Guns
and roses. I mean guns and tulips. Well, sort of both, if you count the Guns N' Roses' song sung here by Jani Lane. These tulips faced too many thunderstorms and succumbed to an early death. Jani did, too, and drank himself to death at the ripe, old age of forty-seven. Guns
and books …. and bells hidden by wolves .... and candles .... and furniture made of wood .... and
singers who had a difficult time facing the thunderstorms of life and living, and who encountered early death. Well, think of this photograph as a reflection of my
thoughts at the moment. Nothing more; nothing less. Except, maybe, what really
is more dangerous? Guns, books, flowers, bells, wolves, candles, music, furniture made
of wood .... well, think about it .... I do know the answer to the question, but I
doubt that you do. By the way, if this post seems discombobulated, maybe it is
you, not me .... to repeat myself, think about it ....
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream ...."
Drifting
in Neverland & thinking of you ....
It
is nice to see and to feel the burn from the sun on my body. It is not a bad
burn, but enough to see and to feel.
The
day has passed quietly and quickly since I said good night to you. I am not
even sure what I have done other than eat a bit and read a bit and wait for
time to pass.
I
think I have spent my entire life waiting, but for what, I really do not know.
For something? For someone? For eternity?
A
few people have told me they think I am impatient while waiting for death. I am, in the sense
that I am impatient to see what is around the next bend when I am canoeing on a
river or who might be sitting in a restaurant or in a bar when I walk through the
door or what tomorrow might bring when I go to sleep at night. I am curious to
know what there is to know with each step I take.
This translates, I think, into no fear: Nothing to lose; maybe, something to gain.
This translates, I think, into no fear: Nothing to lose; maybe, something to gain.
I
have wondered what it would be like to have been dead for a million years and
to somehow be aware of it. Do you think I will ever know?
It
seems pleasant to me to think of death as a long, long, endless sleep, filled
with endless dreams, and periodic looks out the window to see if the sun has
risen yet.
I
recall I have told you before that sometimes I think I died -- was killed --
when I was in my early twenties, and that the past few decades have been but a dream.
Most of my life has been a dream, I sort of believe, and I wonder what it will be after
I die within this dream.
My
favorite dream within a dream poem I have mentioned before, too. Quote the
Raven .... whoops, I mean quote the Edgar Allan Poe:
"....
You are not wrong, who deem
That
my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream ...."
This
has happened before. I begin a note to you, and it will end up, sooner or later, as a post
on my blog. I am not sure what to make of this, but, in any case, I hope you
have a pleasant day. I will see you there ....
7 comments:
Hi Frammy, how are you?
Magda
Hello there, Mag.
To begin, I apologize for the delay in responding. I have had weekend company, and have not been near my blog (or any blogs, for that matter) for a few days.
Next, you ask a question impossible for me to answer. I have no idea how I am. All I know is that I am still here, still thinking, still wondering, still waiting, still looking, still asking .... well, you get my drift. I honestly do not know how to answer your question.
Your turn, how are you? Fine, I hope.
Olá caro amigo Fram
Depois de um tempinho ausente estou de volta.
E ai como você esta?
Adorei a postagem...
Uma bela coleção nessa imagem. Uma mistura perfeita.
Gosto das Tulipas, as armas acho perigosa.
Queimadura de sol no corpo??? É muito dolorido, gosto de praia e sol, mas não de queimadura risoss.
Os videos são excelente. Patience é uma música que gosto muito,Guns N 'Roses fez muito sucesso com essa música, ficou na memoria.
Deixo um grande abraço pra ti meu amigo.
Ótima semana!
It is especially enjoyable when you come for a visit, Smareis, because you look for ideas/beliefs/thoughts/meanings within the photographs/illustrations of my posts, within the words I have written and within the songs which accompany the photos and the words. More often than not, these three elements are linked one way or another, and I do not think many people notice that and even fewer understand that. You are one of the few who actually looks inside of me.
As a side note, I will say I love it when I have a sunburn. It makes me feel alive. It makes me feel a bond with the sun and with Nature and with life itself. A sunburn is like a metamorphosis. It is like coming up from deep under the sea and gasping for the first breath of air as you burst to the surface. It lets me know I am vulnerable to it while part of it at the same time.
Finally, "Patience" is a wonderful song. Its message is real and very much true, if we only listen.
Well.Hello there!
What a photo!Love the guns.but not the faded tulips..The books seems interesting and i belive you live in the same place?
About death Fram.Reallly.Doyou think there is something after this life????
And who are you talking too..like goodnight and words like that?
Have you found a girlfriend yet?
Where is you r vavcation gonna be this year?
Wish you a great summer Fram whatever you do)
Greetings from Norway,Anit
You have said in the past that you have a sense of when I am about to post, Anita. You were right once again, but you arrived an hour early.
I was beginning to think the trolls had kidnapped you, it has been so long since you wandered through here.
Anyway .... I am buying guns like there is no tomorrow. Perhaps, there is not, and, if there is not, I wish to be well-armed when Freyja comes to me and takes me to Folkvangr. That is my hope for the next life, but not really a belief.
Yes, the books are all right. All shown there are entertainment, not literature. The author of one, Vince Flynn, lives a few miles from here. And, yes, here is the same place -- the same house.
There is a young lady I would go to, but she either does not wish that to happen or is not ready for that to happen. Time answers all questions. I once thought I would have three wives; now, I am not so sure.
There will be no vacation per se for me, but I want to travel in the autumn for a few months. Things are settling down for me, and I can sense freedom in the air after two years in figurative chains. Where I will go depends on many factors.
You have a great summer, too, Anita, and thank you, for coming around again.
Sort of an Editor's Note in the form of a comment: The author of, "The Last Man," one of the books on the table in the photograph accompanying this post, died June 19 after a two-year battle with cancer. Vince Flynn was 47, married with three children and the author of 14 action novels. He was a fine story-teller.
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