Fresh fruit

Posted on April 17th, 2009 by george.
Categories: friends, fun, life, love.

Ladies and gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to your new favorite blog,!

Stop on over and say hi to Lorenia.  Maybe take a housewarming gift.  Or a pie.


This will make your day

Posted on March 12th, 2009 by george.
Categories: dreams, film, humor, life, love, music, video, youtube.

Discovered via Devon’s entry on soulpancake.  More on Oren Lavie here.  Funny that among his predecessors is Leonard Cohen.

1 comment.

It’s official!

Posted on November 12th, 2008 by george.
Categories: life, love, photography.

We’re married!

Paradise Beach

Now off to the Bahamas next weekend for the real party!


Nine slices, five seeds

Posted on September 11th, 2008 by george.
Categories: enlightenment, epiphany, future, history, life, love, music, synthesis.

Over the past few days I have been listening to Radiohead’s “Hail to the Thief” on the commute to and from work.  It strikes me that when I first played this album on the stereo, kicking back in my 70’s-era chartreuse La-Z-Boy (oh, how I miss that chair), looking out my bay window on the streetlights of Laurel Avenue, atop the ridge of Fort Sanders in arguably one of the most coveted properties for students at the University of Tennessee, surrounded by meticulously-tended gardens and rosebushes too often robbed of their blooms by passersby, that I didn’t like it.  It’s strange to have adored “Kid A” and “Amnesiac,” coming so hot on the heels of yet such a departure from Radiohead’s timeless masterwork “OK Computer,” only to have “Thief” stick in my craw.  At the time, I couldn’t place why it didn’t resonate; I’ve since heard that it was “thrown together” on a short schedule, and suffered from what some say is a lack of polish compared to previous efforts.  I now realize, after having “In Rainbows” wear ruts into my soul, pressing its melodies into the fiber of my being, rivaling the majesty of what to this point was my favorite album, that “Hail to the Thief” suffered only from lack of context.  It was simply ahead of its time; too raw, even though it was finished and complete, like a bridge suspended across a chasm whose far side has only now seen the tectonic plates of time grind past each other, lofting the perfect cliff into place under what seemed a terminus hanging in dead air.  The bridge to nowhere now emerges as a grand paean to the future as told by authors of the past, a gathering together of the sine wave of repeating history, a needle and thread through the wrinkled fabric of this collective consciousness, drawing tight the crevices to be filled with the golden light of meaning.



It dawns on me now that my love for this group of musicians was tied to the future more than I could imagine, their prescience wholly overshadowing my own, a hand reaching down and transcending the dimension of time, their glowing ladders of song rising out of the misty and dark swirls of this material world to the ethereal flights of the spirit.  I see too, now, that I have not yet fully appreciated my time in the city of my education, the lessons I learned in and outside the classroom, the mistakes I made and the choices I got right that have led me to this day, this moment, these words spilling forth over the banks of my stream, tumbling down white over the rocks of fortune.  Even for all its gray skies and cold nights, its mists and trials, its mazes and morasses, worn desks and defaced walls, I see that I loved that city, my time there, the people I shared it with, the sunshine they reflected that pierced the hazy air.  The rainbow arcs high and bright over the sapling of my existence now; for all their deep and abiding knowledge of past predicting future, I cannot recall a band that’s been through the hourglass that has enjoyed such lofty greatness for so long, or excelled so magnificently so late in their glorious career.


P.S. I’m getting married.




Posted on May 18th, 2008 by george.
Categories: life, love, poetry, space.

a soft night descends on a day haply spent
each redolent breath being heavenly sent
yet minds will conspire to question the love
mistaking for ravens the snowy white doves

the illusion of distance is seemingly vast
from ocean to sea, between future and past
but let go your worries; relinquish your frets
give up on your wagers, forsake all your bets

remember your smallness, recall well your place
a blue marble rider in limitless space
a warm, sunbathed planet upon which to roll
release your concerns for you’re not in control


Las nubes

Posted on February 12th, 2008 by george.
Categories: coincidence, enlightenment, epiphany, future, life, love, numbers, photography, poetry, prayer, serendipity, space, synthesis, travel.

low clouds drift over
her plunging arcs
helices adorn
her pure crystalline slopes
under the watchful eye
of the sliver of a crescent moon
Twin contrails
twin contrails cut across the sky
as they carve their way
through the forest
deeper into the heart
of the valley below
Through the forest
the great granite monolith
reigns regal over the valley
as the traveler departs the shores
of the great salt lake
both their heads in the clouds
Great salt lake
the hawk prays on detachment
in solitude above the clouds
that at the peak of the mountain
he should find his other wing
attached to an angel
Signs point to yes
he cannot cast his eyes
upon anything but signs
he is enveloped in assurance
his threading path is lit
by luminous rays
do you love me from the smallest ant
to the littlest loud?
su corazón pregunta
you mean cloud, he says
si, nube, she replies
James and Caytlin
do you like strawberries?
asks the little girl
after the traveler is diverted
from his prayers
I love strawberries, he responds
two women engaged in conversation
not a word of English between them
halt their cascade of Spanish to repeat
a single word foretold:
eleven arrives
to carry the weary traveler home
his head in the radio
as he reaches
mile marker 43
out of the corner of his eye
flow tears of certitude
leaving tracks on his cheeks
and crystals on the dry lakebed
of his heart
soft whimpers escape his lips
and with them his doubt
as the tortoise shell of his heart melts
and the delicate blossom of love
everything in the universe
every slice of time and space
every cause and effect
has led to this moment
numbers themselves were created
to add up to this love
exit 52 leads him home
he walks out to check the mail
but on the way to the box
stoops to pick up
an empty cup
standing up his eyes rise
and fix their gaze on a star
the brightest setareh in the sky
shining in brilliant splendor
as the clouds march by
he looks to his hand
as his disbelief evaporates
and in its stead he finds
16 ounces of truth
straight from the mountain top
Mountain top


