding the job, because they aren't satisfied with work being performed, or with the customer service from their new vendor. She usually tells them to add ten percent to her last bid. Some do and some wont. She doesn't advertise her business much these days, because she intends to retire in another year. We'll sell our house, rent something, and sit and look at one another all day.

Damn, I hate Sundays.
-----------------------------

I spent a year in that town, one Sunday.
-George Burns

...You're Just Another Brick In The Wall

The Dogs of War

The dogs of war don't negotiate
The dogs of war won't capitulate,
They will take and you will give,
And you must die so that they may live
You can knock at any door,
But wherever you go, you know they've been there before
Well winners can lose and things can get strained
But whatever you change, you know the dogs remain.

Titles and lyrics copyright© 1979 by Pink Floyd, Roger Waters, et al

Blackberry Winter

And Shot Day

Blackberry briars are in full bloom, so a cool spell isn't unexpected. However, I have never known it to be this cold this late in May. They are saying we may have scattered frost before morning. We are bringing the hanging baskets and potted plants inside for tonight.

Bought a new gas stove today. I hate to waste money on fripperies such as that. It could be better spent on computer and camera equipment. I saw a lovely new tripod at Best Buy...

Stopped at the old watering hole on the way home for a cheeseburger and beer. Some meanie posted a beautifully compelling photo of a cheeseburger on her blog a few days back, and I had to have one. Thanks meanie, as I pigged out and am now nauseous.

Chapel Window

Chapel Window
Originally uploaded by annony_mouse.

The 9/11 Blues

Last evening I went out to take a few photos. It was raining, and I drove the seven miles to the Nolichucky River to see what was interesting.

I stopped along the way at the old Cherokee Baptist Church in an attempt to get a shot or two, then continued on to the river, seeking some of the places where long ago there were some good views. All the places where one could park were blocked by large boulders, so I headed back toward home.

Almost there when the rain stopped and the sun appeared, so I decided to go on over to the VA campus because on an earlier trip there, I saw what I thought would be a great photo opportunity. The sun would have to be low in the west for the shot I wanted.

When I got to my chosen area, I had to wait a few minutes for the light to be perfect. I got out of the Escape and walked to the spot that figured would be just right. I wasted a few clicks on some tree rats that were playing on the lawn across the street from the chapel, and a few more shots on the building beside my objective.

Suddenly, the sun came screaming through the west-side windows of the church, illuminating the east windows from inside. I was ready to "capture the moment".

I got one shot when a campus police officer drove up near me and asked if I had a permit to take photos on VA property. I told him no, and that I didn't know I needed one.

He told me to put the camera away and not take any more photos there without written permission. I complied with his order. He didn't say for me to leave the grounds, but he followed me until I did so.

Just outside the gates, a city police cruiser came racing up behind me almost to my bumper. I thought that it was going to be some hard time in Gitmo for me.

The patrol car backed off, but continued to follow me all the way home. The cruiser stopped in front of my house and waited until I got out of my vehicle before leaving. Damn, I felt important.
........................................................................................

Well, if you know me at all, you realize that I have a rant coming about all of this, don't you?

Stay tuned!

......................................................................................

The biggest problem with trying to live anonymously is people not knowing how really important I am. -KenA

Today

"Was you ever bit by a dead bee?"
Originally uploaded by annony_mouse.

Not much happening today. Have to help Carolyn with the employee time sheets.

It's supposed to be raining, but the sun has shown its lovely face. Hope it does at least get cloudy this afternoon when I go for a round of photo taking. Some rain wouldn't hurt either, as I need a bath.

Papa robin is on the nest this morning. Mom is over at the fence eating a worm and catching up on some gossip.

Man, I gotta get a life!

A Man of God

I read that the Reverend Jerry Falwell died yesterday. My condolences go to his family.

That being said, my opinion of him is not good. I considered him to be an opportunist and a man of not so high morality.

His forte was the massive spreading of fear, which is not unlike the majority of his kind. They use any type of media available to get "the" message to the most people. Nothing wrong with that, per se. Their sin is one of sowing fear and doubt to confuse the minds of those whom are most vulnerable. The Reverend Falwell was a Master of mass persuasion.

He started on his path as super-evangelical by catering to the fear mongers of the nineteen-sixties. He proclaimed to side with segregationists, gay bashers, anti-unionists, anti-semantics, and anti-anything that could endear him to God-fearing southerners and the money that they were willing to pay him to propound their views.

And it worked so very well. Like the Reverend Billy Graham, he became affluent with the gold of his believers, and monetary wealth has a religious-like influence all its own. It can and does buy the ears and votes of politicians, capitalists, and other anti-intellectuals. His political muscle, which was made massive by daily injections of the fear and intolerance steroids, was flexed mightily when he facilitated the election of three US presidents.

He chided the Bakkers for living abundantly. That is hypocritical in that he also lived that life of plenty. The difference? Falwell didn't flaunt it as did Jim and Tammy Faye. Falwell was just too righteous to be a man of great wealth, or so it seemed.

