China

If you have ever travelled to a foreign land where all of your preconceived notions of the place were challenged and turned on themselves with every turn of a corner and human encounter than you will understand just how difficult it is to impart the experience to another person. I don't want to sound cliche but you just have to walk the walk for yourself.
The sights, sounds and smells of both Shanghai and Beijing have left an indelible impression upon me and I would love to have the chance to deepen the experience in the future with another visit.

When you give yourself up to the streets of Shanghai you will discover as you walk along lanes that are scented with exotic spices, dust from massive construction projects, grease from makeshift sidewalk kitchens selling God knows what kind of food to those brave enough to partake of the fare and the occasional whiff of raw sewerage that seems to appear out of nowhere like a Limburger phantom.
You will also experience a curious mix of fabulously old neighborhoods lending their style and blending with modern architecture that boggles the imagination and leaves one feeling quite small and insignificant among the steel and glass creations that soar into the heavens.

Top:
The french concession, a burgeoning artsy area that is quickly becoming the place for foreigners to meet and where two scooters would have a difficult time passing each other.
Below:
The view from what is presently the world's tallest building. All of the towers in the foreground are over seventy stories tall and the buildings across the river are from a place called The Bund.

The only thing I will say about Beijing is that it will reassess your ideas of scale. The city is huge! And because of the Olympics it is also very well maintained. Chinese pride insisted on showing the west the finest of livery for the multitudes of visitors who flocked to see some of the world's finest athletes compete for fame. Little did they realize that the city was competing as well.
Do make it a point to visit this town. The great wall, the forbidden city, Tienanmen Square will all give you a a memory of something that was created with the idea that there are things bigger than the single individual. Bigger even than an entire generation. Things that can only be measured in millennia and even then we aren't quite certain that we are looking at it from the correct perspective. The place is a mystery; and all the better for it.

The big country

There are some things that trouble me, but I can't for the life of me think of a single thing to be concerned about right now.
I would love to tell you about everything, but that will have to wait.
All of my preconceptions of this country are changing and not only do I wish I could afford to stay here for another month or so writing essays on my thoughts (and getting paid for doing so) , but for the third time in my life the language barrier is causing me to go a little crazy. I will tell you all about it when I get back on Saturday

Thoughts from the feather duster.

Went for a ride on my motorbike this morning. Bright sunny morning with just a hint of Autumn in the air. Good for the soul. Good for the mind and body too. One of the best ways to unravel the knots of tension that form in your mind is to do something that you can do well. The feeling of confidence and relaxation is bettered by very few things in life.

Since I live among the mountains, the magnificent vistas that unravel before my eyes on a ride can be truly breathtaking. I mean that in the literal sense. Can you imagine travelling through the twists and turns of a country road, totally focused on the curves and sound of your machine as she works her way up and down the gears. You feel the road rise and take you forward, you reach into the gearbox and pull out as much power as the machine can deliver. The vibration tells you that all is in perfect harmony as you crest the hill and are greeted by a rolling lush plateau of verdant undergrowth and tress that are showing the barest tinge of rouge.

Summer is gone and now my thought are steerring me towards winter. Before the tress fully turn and create a landscape of intense, calico carpeting I have got to get through my semi annual cleaning. There is so much stuff that must be seperated into the "truly necessary" and "Junk" piles. There is also a blog that needs to be taken down since I haven't posted anything there for quite some time.

What do you like to do to clear out the cobwebs and clean up the flotsam that flows through life? I'll try to keep in touch over the weekend.

Talkin to the past.

Bloggy note: This post ought to have been posted three days ago, but due to some carelessness on my part, it didn't occur. Better late than never- please enjoy the following foolishness to the best of your ability. I will try and get back on line and visit you folks as soon as I can. TTFN


Soon, very soon, here in Japan, those of us who live in the here and now will be communing with those who reside in the shadow realm.
It is OBON time again and I will be disappearing for the next week or so.
This year I have special reason to light the welcoming beacon and wait for the past to catch up with me.
Once again I will be doing my best to reconcile the world I was raised in; with the culture of my choice. It is a challenge to make the summer in Japan feel like it did when I lived in New York. First of all I plan on doing the traditional Bon Odori- a special dance that serves as a fertility rite and aphrodisiac. I am hoping the farmers will offer me their daughters . It has always been my dream to be breeding stock.

