Category: Melancholy Thoughts
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The Resurrection of Forgotten Love
In my youth, I loved with an intensity that burned hot and blinding-white, like a strip of Phosphorus. It consumed me and took control of my personal and private self. All my waking moments were devoted to devising ways to make this love, love me in return. In this vain attempt, I failed. How can…
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My Right Chest, My Ringtone and a Cemetery
Just this afternoon, I found myself in a cemetery. For those who are keen on details, it was Saint Alphonsus Cemetery in Tupper Lake, NY. The skies were blue with patchy cumulus clouds; a departure from the thunderstorms we’ve been experiencing. I love to stroll in cemeteries. Usually, they are quiet places excellent for the…
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The Moonflower
The heavenly fragrance of moon flower permeates the air in the whole garden. –The Flower Expert website In the summer of 1965 I was busy preparing to leave my home, family and friends and go off to college. Actually, only part of what I just said is true. I was going away to college, that’s…
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Waving My Way Out Of Purgatory
I’m absolutely convinced that I’m going to Purgatory. I know for certain that I’m going to Purgatory. Even my high school girlfriend told me I was going to Purgatory. “Why am I going there?” I would ask her. “Because.” She would reply. “I saw the way you looked at me just now.” “But I didn’t…
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The Ball: A Fable
So you want to hear a story, is that right? Yes. Okay, then I’ll tell a story to you…even you, over there in the corner. Come closer. The boys did as they were told. A story? Well, if you don’t mind I’d rather call it a Fable. That is if you don’t really mind. Fables…
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At The Hound Tor
This is the place of legends. Arthur Conan Doyle saw these rocks and promptly went home to write The Hound of the Baskervilles. Our walk was five miles, beginning in the car park on the north side of Hound Tor. We were to end our day climbing up and over and between the rock outcrops,…
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The Child and the Sea
Children are attracted to the sea. Perhaps it’s the thundering waves, or the endless ways that sand can be used. The waves are constant, soothing and steady, like a lullaby. The castles that can be built in the sand can be as humble or regal as the wildest imagination. Perhaps, the attraction is in the…
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Passports 14: The Sad Life & Lonely Death of Kitty Gray
The Tors and heathland of Dartmoor is a landscape that breeds legends. Legends, myths, mysteries and ghosts. The guidebooks tell you not to go out onto the moors when the weather is foul. When the fog descends, as it often does, and when the misty rain falls on the gorse, and on the matted shag…
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Passports 9: Guests and Ghosts in an English Hotel
We chose to be guests at the George & Pilgrim Hotel in Glastonbury, England. What we did not choose was that a few other guests were quite dead. Yes, there were a fair number of living travelers that night but occupying the same space and the same time, were the resident ghosts. What else would…
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Passports 7: Last Thoughts on Listening to “Bohemian Rhapsody” in Pere La Chaise Cemetery
I find Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody to be a sad song of life, mistakes, loss and death. Freddie Mercury was a beautiful man who died too young. His vocals are pure and haunting: Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? When you wander Paris and take time to look, really look around, you find…