Falwell is one of the most important reasons that I turned against organized religion. Apparently, most Americans seem to need a religion in their lives and I have no problem with that. I believe that education and diligence can overcome anything, even the very worst influences such as the Reverend Falwell and his kind. All it takes is time, and time is all we had when we were born.

I could have a marvelous rant over what's depicted in this photograph, but I won't... for now!

----------------------------------

I'll help Carolyn prepare a bid for a large apartment complex today. Then it's off to look at another possible job.

Our oven is broken, and I want a homemade biscuit and a baked tater.

It's almost impossible to find a gas range in this backwater town. Plenty of electric, though. "Check online and we'll order it for you", they say. If I'm going to spend that kind of money, I want to see what I'm buying. So, we are at a standstill.

I have no plans for picture taking today, but, who knows?

********************************************

Some marvelous short stories can be found here: http://lordbubbha.blogspot.com/

I helped Carolyn work on a couple of bids today. Hope that she is successful on at least one of them.

I'm planning to go out for some picture taking this evening. A place or two—and old barn and the dog-walker's impoundment at the local park—caught my eye when we were out Saturday last. I wanted to shoot some at the lake, as there once was some easy-to-get-to spots where the sunset could be really appreciated. Now there are houses and condos everywhere. I reckon I'll have to stick to my mountains for natural beauty, either that or look at myself in the mirror.

We are thinking of maybe taking a train excursion through the Hiwassee River Gorge. It will be in mid-June if Carolyn doesn't have to work that weekend. The drawback is a bus trip to Etowah, which is near to Chattanooga, and back to JC after the train ride.

Happy Mother's Day Dot. I Miss You.

Happy Mom's Day to my bride of nearly forty-three years.
You're still my punkin.
++++++++++++++++++++++++

Happy Mother's Day to Alice and Robin. You are very special to me.

--------------------------------------

Carolyn cleaned the office carpet yesterday. Mostly coffee spills.

Later, we went for a drive through the countryside, out by Boone Lake and then into old town for a banana split. Back home for burgers on the grill along with fried potatoes and onions. Also, she served sliced green peppers and cucumbers on the side. A cold Miller—vintage last month—topped-off everything.

Seeing that none of her kids are going to take her out for a meal, Carolyn is planning garden salad, salmon cakes, and mashed potatoes and peas for supper. Later, we plan to watch Ben Stiller's Night at the Museum and maybe Monty Python and the Holy Grail. We've seen the latter a couple of times, but it's one of those "watch me again" type movies.

If the people of France had sense of humor as do the British, this old world would be so much the better. However, the French are immersed in self perpetuating national paranoia and are infected with elitism which, I fear, will lead to eventual disaster.

Evening Last

I went into the old town last evening with the intention of doing some through-the-window photos, but they were having "music on the square" where all the quaint shops are located. I ended shooting some pics around the Presbyterian church area.

I was able to get a picture of an old house that I previously captured on a night assignment in the early eighties. The building hasn't changed as much as I have.

Being a National Historic District, the town is clean and well kept. Jonesborough is the home of the International Storytelling Center, which hosts the national Storytelling Festival in October of each year, and Jonesborough Days is held on Independence Day weekend.

Annually, the town draws thousands of tourists from around the world to experience some of the lifestyles of the "over-mountain" folk of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries.

Today

I got nothing to do today, and I intend spending the entire day doing it.

If anyone is interested, here is the address of my other blog where I put some of my stories.
http://lordbubbha.blogspot.com/

Rant

I feel a rant coming on. I've not produced a good one in a while.

When I get it all together, you can cover your eyes and ears if you want.

I'm back, and here it is!

This is the kind of mail that I get much too often. I begins: Dear Senior Citizen, we are happy to make you this generous offer, so act today and take advantage of the low rates before your next birthday. Blah, blah!

I expect to get junk mail, just like anyone else. But calling me a Senior Citizen is when too much becomes enough.

I ain't no Senior Citizen. Damn, that phrase sounds so Orwellian. You can call me just about anything you wish, and no matter what it is, I can more than likely answer to it. I am an old goat, a geezer, gramps, an old man, an old fart, and a lot of other good things that relate to aging. Even being called elderly is better than the misnomer of Senior Citizen. I ain't no adman's Senior darn Citizen. For the sake of Pete, I'm not too awfully proud of being an American citizen these days.

You son's-of-bitches on Madison Avenue ought to get a semblance of a life and stay away from mine. Don't condescend me. It's difficult enough facing the indignity of old age, the wear that my body has endured and the uncertainties of what future I have.

Don't lump me into a wad just to market to me. Treat me with respect.

And never, never tell me that I am in my Golden Years. You money grubbing mothers are in the Golden Years, at least for the gold that you can swindle from me and people like me.

I'm not physically able to fight with with these jerks, but if I happen to meet one, and he says anything about the aforementioned sins, I will explain to him his genealogy with cuss words he never imagined existed.
---------------------------------------------

On to things more important.