The festivities don't stop there!
I intend to engage in a very ritualistic event that involves the placement of a hard, spherical object into a designated receptacle. This is done with an assortment of tools all specially designed to ensure the exact placement of said dimpled sphere.
Some find this to be one of the highest religious events that can occur in one's life and it has been said that many a faith has been broken by unfavorable results.

Another incredible summer event will be the roasting of sacrificial animals over a bed of hot coals. A variety of meats, specially chosen, will be carefully prepared by the keepers of the holy ember. Here in Lilliput, there are men who believe that the outdoor cooking of meats, poultry and fish must engage in a fanatical discussion of the proper way to build the fire and condition the meats for consumption.
This must be washed down with copious amounts of very cold beverages containing a psychotropic element.
One must be careful when indulging in such festivities. Accidents have occur ed and many embarrassing moments have been recorded on film and distributed to the world via YouTube.

It all amounts to getting away from life's hairy bullshit and enjoying the heat and sunshine that comes with global warming.

I sincerely hope that all of you will do your very best to ditch work and enjoy the sultry, summer insanity

Who needs the GhostBusters?

I am a 100% bona-fide, tie-dyed in the wool, super hero!
That's right! I am not joking.
I ought to get a pair of tights and some ridiculous footwear and go professional or at least see if I can join the local chapter of the union.

I am a super hero! There's no doubt about it. Not some kinda secret one either. The whole neighborhood knows about it. Men want to shake my hand and women want a lock of my hair. Children want to be like me and my when my wife talks about me, her eyes glisten in teary happiness and pride.

Some folks see me this way.

I am a super hero! Now I guess this is going to have to be explained for not everyone is prepared to accept that statement at face value. Not even my cat, Leonine, and she was witness to the entire episode.

Images are derived from a great amount of poetic licence

Are you ready? Do you have your popcorn and beverage?

I am a super hero!

And we'll see if you agree with me. Yesterday morning I woke up and was feeling like I did on almost any other morning, especially on a Monday morning. I didn't want to get up. I thought that sleeping in would have been the more comfortable of two evils and, but alas I had to take my beast to the vet, so I made my way through the murky morning routine and got my butt into gear and out of the house.



I am a super hero!

For while I was waiting for the light to turn green at the rather busy intersection at the bottom of the hill from where my residence is located, I spied a dachshund running willy nilly across the road and out into the middle of traffic!



I am a super hero!

Because without any thought for either Leonine's safety nor mine nor anyone else's, I ran that red light and Chased that dog down the road in my car. He (of course I knew it was a "he", I am a super hero! )Had crossed the center line and was rushing straight for a city bus - Girls hold on to your boyfriends here- With my horn blaring I drove up the wrong side of the road and got the bus to stop then before the dumb ass dog could go any further I blocked off traffic with my van and jumped out of the car.



I am a super hero! It's true! I was not hampered by the constant wailing of the feline in the passenger seat nor by any sensible thoughts that would run through a lesser man.

This is not the actual dog

I got the dog into a cul de sac and after an indeterminable moment I got my hands on the collar. After soothing the creatures frayed nerves I wrapped him up in a blanket (Super hero's are prepared for everything.) and drove both little lost doggie and noisy cat to the veterinarian. A little girl super hero caught up to me after I had already captured the pooch and her mother followed shortly thereafter. They were hampered by traffic laws that I decided to ignore.

This is just a picture I found on the Internetnot the real dog.

I am a super hero! Not because I saved that darned dogs life. But because that dumb-ass dog was blind! Literally!! The doctor knew who the owner was and contacted him right away. He'd been lost for a night and a day and when I met the owner it was all I could do not to use my super strength and knock him silly.

