Escaping Anger

Shortly after arriving home yesterday, I received an email notifying me that there was a package waiting for me in the buildings office. Knowing that in was probably the latest batch of records I ordered from my favorite music distributor, I raced downstairs before even bothering to put my shoes back on. Upon breaking the seal of a vinyl reissue of a cherished demo from the late 80’s. I was somewhat shocked and dismayed to see one of my photos within a collage of others from the time. Shocked, considering I didn’t know how the record label acquired it. Dismayed considering I was never approached, notified, credited or compensated for its use. Feeling angry and somewhat betrayed, I knew I needed to get some fresh air. Over time, I’ve learned a lot about myself and managing I’ve often found that physically removing myself from a situations can go a far way towards easing any stress, tension or anger I might find myself being overwhelmed by. Luckily, with a park, lake and bay just minutes away, I’m able to do so. The chance to practice my tai chi, breathing techniques and take a few pictures can often change a mindset. In being able to combine all three, the thought of someone using a picture I took about thirty years ago seems pretty insignificant in the overall scale of things.

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A Little Help from my Friend

When we arrived at the beach, I was amazed to see a stable of horses assembled on the sands just steps away from the ocean. It was my first trip to the Pacific Ocean since my last trip to Japan in 2012 and my first ever glance from the United States. The horse were bused from a local stable and were close to ending their work day by the time we arrived. While I was eager to capture some images before they began their sojuorn home. I couldn’t help but think how cool this image would look without the rope that kept them from rushing forward. Upon arriving home, I inspected the photos I took before reaching out to my old friend and neighbor. (The one who basically taught me everything I know.) and asked him to magically remove those barriers that hold us back. While we’re here, I’d feel remiss if I were not to include a link to his work. I’ve attached before and after images below as a link to Kevin’s photography, Here

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The Strength Within

A few years back during a visit to my gastroenterologist,  he told me that he was just sharing with his secretary how inspired he was by me and my ability to bounce back from each medical setback, emerging stronger and a bit more wiser. Being that I had been seeing him for an entirely different set of challenges for close tot fifteen years, he had seen me move from one health setback to another. While I was taken aside and visibly humbled by  his words, all I could come up with was some gibberish about how, after all these years of fighting, I was tired and I wasn’t to sure I wanted to fight anymore. Note that this was a few years prior to my latest discovery of another brain tumor and being diagnosed with a neurological disorder that has no cure or known treatment.

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Still, to this day, I find myself fighting and adjusting to meet new challenges. Truth is, we’re all a lot stronger than we’ll ever give don’t give ourselves credit for. No matter what a person, or doctor tells you. It can’t override your desire, strength or determination to make the most out of what you have.To be happy with what you do have or can do and not to be preoccupied with the things you don’t.

Art is my Weapon

For as long as I can remember and most likely longer, I’ve always been surrounded and inspired by art. As a kid, my mom worked as a secretary for a huge advertising agency and would often bring home art books and have artistic nudes (Two of which I still own and proudly display in my own home.) hanging for all to see. Whether intended or not, it set me on a course that still inspires me to create, build and make things that I feel might be impactful.

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It’s worth noting that my Mother’s early influence and my trips to her midtown office, where I’d often find myself sitting in with the companies art department. It was those moments and exchanges that would play a major role in my early development, as well as becoming a major influence on my wanting to write and inevitably become interested in picking up a camera in order to document my surroundings. Many years later as childhood led to adolescence and adolescence led to adulthood., I can’t help but notice how much art and the desire to create still drives me. Now that my Mom is following my blog, it might be time to thank her and tell her that I understand and even partially agree when she says, “We’re a lot alike,.”

Last Words and their Indelible Impact.

I was living in Midtown Manhattan when my grandmother was hospitalized. The smart as whip, quick witted person I had known my whole life was quickly fading. and though I could not accept it at the time., was not returning home or even graduating to one of those old age homes that, at the time, had only seen in movies and on TV. With trips from the Broadway office where I worked quickly becoming a challenge. I decided to stay with my Dad in Staten Island, just blocks away from the hospital she had been admitted to.

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One weekend morning.as I held her fragile hand in mine. She turned to me and in a weakened voice inquiring about an incident I hadn’t thought of in close to twenty years. Referring to a second grade incident that I took the blame for but never played any part in or even witness. “Why did you throw that girl’s snow boots out the window?” Those words, the last she would utter before passing away served as a heavy burden I still carry today. Of all the things I did. The bloody noses and black eyes I gave out to those who came to me looking for a fight. The times I mouthed off to teachers or questioned the religious dogma we were being force fed. The one she took to the grave was the crime I never committed.

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While I still look back, dream and write about my childhood and growing up. Rarely do my dreams include the angel who played a pivotal role in my growing up and becoming a man. The few times she’s showed up in my dreams, her role mirrors that of her real life presence. Through thick and thin, my grandmother was always that of a care giver and a peace maker. Whereas she always comes up in conversation with my Dad and Step Mom. I often feel that I never had a chance to thank her for her infinite kindness, hard work and guidance. I promise to always be grateful and appreciative. Oh, and just a reminder. I never touched her boots.

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So Much for Anonymity.

Whenever someone likes one of my posts, leaves a comment or decides to follow the blog, I receive an email notification from wordpress. Though this has become standard for some time. I admit enjoying the sense of anonymity that comes along with the comfort zone that accompanies the feeling that I can share a thought, opinion or experience with people I don’t really don’t know. untitled (38 of 49)So, imagine the surprise when I checked my email this morning only to find out that my Mother was following me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love my mother and feel so lucky to have her in my life. That said, she does not and never has respected my rite to privacy and personal space. I have to admit, I had a lot of feelings regarding her visits and initial decision to click the follow button, including putting an end to the blog and refraining from continuing to post my darker, personal biography. In the end though, I’ve decided to stay the course and write whatever the fuck I want.

 

If These Walls Could…

I was planning to email my Mom with some pictures of the framed pictures we put up in the bathroom, but since she is now following the blog, I might as well post them here.

(These images were taken at a local Vietnamese restaurant / billiards hall. I refrained from using my flash so not to disturb the flow of the game while giving the players their respect and anonymity.)

If you’d like a clearer view of the pictures featured here. You can see them Here .

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As a kid, art had a very prominent place in our home. Though we did not have much money to speak of. My Mother’s knack for decorating and her relationship with the art department at the company she worked as a secretary. provided for many opportunities to bring home art and advertisement  poster prints. While my wife in completely foreign to the idea of art in the bathroom.  It’s something I became used to seeing by the time I was just starting elementary school.