Warbled melodies

Posted on January 28th, 2008 by george.
Categories: friends, life, love, poetry, travel.

From colonial villages comes forth the call
Cross goldenrod meadows in breezes of fall

The stage has been cleared and the hour is set
We’ll toast to the thrasher, we’ll feast and we’ll fete

From his oceanside home the cardinal flies
By ribbons of scarlet he knows he’s arrived

And jolly the happenings there to be had
Hats off to the thresher, a fine young lad

When mention is made of her, contrast is stark
He’d long since lost touch with the faraway lark

But right here she is where she’s been all along
In the robin’s red breast and in homage, his song

The cardinal smiles at such earnest young love
And calls upon blessings to rain from above

He wings his way home through the blackest of skies
The moon his companion to witness his sighs

The raven’s call rings out on every side
Bids softly the angels close tight their black eyes

His mind tumbles back on her soft swirling dance
The heat and the flame of ill-fated romance

The song of the shepherd sufficient to hook
His black sheep’s heart in its cradling crook

His thoughts fly away to the lands never seen
Their history ancient and playas serene

For the quetzal’s resplendence his heart doth yearn
But she sings in a language he’s not yet learned



Posted on January 2nd, 2008 by george.
Categories: love, poetry, space.

when days are short
when the sun departs
just as you greet him

when the long forgotten cold
steals back
and drives warmth underground
away from the cracked surface

when forty million kilometers
is two light minutes
what does it mean that your galaxy
is three million light years distant?

the very fiber of language and thought
breaks down
a thousand miles is far
but across the reaches of space?
long falls short

I cannot conceive of our separation

if fondness is a function of distance
try to fathom my love for you

1 comment.

Dan In Real Life

Posted on November 13th, 2007 by george.
Categories: film, humor, life, love.

I see a lot of movies. No, seriously. A lot. I’d estimate it at about 90% of major releases. One in ten I will refuse to see on principle, but even then, I see a lot of stinkers. And lately, I’m becoming more and more disturbed by violence in movies. Not that they’re getting more violent, which is arguable, but perhaps that I’m becoming more sensitive to portrayals of violence. Every day it becomes harder for me to see the artistic merit in or believe any justification for abusing the suspension of disbelief and inserting powerfully negative images of human depravity directly into the minds of millions of viewers.

Regardless of whether it’s something they “want to see,” or it’s “a reflection of the way things really are,” or “it sells popcorn.” But I digress.

I don’t get to see art films anymore. I saw as many as I could while at school in Knoxville, but now that I live on Merritt Island, the closest arthouse theater is nearly an hour away. I guess east Tennessee isn’t so backward after all, huh? I used to be 15 minutes from a theater that had ten art and independent films going at any one time. Take that, Orlando. But I’m digressing. Again.

All of this is to say: I love film. Really, really love it. I am passionate about it. I sometimes avoid previews so as to experience a movie fresh, with no hype or preconceptions.  I use movies as motivation to get in a six-mile bike ride.  I put up with a lot of dross just to make sure I don’t miss the gems.  I would write reviews if someone paid me to do it.  I’m giving you all this lead-in to prepare you for what I’m about to say.

If you haven’t seen Steve Carell and Juliette Binoche in the new film “Dan in Real Life,” go see it.  NOW.

I could wax poetic about the soundtrack (Sondre Lerche!), the setting and cinematography, the script, the acting, everything.  But I don’t want to spoil it for you.  Trust me when I say this:   this is the best romantic comedy of the past five years.  But even to pigeonhole it into that category is a disservice.  It’s also a family movie…but no.  It’s more than that.  This is one of those movies that defies genre.  This is film at its best:  a reflection of life.  What it is, and how we want it to be.  Projected.  Right there on the screen.

This movie is real.  It makes me want to have family gatherings like that.  It reminds me of the good times I’ve had with my family.  I couldn’t stop laughing at the sometimes delightfully subtle humor throughout the film.  I nearly cried three times.  But most of all, and I’m being completely genuine here:  this movie gave me hope.

I don’t own many DVDs.  I don’t watch many movies more than once.  Maybe 1 or 2%.  This is a film that I will add to my small library.  This is a film I would want my children to see.

Go see it.