They ought to put up a statue of the pup.

I may not actually be a super hero, but yesterday, for a short time I felt like one.

Bored. Yeah, so what else is new.

like everyone else, I get bored.
When that happens, I get silly. I have done so many stupid things in my life in order to keep ennui at a distance that I am surprised that I haven't spent more time in the emergency room than I already have.

Some of the things done to prevent the onset of the doldrums:
Garbage diving while very drunk on Wray and Nephews overproof rum.
Climbing a seven story scaffold to pull down a sign.
Jumping out of an airplane. (I did have help with that one.)
Cliff diving at a place called the Devil's Hole near Bear Mountain state park. I also slid down a waterfall on the same day.
Bushwhacking through rattlesnake country in Yosemite.
Walking naked- well almost naked in sub zero temperatures in a winter festival in Japan.

Stupid, yet fun. That's what I am all about.

103

I took this test and I answered the questions as best as I could. Never expected this as the result.

Your result for The What's your sexual style? Test...TYPE P

You are a KINKY, CONFIDENT, DOMINANT lover who prefers to give.

This means that:

You like relatively kinky sex, and you have the great imagination that will always keep your partner guessing and excited! There's no getting bored with you around, you could never settle for dull sex, you want something fun and new all the time. You aren't afraid to try out anything you hear about. You might just be an intelligent lover who needs to be mentally engaged, or perhaps you have some dirty dark secret kinky desires, but either way, you're never boring.

You are pretty confident in bed. This means that you know you can please your lover. Maybe you've read a lot of sex manuals, or have the experience from previous lovers, or just tend to be skilled at whatever you get your hands on, but you're good and you know it. You can really get results and know that you have pure talent, so you won't be hiding away shy, pretending to be all innocent. Your partners love your naughty self assurance, you don't hesitate and this makes you a sensational lover.

You tend to be dominant in bed, so you prefer to be the one giving the orders than taking them. Maybe you like the power, or just like controlling the pace, perhaps your partner likes to be dominanted, or maybe you get a kick out of the whole master/slave relationship, it could be something as small as liking to be on top during sex and tie up your lover to tease them, or it could be as kinky as them having to ask your permission to do anything at all. Either way, you are firm and you enjoy it!

You prefer to give than recieve. This makes you a very unselfish lover, devoted to the needs of your partner rather than your own. You get your pleasure from seeing them get theirs, you are a model sex partner. I'm sure plenty of people would love to have someone like you in bed with them! Remember though that if your partner gets pleasure from returning the favour it's okay to let them, they might love giving as much as you do!

WE SUGGEST YOU:
get into some slightly more hardcore fantasy territory. Go for bondage in a not so light and fluffy way and discover just what you really like. Want to play master/slave games? Want to be tied up or tie someone up, in just enough discomfort that they don't quite relax? Want to try a threesome? Maybe you'd even like to try out sado-masochism. It's your call. Whatever you do, unleash that kinky thing you've always really wanted to try and give it a go, you're a great lover, and you know it, up for anything, generous, imaginative, confident, and happy to go for what you want, so enjoy.

If you are bored you can waste some time finding out about your sexual nature.Take The What's your sexual style? Test at HelloQuizzy

Hey! It's Prince spaghetti day!!

Really now, that bit of flash is getting me depressed and although I am very thankful for all of your comments and warmth and messages of love, the inevitable must and will happen. Now I reckon that it's about time that I stopped being maudlin. I am dredging up another story and although it's a bit of a read, I am hoping it will eradicate any and all of the darkness and leave you all with a bit of lightness.

*Authors note: I am not a professional writer and pretty much everything I put here is unpolished and often unfinished, so please pardon the errors or sloppiness that you are certain to find. If you think you've seen this before, you are right. This is not the first time I have posted this...