Carolyn planted snapdragons today, and tomorrow she'll spread mulch. She enjoys it, and it keeps me out of her hair.

Oh, yes. I got my shot today.

Nice

Someone has been nice to me today.
Thank you so much.

Moving

I am moving the few stories, poems, and etc. that I've written and any new ones to a new blog.

If anyone desires the address, let me know.

I Return to Aloneness

Today, I try to begin anew. Some things from my recent past have been haunting me, but I hope that I've dealt with them in a wise and caring way.

True, it shall be hard, but an old man has faced and dealt with many difficulties. From some I have gained, and from others I have lost. What I've lost from this one will, I hope, teach me to try to do better from here on. What would we be if we didn't learn from our mistakes?

To the one that I hurt: I am sorry, but I expect no forgiveness, and I'll live with that. We are whom we are.

Sigh...

Gonna Do It

Got to get some blood work done today. Just part of starting to commence to prepare to begin to get ready for the big occasion. I'm not looking forward to having it all done, but the results will make me decide whether I want to continue to live or not give a damn. At the present state, it is fifty-fifty. As has been said so many times, we all have to play the hand that we're dealt in life, but occasionally we're able to slip in a wild card, a joker, as it be. But the thing with wild cards, there are only so many in the deck, and I don't know if I've used my allotment.

Hell, I'm depressing myself. Gotta think positive; be a brave soldier.
-------------------------------------------
Something more positive.

I'm thinking of trying to get a few "twilight" photos this week with the new Canon.

I've taken my old Nikons out of the trunk where they've been for the past twenty years. They seem to be working well. The EM had to have a battery to get anything going. The FE shutter and mirror operate as they are supposed to on bulb and M90 settings, so it will probably be fine when I stick a new battery inside.
-------------------------------------------

Just back from the blood work thing. The sky is so blue and the mountains are clear of the usual haze.

Perfect Day!

Waiting For Your Message

I've decided that I want to get married again. You know; have two wives. A pigamist. Pigamist means hog-wild in love with two or more ladies. I sincerely believe that my heart has room enough to make two women happily miserable.

In my mind's eye, I can see that while one works, the other could be tending to my needs and vice versa. And when they both aren't working or fighting over me, what a good time could be had by all. Gosh, I don't think that—even at my age—I've sexually peaked. There's a lot of lovin' in me that's yet to be tapped. Of course I realize that I'm going to begin slowly losing my sex drive sometime in the next ten-to-twenty years. But what a state of euphoria and happiness I can bestow until it occurs.

Do you, young lady, want to be my new wife? I'll be wanting someone mature, say 40 years old on up to my age. One other thing; you gotta be hot. Sizzlin', that is. Of course, you'll have to start out as mate number two, but I'll be an equal opportunity husband. You, with diligence, can work your way up, so to speak.

I've not spoken with Carolyn about it yet, but I'm sure she will be pleased and supportive.

Nah; probably won't work. Having a couple of gals constantly fighting over me doesn't sound like a loving or readily workable type of relationship. We'd probably lose our respect for one another in no time. And I insist on being respected.

Still though, if you'd like to let me know what you think, or if you're interested in maybe a test run, leave a comment or email me.

Signed,
Anxious

Sounds conceited? Well, Ive a lot to be conceited about, thank you.

Went for a drive to Hunter's market on 107 and continued on through Dry Creek. The mountains on each side were, as always, breathtaking. The litter and junk cars along the creek were also breathtaking. So sad.

Back to town for a pizza and Pepsi. Consuming such, along with thinking about the junk cars and litter, has given me a bit of nausea.

Took one photo from in front of Greg's Pizza parlor, and posted it on Flickr. Dry Creek lies behind the background mountain in the pic.

I don't have any wise quotes for today. Actually, I've been feeling pretty dumb lately.

Friday

Glad to hear that Alice's sister is mending.

I felt well enough to get my shot and ease over to the VA to take a few photos.

When the light gets right, which is about now, I'll go back out and shoot a few more pics.

Everything else is the same, except for what has changed. That don't make any sense to me either, but...

Sickly today...

Run, Run, Run

I forgot to buy tags for the truck. They expired yesterday, so I've spent the morning waiting to get renewed.

A pair of robins are nesting atop one of my stereo speakers on the back porch. We've moved ourselves to the front porch until they get done with their family thing.

Still trying to get used to new camera. Too damned many buttons and readouts. Why can't they take an old film-type SLR body and change it over to a digital format? Because it would be cheap and easy! No money there.

I've spent nearly one-third of my life in one type of school or another. I feel that I am reasonably educated, if not too smart. But I reckon I'll have to spend some more time getting someone to teach me the intricate details of modern photography. It used to be that the photograph was the important part of the medium. Not any more. It is knowing which button(s) to push and which knob to turn.

The only good thing that I can see about the process is seeing the results almost immediately. Of course, Mr. Polaroid had that figured out nearly sixty years ago.