I LIKE FALL! So… I took some pictures. Nothing groundbreaking… mostly just therapeutic.
I’ve been rather maniacally creative lately… I blame that on a self-psychosomatically induced love of my favorite season: autumn; and the fact that it is such season (at the time of writing this). Most of my art’s visual, but I thought I’d try my hand at music tonight (I used to “compose” digital music all the time, but it’s been years). Be gentle, it’s been awhile.
So, no shit, I just meditated and had this “vision” of sorts… It seemed to be about happiness (or perhaps peacefulness) being visually represented in a textured, acute metallic triangle… the more I could make the metallic surface of the triangle glisten (fill it up with glistening, like a meter) the happier, more peaceful, I felt… but these dark cartoonish hands (that seemed to represent thought, reason, curiosity, intellectualism… I’m just guessing here) kept prodding the triangle because they wanted to capture this “peacefulness”, study it, take a sample, reproduce it… and every time they did that, the glistening would quickly fade, as if shying away from these things. I was never able to make the triangle glisten very much, and the hands were pretty rampant… but it all seemed to make complete sense as I was experiencing it; like emotion and logic were one. Of course when I came out of it, I was like “Whoa… that’s weird.” Oh well, it was a neat, intriguing, and dream-like experience; especially considering most of my meditation attempts usually just end up being me taking a nap in a sitting position. Felt like my mind was trying to balance my “attempted intellectualism” and “ignorant bliss” (or maybe right and left brain), and the scale had been tipped way too far to the side of “attempted intellectualism”.
The image above is almost exactly what it looked like in my mind… it’s a little eerie how accurately I was able to recreate it.
Also, I was listening to the song “Smoked” by Spunkshine throughout the whole thing (below).
Mom (Going through freshly arrived mail) “Looks like you got another wedding invite.”
Me (It being my fifteenth+ wedding invite in the past five years, I wasn’t too enthusiastic) “Yup.”
Mom (Reads sender’s name) “Wait… Weren’t you with this girl for awhile?!”
Mom “… and she’s getting married?!”
I then got the most severe “AND YOU WEREN’T THE ONE WHO FUCKING MARRIED HER?!?!” look I think I’ve ever received.
I have very little interest in marriage… but now I almost want to get hitched just to avoid that look again… Lawdy.
Growing up in New England I never heard nor cared much for the Civil War. It’s relative interest to me was akin to the average American’s understanding of the “War of 1812” or the “Spanish-American War”; that is to say, I knew it happened and I knew it was historically relevant… but beyond that, didn’t care much. Then as a tween, I move to South Carolina… where I’m pretty sure about 30% of the population believes the war is still taking place. Confederate flags galore, Civil War reenactments (I went to one as a teen, it was definitely… loud), purposeful reimaginings and renamings of the war, declaring it such things as “War of the Rebellion”, “War for Southern Independence”, or my personal favorite (for its ridiculousness) “War of Northern Aggression”. The Civil War then became indelibly carved into my brain, despite my efforts to ignore it. What little I knew about my family history (until recently) seemed to suggest that my Irish ancestors didn’t emigrate to American until twenty or more years after the war had taken place… and when we did finally arrive on these shores, it was in places like New England and New Jersey/New York where the attitude was seemingly “Alright, those pissed of southern guys wanted a fight for some reason, so we gave them one… now lets move on with our lives.”, seemingly giving me even less reason to care for this war. Anyway, fast forward twenty-ish years, and somehow I’ve ended up a librarian, working in the South Carolina History Room a the Florence County Library. A room dedicated to all things South Carolina, which very much includes the Civil War (hell, SC virtually started the war). I have grown quite an affinity for history over the years though, and so I do find the SC Room somewhat of a wonderland of curiosities worth exploring; and the one feature I love about the room is that it is a fantastic starting point for genealogical research; and recently I have been researching just that. Today my supervisor asked me to come up something to show in our display case. I had a bit of trouble coming up with anything as I’d only been working in the room about two weeks and didn’t feel I knew its depths of historical information intimately enough to draw something out for accurate representation. I think my supervisor recognized I was drawing a blank and suggested “It’s the one-hundred-and-fiftieth anniversary of the Battle of Gettysburg, lets do something for that. I then found myself setting up a display of ceramic Civil War figurines that had been donated to the library, when I started thinking “… am I sure none of my ancestors were in the Civil War? I’ve got all these genealogical resources here from which to find out…” so research I did… and to my surprise, learned that I did have at least one ancestor in the Civil War. My Irish-born, great-great-great grandfather, Peter Freeman. A sergeant in New York’s 71st Infantry, Company E. He was no one of great importance to the war, but he did fight at some seminal battles, included the Battle of Gettysburg, no less. Haha, I somehow found this insight both ironic and satisfying. All these years I felt affronted by many a South Carolinians’ blind aversions to the north, especially when I felt it was aimed at me for no particular reason as I thought my family had nothing to do with the war, but now I know one ancestor did indeed fight, and his great-great-great grandson, who’s often asked by thickly southern-accented patrons who come into the South Carolina Room “You are from South Carolina, right?”, gets to answer that question with “No, I’m a damned Yankee, and my ancestor was a Union soldier.”
I work at a library, and today I was going through our microfilm collection of old newspaper archives to find an obituary for a patron, when I stumbled upon this picture from the April 20th, 1933 edition of Florence, SC’s “Morning News”. I don’t remember specifically what the story was about (something to the effect of “comedy troupe celebrates birthday fun!”), but I was taken aback by the photo’s unintentional macabre and thought I’d share. Have a nice day!
Just mindfully looked at my key-chain for the first time in years… possibly over a decade. Realized that, of the seven keys I own, only two actually go to something currently relevant in my life (front door and car). Of the others, one belongs to a car that doesn’t exist any more; one unlocked a bedroom in Charleston, SC that I haven’t lived in in six years, nor visited in at least four, and was probably changed five years ago; one belongs to the padlock of a storage unit I only had for a month… six years ago, and the padlock is lost; one belongs to a lockbox that was stolen seven years ago; and the final one belongs to a guitar case I’ve had for fourteen years… but have never had a reason to lock. The keys themselves aren’t that fascinating… but the fact that I’ve had them with me everyday for the entirety of my adult life (and a good chunk of my teenage one) without devoting even the slightest bit of conscious acknowledgment to their existence… yet can still remember exactly what every single one does, makes me smirk a bit. Oh well, now to continue ignoring them for another twenty years.