104

Some stories once heard, are impossible to forget. I’m not talking about great classics of literature or stupendous cinematic epics. I’m talking about the kind of tale you heard at the dinner table one night after the dishes were cleared away or something a person related to you over a cup of coffee in an overcrowded all-night diner at three o clock in the morning. Yarns shared around the campfire and on long drives seem to stick with me far longer than the stuff I read in books.
My father was a drinking man; foul mouthed and quick with his hands, he never let an insult slide and corrected a breach of manners with the back of his hand. He never had any qualms about cheating a man out of his money at a card table and would go out his way to rile any priest, preacher or rabbi he met.
Strange as it may seem he was also the kind of guy that all the kids in the neighborhood loved. One of those tough and rumble guys that kids saw right through and knew that if they timed things right, they could get him to spring for a round of ice cream when the Good Humor man came around.
At home he was tight with money. That guy could squeeze blood from a quarter. I once overheard my mom say to my older brother when she didn’t realize that I was in my bedroom reading comics, “He’d eat shit twice to save a buck.” To avoid spending anything he’d go out and get a whole carton of eggplant and cook up a dozen trays of eggplant parmesan. We ate that stuff for what seemed an eternity. I never had to ask what was for dinner. My mom would just pull another frozen block of food and leave it on the kitchen counter every morning before she went to work and we’d pop it into the oven before she got home from work. To this day I can’t eat the stuff. I can’t even sit next to a table where someone else is eating it.
Dad liked his pretenses. Cheap as he was with his own family, he’d give the shirt off his back to a relative stranger and if someone needed a helping hand around the house he would be the first to show up with his toolbox in hand to fix whatever there needed to be fixing or move whatever needed moving, especially if the woman of the house was a looker. I had heard on a number of occasions that my dad was quick to make his services available and as I grew older I came to understand why there were some friends homes that I wasn’t welcome in any longer.
Eventually the late night arguments about the booze, the gambling and the indiscretions as well as the violence, both in and outside of the house came to a head and my mom squeezed it the way a teenager pops a recalcitrant zit on his chin. My father was given his walking papers and told to never darken our doorstep again. He didn’t go quietly, not quietly at all, but with some coaxing by my brother and a baseball bat-he went.
I did not see my father again for many years. He lived in the same city, but he might have been in Borneo. He didn’t make much of an effort to visit and it wasn’t until much later that I discovered that he was willing to wait until I was ready to come to him and if that never happened, well, that was just how things were meant to be.
I grew up and in the course of doing the things that happen to people I met and married my first wife. Shortly after we had settled down into our own little lives, the subject of my father came up. While we were dating I didn’t speak about the man and after a few failed attempts at finding out about him, she learned not to ask. Now as a wife she felt that she could broach the subject and not worry about upsetting me. After fishing around the subject for a couple of days she just plain flat out told me that if he were alive and hadn’t done me any real wrong doing than it was just plain stupid not to go and see him. I was startled to find myself agreeing with her and picked up the phone then and there and dialed his number. It was as simple as that. One short phone call was all it took.　We made plans to meet on the following Saturday afternoon

As The weekend approached I started to feel the apprehension grow and build like a bad case of heartburn. My inability to concentrate at work was matched by an ever increasing testiness around my wife. The very idea of meeting a man; who for the most part, was almost a complete stranger, yet partly responsible for my entrance on to the stage of life was becoming more and more like the way you feel when your boss calls you into his office after a major screw up at work

Saturday arrived and you couldn’t have asked for a better day. The leaves on the trees had turned the neighborhood into a panoply of colors and it was still warm enough that you could wear a sweater under a jean jacket and be plenty comfortable. We arrived at my fathers place, a garden apartment with a beautifully kept garden in front. Seeing it reminded me of springtime when I was a kid and my dad used to drag me to the nursery on Sunday mornings to help him carry out the seedlings, soil and fertilizer for the garden he’d kept when we were still all together.





Sitting at the dinner table with half of a bottle of Dewar's between us My father started to open up to me in the only way he knew how. Through stories. A born raconteur, I believed that he could sell ice to Eskimos and turn a profit. The particular part of his life that he decided to share with me was the time he'd spent in Europe during the war.

