Been up and down the streets of Broadway...

Looking at the tired callus feet of mine it has come to my immediate attention that they have walked the sidewalks of life a couple of times.  They have seen the cobble stone walk ways of ancient cities in Europe and the sacred stones inside the grand Cathedrals of Spain.  While also being pedestrian with the day in my life.  What have they learned?  

 Its been a couple of days since my brain began spinning its wheel with a gestation of thought.  Along with a glass of wine and cigar began to conceive all that was inside.  Read a caption in a picture that depicted a man as a liar, where his private words were used to make a conscious fight to some ones inner struggle to not accept their failure.  It wasn’t bothersome at first, it was quite comical actually, but after defining the concept I came up with this silly analogy of words.

What type of person would put a picture of something so personal?  At first maybe someone who was hurt.  Maybe even someone who was betrayed.  Then the words just came in a tsunami of letters, commas, adjectives, verbs, nouns, pronouns, and exclamation points.  It didn’t matter, vindictive or heart broken it was wrong.  I thought to myself how many times my heart has been broken and how many times it went into the shop for a tune up, you just don’t do that to people.  

I decided that somewhere a picture would exist that would make me realize that my walk about had seen kinder things and nicer people.  There it was in my backyard.  Several weeks ago in my back ass mentality to elevate my soul and thoughts and find the road to serenity I planted a garden.  My little garden of life as it is affectionately called.  

At first the worry was nothing was growing.  Just maybe my thumb was not green or worse yet maybe life was not that forgiving to my path.  Then one morning walking out in blue scrub pants, taliban shoes, and superman t-shirt with a cup of coffee and a book of words, there it was!  Perfection!  There was life inside of me after all.  So I took a picture and created my own journey.

You ask yourself what does one have to do with the other?  Nothing.  Just the point of life after all continues.  In the past couple of weeks been searching the web for pictures of chairs, stools, tables, designs of this or that to carve out a new trail.  In the process found useless pictures, stories that made me smile and cry, and more than anything washed and cleansed memories of yesterday.  

“First thing I have to do is fix it!”  Too many times one reads much into these words and honestly they are not cryptic or have a meaning, they are just a thought of one word or one picture.  I find myself walking the streets these days with a smile, I look up and don’t see a dark cloud hovering waiting to rain on my parade.  Yesterday I overheard someone talk badly about a friend.  Most people avoid confrontation and say nothing.  I am a friend.  I told the person being vile, “Obviously your an idiot.  Fuck you.  You have no clue.  None!”  

Honestly, I don’t either!  But no one steals my heart away and tramples it.  No one cheats and cries wolf.  No one cries blood red tears about my friends because I become paternal and fight like a mother hen.  As we were walking to the car, “Why did you do that?”  was asked.  

“Because in life my feet have walked a thousand miles to nowhere to find my soul.  In that journey I have found people who are etched in my heart and discovered souls who have become my blood.  While the honesty of life is sometimes cruel it is within yourself to discover the vile inside of you.  It is not for someone to decimate who you are.  An old saying, never judge someone unless you have walked in their shoes.  Well here is a new one from me, never attempt to think that you know what the tattered worn shoes of mine feel like.  If you understand this I won’t make the same mistake.”

When I got back to the office I was reminiscing about where life’s road had taken me.  What the earth underneath my feet had to say about the day.  I turned on the computer to write this and found the funniest saying, “By the power vested in ME, I now Pronounce You DELETED and BLOCKED.  You May Now Kiss My Ass!  Irony.

Let the journey continue...

a toast from my dixie cup...

woke up this morning about 2am, walked to the bathroom washed my face.  there in the reflection were my days.  the lines of time stood quite still.  white hair escaping asking for attention from the dishelved hair.  grungy prickly facial hair trying to  hide the fact that somewhere time forgot about  them because hidden amongst my youth was history.

last night before i ventured into the land of nightmares and dreams a simple cup of wine touched my lips.  it was an amazing piece of time standing still.  chateau gloria 2009, both big and robust, yet somewhere in there a classy sense of self.  she bled burgundy all over my lips.  her skin was a smooth as velvet.  as comforting as a mother’s bosom to her baby.  she poured her soul into mine.  it was indeed just enough to enrich this mind that sometimes needs more than just a bit of wine...

the news spoke of violence.  they spoke of tragedy.  they whispered pain.  yet they could not find peace of heart.  i changed the channel.  what if life was that simple?  picked up the newspaper to take the spinning wheel away from yesterdays mishaps.  it too screamed of the seal of love being broken by someones ignorance.  someones inability to think!

you ever notice that after, way after the fact, you always scold your thoughts by acknowledging to yourself that you shouldn’t have done that.  hindsight my ass...ignorance is bliss, my ass.  one second.  all it takes is one second.  ‘i can’t remember much of last night, been that way for almost 15 years.”  guess what?  it is a song.  

don’t tolerate mediocrity.  its unacceptable.  expect excellence.

fell asleep around 4 after i realized how lucky some people are or how downright delusional.  not sure which one came first.  this ones gonna hurt a bit.  sticks and stones don’t break but they burn somewhat.  not sure where the train got derailed but it did.  the fire was gone...extinguished.  thankfully an ember lay burning and then my thoughts engulfed it into a burning tower inferno.  

love doesn’t let you decide it allows you to live.  you have to have it in your heart.  if it takes a vacation make sure you keep track of where it went.  its what separates you from the ones who crawl.  if kryptonite was superman’s downfall then my heart is mine.  finally got tired of living how i had been.  got a dixie cup and poured myself some wine.

