It never hurts to ask. Unless you ask for hurt.
Takayuki Ikkaku, Arisa Hosaka and Toshihiro Kawabata provided the great title quote. Plus, it is so thoroughly zen. And, since we seem to be paying homage to Japanese wisdom, try this one on for size: The reverse side also has a reverse side. - Japanese Proverb
I wound up with about 10 hours to kill on Friday. I was in Boston, but didn't have to be. So I asked my buddy who lived there where a cool little beach town might be. I had thought maybe Saugus, but after he described it to me, it sounded like the Soprano's opening credits scenery. He suggested Newbury and/or Salisbury. Sounded good to me and, he continued, it was only 30 minutes or so up I-95 to get there. So I programmed "Newbury, town of - city center" in the Hertz SELDOM-LOST GPS system. Then I chose the "least use of freeways" option. I mean, hey, I took his advice on where to go. Just not on how to get there. Because if I have learned nothing else in life, I have learned that for me, it is less about the being there and more about the getting there. All the good stories are found along the road.
I took Route 133 and Route something else (remembering stuff, especially numbers, is not my forte) until I got to Newburyport and Plum Island. Plum Island was pretty boring, and by that I mean really, really boring. But Newburyport, which is different from Newbury in a way that was not readily apparent to me, was pretty much what I was looking for. Quaint and New Englandy by design (it was established in 1971, as opposed to 1671 like a lot of the surroundings), you could park and walk. It had quirky shops, and neighborhood drug stores; high tone and studiously casual dining; and watering holes for every stripe. I had a burger and fries, with a yellow curry dip for the fries that I never would have expected, and a cold Hoegarten draft. I sat there eating and watching tourists walk by on the sidewalk. I was stoked.
The ride through Massachusetts, a state I can only spell with great concentration, was beautiful. Forests and fields and even, dare I say it?, swamps! They looked like actual swamps to me, albiet probably sans alligators, although there may be a different local word for them. Anyhow, the ride certianly had it going on. The weather was a nice mid-80s and there was no humidity to speak of. I had the windows down and a station out of Waltham that would stick a country song, maybe two, between each endless string of commercials.
I want to go to Maine. Of course, it will be a summer trip. But I think I will drive.
Life limped along at subsonic speeds, out
Ramblin' Ed
The Hull River from the bank. Or actually, from out on the trunk of a horizontally growing tree whilst thinking how suckful it would be to fall in.
Newburyport walking market. Or whatever they called it. It was a decent place to kill an afternoon.
Gotta love a city limits that looks like this. It was a very beautiful and relaxing drive to crank the rented generic white Chevy Impala up to 50mph, set the cruise control, and stick to the backroads. Word.
A what, driftwood boat-igator? Gator clipper? Don't know. It was the only interesting thing on Plum Island. It was in somebody's yard.
"How can you not stop and have yourself some grog when the opportunity presents itself?", I thought. I found out how. When the joint is closed you get no grog.
My initial reaction: "Huh??"
I wound up with about 10 hours to kill on Friday. I was in Boston, but didn't have to be. So I asked my buddy who lived there where a cool little beach town might be. I had thought maybe Saugus, but after he described it to me, it sounded like the Soprano's opening credits scenery. He suggested Newbury and/or Salisbury. Sounded good to me and, he continued, it was only 30 minutes or so up I-95 to get there. So I programmed "Newbury, town of - city center" in the Hertz SELDOM-LOST GPS system. Then I chose the "least use of freeways" option. I mean, hey, I took his advice on where to go. Just not on how to get there. Because if I have learned nothing else in life, I have learned that for me, it is less about the being there and more about the getting there. All the good stories are found along the road.
I took Route 133 and Route something else (remembering stuff, especially numbers, is not my forte) until I got to Newburyport and Plum Island. Plum Island was pretty boring, and by that I mean really, really boring. But Newburyport, which is different from Newbury in a way that was not readily apparent to me, was pretty much what I was looking for. Quaint and New Englandy by design (it was established in 1971, as opposed to 1671 like a lot of the surroundings), you could park and walk. It had quirky shops, and neighborhood drug stores; high tone and studiously casual dining; and watering holes for every stripe. I had a burger and fries, with a yellow curry dip for the fries that I never would have expected, and a cold Hoegarten draft. I sat there eating and watching tourists walk by on the sidewalk. I was stoked.
The ride through Massachusetts, a state I can only spell with great concentration, was beautiful. Forests and fields and even, dare I say it?, swamps! They looked like actual swamps to me, albiet probably sans alligators, although there may be a different local word for them. Anyhow, the ride certianly had it going on. The weather was a nice mid-80s and there was no humidity to speak of. I had the windows down and a station out of Waltham that would stick a country song, maybe two, between each endless string of commercials.
I want to go to Maine. Of course, it will be a summer trip. But I think I will drive.
Life limped along at subsonic speeds, out
Ramblin' Ed
The Hull River from the bank. Or actually, from out on the trunk of a horizontally growing tree whilst thinking how suckful it would be to fall in.
Newburyport walking market. Or whatever they called it. It was a decent place to kill an afternoon.
Gotta love a city limits that looks like this. It was a very beautiful and relaxing drive to crank the rented generic white Chevy Impala up to 50mph, set the cruise control, and stick to the backroads. Word.
A what, driftwood boat-igator? Gator clipper? Don't know. It was the only interesting thing on Plum Island. It was in somebody's yard.