Dad was not a hero. He didn't like the army and would do anything that he could to avoid anything that looked like work or that seemed dangerous. You might say that he spent more time dodging MPs than he did bullets. He had a penchant for "finding" things and then trying to make a little money on the side, so that he and his buddies could afford the finer things that army life provided.
Near the end of his duty he found himself in a small Italian city whose name I can't recall, it is lost, slipped between the warp and weft of my memories and not all that important anyway. Father and his cronies were in trouble again and this time they weren't quick enough to avoid being caught doing something that they shouldn't have been doing by his Sergeant. This provided him and two of his mates with the responsibility of setting up sanitary services for the all of the platoons that were sharing the hospitality of that particular, nameless, Italian burg. The two most valued things to a serviceman, aside from his physical well being, is a place to shower and a place to shit. Squatting in a field, day after day or crapping in a hole that's been used by dozens of other men can't possibly be something you look forward to.
Given the honor of setting up the latrine something dad was not a stranger to. He didn't like the idea of spending the day shoveling dirt and laying planks over a ditch that he would have to, at a later date fill in and cover over with the very same dirt that he'd already shovelled once before. Instead of doing things by the book, he and the other two morons went into a bombed out building and requisitioned any existing commodes from their crumbling home. They then positioned them over several holes along the street that they, in their infinite wisdom, believed to be drainage ducts leading into the sewer system. Voila! the perfect system. All they had to do when they were ready to move out was to knock down the partitions and put the grates back over the holes when finished. No muss no fuss.
The crappers were a success. For the next ten days, everyone in the outfit took a dump in relative luxury. The trio strutted around with self satisfied expressions on their smug faces thinking that not only did they provide the guys with the finest sanitary conveniences, but they did so with a minimum amount of work and no more effort than it took to carry a shit stool out of a building and into the street.
It doesn't take a great amount of imagination to consider the amount of shit that was being deposited by all the military personnel. Over the course of time, the quantity of material aggregating beneath the streets of the city must have been staggering.
Then came the night that everything hit the fan. Literally. The Germans were still active and decided to pay a visit to the town. Both sides had plenty of bombs to be dropped on and it would seem such a waste to let the war end when there were still perfectly good munitions lying around. The air raid sirens alerted the citizens and soldiers alike propelling them into action with one main difference; the GIs took up fighting positions, manning anti aircraft guns and preparing for battle and the populace ran for cover into the air raid shelter. Every man woman and child, every last person including the Mayor himself, grabbed what they thought was important and made the mad dash for what they thought was the safest place to be.
As the bombs began dropping residents stampeded into the tunnel and right into ten days of U.S. regulation, non-com crapola. The forward surge, fueled by fear, was such that those in front, had no opportunity to stop the onslaught from the rear, ending up in what can only be considered a most ignominious situation. Those who followed had to choose between the horrible stench in front and the possibility of being blown to bits by the falling bombs that were being graciously provided by the German air force. It seems that bombs can be a fantastic motivation and the entire town spent most of the night in the shelter.

My father never mentioned just how much trouble he got into for turning an air raid shelter into a cistern of sewerage. But you can determine for yourself just how upset the mayor of the city was when the Germans finished their work and went home for a shot of schnapps and some sausage. There were words and gesticulation and condemnation that of course rolled downhill as shit is wont to do, piling up upon the shoulders of the intrepid trio who spent quite a long time shoveling out all the crap that was not carried away by the citizens on their clothing and person. Although at the time it was a gruesome task, my dad told me that every time from that day forward; whenever he picked up a shovel, the image of the infuriated mayor ranting and raving, stomping his feet and covered from head to toe with ten days worth of American shit, never failed to make him crack up inside.

and to all a good night.

Cheers from Prometheus!

Got to have my pizza

There must be a million Santa's in this town!

last minute tree shoppers.