now this morning i’m up with a thought.  guess i’m doing fine.  a smile spread across my face.  carefree from making a mistake.  don’t care if i bleed a little a long the way.  don’t need someones prayer to help me realize.  i just need the love that bleeds through my vines.  the one that can pour a sense of perfection into my glass that no longer is an empty glass of pain.  

alarming as it seems, that glass was always half full.  somewhere it just became the bottom of an empty glass of hurt.  last nights dixie cup was left with the stain of my thoughts.  and it was laughing with me...”sometimes it right there in front of you and you don’t realize it.”  

amazing was not the first cup of wine but the second one.  it seemed like a dirt road that was a million miles away.  minerals.  a bit of rain.  darkness from the clouds giving a taste of fruit.  it was provocative, sexy, she wore a loin cloth that revealed a cleavage that caught my eye.  she wasn’t big but she wasn’t small.  she had the whole world distinguishing itself in a cup of truth.  

if life indeed was a cup of wine it would be elegant, classy, big, robust, it would sit next to me and we would not be able to see through it.  no, it would stop us from running and grab us by the heart and just have a conversation with us.  we could hear the music.  the words would have our undivided attention.  

its 7 am and insomnia continues to be my lover.  she is restless.  she is kind when i need her to be kind but she is a woman.  she expects me to run and not crawl or walk.  the coffee percolates.  it fills my soul with a different thought.  but last night i toasted these thoughts to life with a dixie cup.  “i can no longer expect myself to crawl.  walking is unacceptable.  running away is not the answer.  so instead ‘i will walk the pavements’ and hold the hand to my soul, my lover,  my thoughts as the world catches up to me...salut!

My next thirty years...

After an incredible ten years of my life, I woke up to realize that when the  sun goes down and we close our eyes we can dream a little dream.  These dreams can be illusions or they can be your greatest defeat, living in the past no longer matters.  Having recently had surgery to rebuild me, Steve Austin I’m not but they indeed rebuilt me.  They started with my gut and slowly moved to my brain and tightened the bolts that were coming off.  After leaving the Doctor’s office I drive up to the corner of illusion and dreams.  The  light turns green on me twice and yet the car was idle, watching life fly by.  

Emotions of friendship, words that once described a reason now were empty.  Found myself dealing with a Doctor’s bill that was sitting like a passenger in my car.  I refused to put a seat belt on it hoping that if something bad would happen it would go away.  

The difference between integrity and meaning?  I had become the man built by two men, one who ruled his world methodically to conquer his own fears.  The other who ruled it with a kind yet ruthless abandon because it was the path he chose.  And there I stood, staring at my rearview mirror looking at the years as they sped by me.  I was a by product of them and that scared the shit out of me.

Jumped on a plane to New York to find a reason, to see if my life was not like them but rather a product of my father.  One with dirt under his fingernails from a hards days work.  In college my roommates would often argue who had a harder day, the computer engineer building programs for NASA or the one who was lifting heavy equipment all day long.  

While both had insight to their own Private Idaho, the question had a rather simplistic answer, to each his own.  Once in New York the city lights were mesmerizing, the sounds of a city that sort of never sleeps all captivated me.  Walking through those streets it was pleasant to finally feel free of myself.  No longer could I blame anyone, it was in my control now.  I was walking down a razors edge, the dice had been thrown and now it was all about what I held in store for tomorrow.  

After an incredible dinner at the oldest of restaurants that still exist in this country I was ready.  Not so quick were my thoughts, I stared at this piece of history, the walls, the ceilings, floors, then it dawned on me that the people who worked there were just as old as the building itself.  This sense of loyalty that I had betrayed only the day before.  Confused and wounded these thoughts were indeed bleeding profusely.  “Would you like a carafe or half carafe or would you like to see the wine menu?”  

He indeed had asked if I wanted to see the wine menu.  I was confused, lost for words, “A wine menu?”  This place was known for only serving their home made wine.  Why had they changed?  What were they thinking?  How could they betray their history.  Lost was no longer a word, confused was no longer an emotion, I wanted, no I needed to know why they changed?

The owner was summoned and as he walked to the table I noticed first of all that his staff was much older  than he.  He introduced himself and immediately before I could think the inevitable question came out.  “You own this?”  Came out of my lips rather sarcastically.  His confident smile and his wayward manner said all I needed to know.  “My father finally retired a year ago.  He still owns it, now I just have the responsibility of not screwing it up.”  

After some conversation, I asked why the change in the wine menu.  He laughed, “It’s a great thing to keep the knowledge of what got us here but at a point we have to evolve.  I took my father’s wisdom and added what a little bit of my wisdom.  Besides, my wife’s favorite wine is Jordan Chardonnay.  Got to keep the women happy.”

Life has that ability to make us smile.  The next day the confidence in my walk, the strength in my words   was never so empowering.  What the years had taught me was that with the sun, water, soil, one can plant a seed and grow perfection.  If along the way it develops some character that is minerally, has some coffee, a bit of raspberry, maybe some anise, with tobacco and spice to make you spruce up.  You are touching someone’s version of perfection.  

“Hi my name is Ricardo Ramos.  I’m looking for my perfection.”  Let the journey continue...

“Thank you David Hernandez for teaching me how to play chess when the rest of the world is playing checkers.  Thank you Steve Jabour for teaching me not to be afraid, for giving me life again.  For being that person who gave me reason to believe in myself.  More importantly for teaching me how to survive in the land of the trivial.  Thank you Dad, for keeping me balanced all of these years.  For allowing me a rational look at this life.  For just being that father who looks at you and you know you did something wrong.  For being my father first and my friend second.”