"How can you not stop and have yourself some grog when the opportunity presents itself?", I thought. I found out how. When the joint is closed you get no grog.
My initial reaction: "Huh??"Thin Man 16OCT82
Thin Man you've lived a melodious tune
A life very much like my own
Your fingers they dance on a guitar so worn
You mesmerized me with your story
Brother, I've followed those stars in my eyes
call your patience a virtue, I'm sure
As you sail the breeze, set your course as you please
laying visions, like treasures, before me
I've seen your eyes swelling with tears, for you love
a passion burns deep in your heart
You share it with others, can't hold it within
It crashes like waves on the shoreline
I cherish that piece of your soul that you gave me
though I'd rather you called it a loan
I'll be bringing it back in a brown paper sack
for a man has a need for his soul
Thin Man you've given me pleasures I've taken
As far as Siam, as they say
It's a magical thing that you do with your strings
You mesmerize me with your story
Remember, our paths intersect at a point
When they do, then I'll see you again
Call it our fate, call it damnable breaks
or just coming to terms with our glory
Ed
I used to want to be able to write obliquely like the Beatles when they did things like Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds (LSD). I have a few like that, but this next one made the best song. Perhaps it's not as clever as I thought it was back in '82. That happens a lot.
The Prince of Paper Promises
Can you hear it stalking
dancing up and down your spine
the fear is so exciting, but
the guilt is solely mine
the words I know by heart
but the tune is just a ghost
I'm the prince of paper promises
the king has been dethroned
Did you hear the sixguns blazing
deep within the night?
Did you hide the evening's sorrow
in the haze behind your eyes?
'Cause even as you run away
the lonely bandit smiles
you know its just a sixgun
and he knows you're just a child
And did you read the papers?
Two young lovers bit the dust
such unholy desperados
one more notch is born of lust
the sun is setting slowly
wild, young sons are rising fast
the first step is the longest
and it just may be your last
It gets so hard to smile
when you're only 21
when you know that it's all over
though it seems you've just begun
the laugh tracks cannot cover
those last tracks that you laid
not the life you asked for
but the one you made
You were a knight in shining armor
as the rust ate through your heart
you went tripping through the windowpane
and finished at the start
the orange sunshine begged you
to come worship on the coast
then forgot to bring along the dreams
and that's what hurt the most
Ed San Diego/Ocean Beach
Thin Man you've lived a melodious tune
A life very much like my own
Your fingers they dance on a guitar so worn
You mesmerized me with your story
Brother, I've followed those stars in my eyes
call your patience a virtue, I'm sure
As you sail the breeze, set your course as you please
laying visions, like treasures, before me
I've seen your eyes swelling with tears, for you love
a passion burns deep in your heart
You share it with others, can't hold it within
It crashes like waves on the shoreline
I cherish that piece of your soul that you gave me
though I'd rather you called it a loan
I'll be bringing it back in a brown paper sack
for a man has a need for his soul
Thin Man you've given me pleasures I've taken
As far as Siam, as they say
It's a magical thing that you do with your strings
You mesmerize me with your story
Remember, our paths intersect at a point
When they do, then I'll see you again
Call it our fate, call it damnable breaks
or just coming to terms with our glory
Ed
I used to want to be able to write obliquely like the Beatles when they did things like Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds (LSD). I have a few like that, but this next one made the best song. Perhaps it's not as clever as I thought it was back in '82. That happens a lot.
The Prince of Paper Promises
Can you hear it stalking
dancing up and down your spine
the fear is so exciting, but
the guilt is solely mine
the words I know by heart
but the tune is just a ghost
I'm the prince of paper promises
the king has been dethroned
Did you hear the sixguns blazing
deep within the night?
Did you hide the evening's sorrow
in the haze behind your eyes?
'Cause even as you run away
the lonely bandit smiles
you know its just a sixgun
and he knows you're just a child
And did you read the papers?
Two young lovers bit the dust
such unholy desperados
one more notch is born of lust
the sun is setting slowly
wild, young sons are rising fast
the first step is the longest
and it just may be your last
It gets so hard to smile
when you're only 21
when you know that it's all over
though it seems you've just begun
the laugh tracks cannot cover
those last tracks that you laid
not the life you asked for
but the one you made
You were a knight in shining armor
as the rust ate through your heart
you went tripping through the windowpane
and finished at the start
the orange sunshine begged you
to come worship on the coast
then forgot to bring along the dreams
and that's what hurt the most
Ed San Diego/Ocean Beach
That's what I'm about. Ramblin' Ed at 8:31 PM
2 comments:
I used to live in Ipswich which you would have wandered through in your getting to Newbury. Had you asked me I would have suggested you stop at Zumi's for a caffeinated beverage before you continued on your way. But I would have still sent you to Plum Island because you asked for beach and they've got it. For quaint New England Seaside town see also Rockport which is the other way on 133 plus a little 127 thrown in for good measure. Fun roads for the bike.
Well, when I arrived at work, all starched and pressed, I found myself eerily alone. A quick calculation on my fingers, eyes focused up in concentration and the tip of my tounge peeking out, slightly askew, brought me to the conclusions that a) I had 10 or 11 (dang inaccurate finger math) hours before I needed to be at the airport and, b)I wasn't spending none of it by myself at work.
I polled everyone I knew within a 25 foot radius and came up with those two towns, no caffiene stops or coffee shoppes. Had you been in closer proximity, you'd... well, you'd have been lost.
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