There is so much to tell you of my time back home, but there isn't time to write it all down. I have asked Scary Monster to come by and leave a STOMP for everyone, but he is even busier than I and hasn't said yes or no. Tonight is Christmas eve and the people all around have somewhat softened. There is an indeniable patience and kindness that has settled on the city.

It's nice to be here and to experience it, but I only wish it could be like this all year round. New York is something different during Christmas and New Years.

I'll be back in Japan before the year rings out so you will be getting a different sort of pictures next week.

Merry Christmas All!

On the streets where you live

Walking down the street; I'm wondering how long it will take me not to notice all the trash in the streets; the cigarette butts, tossed flyers, the abandoned plastic bottles, cans and paper cups.
Each footfall brings me further along and I can see clearly what it is that is beautiful about the city. I spend hours strolling around town when I get here. First of all it helps to get over the jet lag by sweating out the poisons and secondly it get my street sense and timing back. once you are back in tune with the rythms of the city then you are able to move freely and stop worrying about the obstacles around you. If you can see the patterns in the movemnt of people, bicycles and rogue taxis than you can focus on the things that will present themselves to you.

Here are some pictures I took today.

What's Christmas in New York without Frosty, Bagels and wonderful sunsets.

Boids, boids everywhere- New york's bravest.

gettin around.

Lincoln Center and Starbucks.

*&%$#$@$%^ Northwest Airlines!!!!!

It's always a good thing to be able to tell the difference between a real problem and an inconvenience. Real problems are the kind of things that turn your life on it's head and all the other stuff is merely a temporary annoyance.
Stated simply; I love to go places. I work very hard to be able to get myself out of familiar surroundings and the daily hum drum that makes up much of my life and expose myself to a different reality for a short time or long. Like many people out there, they're are things that I do not enjoy about the actual "getting to" of travel. Everyone who likes to travel or who has to travel has a horrific airline story and in many ways they are all similar. The tales of actually getting to the airport, getting through security, finding the right ticket counter, getting your bags all settled in and the interminable wait before the magic words
'We are now boarding flight blah blah blah to __________________ .'
Of course you put in you own destination, this time mine was Detroit. In fact, most of today's post was written on my cell phone while waiting in the Motor City airport because my connecting flight was delayed for more than an hour and I had nothing better to do with my time than sit in a shitty airport bar, chain smoking and drinking a $7 beer, $7! $8 if you count the tip.
Before I get ahead of myself I really must go back about fifteen hours or so to where the start of my journey began. Moving from one place to another often instills a sense of apprehension within me and when that happens I like to relax with a smoke. Japan used to be very smoker friendly, but that isn't the case anymore. There is no smoking car on the bullet train nor on the Narita express which I find ridiculous. Smoking may be a disgusting habit, but there ought to be at least one car out of ten that allows you to enjoy your vice in the company of other addicts. After all, the cars are separate and if you don't want to sit there it's your choice.
I can understand, even though I don't like it, why they have banned the puffing of tobacco on airplanes. You're in a tube with wings and everyone has to share the same air. That's why I believe that farting should also be banned. The guy sitting in front of me could have fueled the plane on his noxious effluvia.

Aside from the inability to partake in one of my vices I made my way through all the crapola and boarded my plane without any major mishaps and yes, I am thankful for that. My seat was well toward the back of the plane and I was thinking about the frustrating wait when I would disembark some twelve hours in the future.
When I got to my seat I was pleasantly surprised to find my overhead compartment empty. WOW! It absolutely drives me batty when someone from another row has stuffed all their shit into the space above my head just so they don't have to carry it down the aisle later on. Doing the usual things that folks do before take off, I took out my book and assorted necessities and settled in. Looking around I discerned the anathema of the airways, babies. I was literally surrounded by babies. There were seven kids sitting near me and six of them cried throughout most of the flight. There was almost no lull in the aural assault. Once one had taken a break from belting out their airborne aria another would kick in. The in flight "radio" was broken so I couldn't even stopper my ears with music. Why, oh why didn't I take my music player with me? About forty minutes after takeoff drinks were served. Now after forking over close to one weeks salary for the ticket, not to mention the surcharge for fuel; they wanted to charge me $5 bucks for a sip of whiskey. WTF?!
Since I needed something, anything to calm my nerves, which were unraveling at an exponential rate, I forked over ten bucks for two tiny shots of Jack Daniels and knocked them both back in one sweet slug of belly warming splendor.
Eventually I started to relax and then the dinner service started. You usually get a choice of foods, you know, 'Would you like the chicken or the Asian beef?' My stewardess was extremely efficient and simply said as she plopped the tray on my table top, 'we have beef.' I'm kinda glad I didn't get a choice because I tend to worry over predicaments like that. I spent the next twenty or thirty minutes playing with the mystery meat and broccoli sludge until the roll jumped up on top of the chocolate cake and told me to stop. Then it went over to the cup of coffee and proceeded to slap him around a bit. It might have been a different story if the coffee was strong enough to defend itself.

I'm glad I made it to New York. I was certain that I had arrived when the very first thing that happened as I left the arrivals lounge was that some guy came over and bummed a smoke from me.
Not wanting to mess around with buses and such I decided to take a cab home. Traffic was ruthless and unforgiving, but my cabbie was a real hustler and caused much horn honking as he bobbed and weaved through traffic like O.J. Simpson in those old Avis commercials.

It doesn't really matter what happens to you as one makes their way home so long as when you get there a six pack of cold beer and a pizza with pepperoni on it are waiting for you...

To be continued.

I didn't make it for Chanukah, but..

I'll be home for Christmas.
That's really a small consolation. So small as to make it seem a booby prize, but it ain't.
It's been close to three years since I have set foot in New York.
New York the very name of that place sends shivers down my spine, gives me goose bumps and makes my lovely scrotum tighten. I wish I could say that I am going there for myself, but then I would be lying. I didn't plan on this trip. In fact getting ready for this voyage has been one great big pain in the ass. (Don't take that personally, O.)
Some things are bigger than you. No matter how much you believe that you are God's gift to mankind and the best thing to happen since sliced bread; there are many things that leave you feeling small and insignificant in the face of them.
One of them is true friendship. My friend called and I couldn't refuse the summons. I have refused the beckoning of people many a time in my life, but this time the bonds that tie my heart to another's are far to strong to let anything stand in my way if I can be of assistance
There is a bonus to all this , I do get to see my family and partake in some of the best food that can be found anywhere in the world. I plan on taking so many pictures of the city that many folks just might mistake me for a tourist, which in a way I am.
The year is waning and all of us are either thinking about the future or reconciling ourselves with the past. No matter how or who with the final days of the year are spent; it's always a good idea to take a moment or two and realize, with a shake of your head and half a chuckle on your lips, that we're not meant to understand it all.
Have a happy holidays.
I'm Goin home!

Getting in tune

Scroll down for the starting post in the series.

There are so many ways to escape the day to day doldrums of life that I find it inconceivable that anyone could be bored with their existence.

Of course it becomes easier when you are surrounded by natural wonders and wholesome beauty.

Five days in Hawaii ain't enough time to get your bearings, but it does give you a chance to shift gears and put yourself on cruise control.

Our first stop was the north shore. On the way is the famous DOLE plantation, home of the worlds largest maze, so we decided to stop off and see which one of the four of us could finish the maze first.

Next we drove around the coast visiting every beach we could find and taking in the majesty of the islands scenery.

A quick stop to devour the local eats.

Tropical nights.

Crispy and I spent the second day with each other at the beach.

glorious sun, sand and surf.

Got together with the monster and his vixen for drinks. Woah, can that boy party!

This trip was a blast! It was really good to get away and hook up with a friend, get some quiet time with my lady and not worry about the stuff I usually carry around with me. I don't know when I'll get the chance to do it again, but for now I have to say it's good to be home again.