The Narrows By Jim Carroll

this man's poetry fascinates me, I almost want to crawl into his genesis rems of thought to experience a moment of how the clarity he shows in this particular poem, generates a connection to situations in my own life.

The Narrows by Jim Carroll

That is the way you are, always given
to silence. so I don’t care anymore
about these green leaves in my carpet
about the death of an historical figure
about your voice.

you were thinking about a red curtain
that we might hide behind. I was
thinking about the freedom of your shadow,
last night, when this livid sky unfolded
its vault of a thousand swords and the air
we were breathing seemed our own.

I’m glad that you’re able to breathe
I’m glad that you’re able to distinguish me
from the lights along the thruway.
I mean don’t both of us illuminate
the direction which you are taking?
and don’t both weep nervously above
the moist pavement where you move.

I’d like to watch myself holding you
above the cool shore of something really vast
like a vast sea, or ocean.
and when I was through watching
I’d become someone else, seducing the heavy
waters, allowing nothing to change.
as the sands are changing and night comes
and we’re not aware of all this endlessness,
which is springing up like The Moonlight Sonata
ascending from the glare of a thousand frightened moans.

Pockets

Last night the BN had officers call, one of the comments was about being in the right uniform and wearing it correctly. One of the rules in the Army, is that your hands can't be in your pockets. The waist pockets, are for? Of Course putting your hands in, its comfortable and casual, but lets remember the Army doesn't care about you being comfortable or casual, They want you to be tough, to be hardcore, so that nothing effects you. Nothing.

So what do you put in your pockets?

I usually don't put anything in my waist pockets, because i don't like the buldge in my front pockts, its just uncomfortable, but I love to put my hands in my pockets, and shit here I am stuck for a year, not being able to put my hands in my pockets.

I do think the invention of cargo pockets, are freaking sweet. I can really carry my life in these, wallet, phone, camera, keys, and of course mr. graves.

In the army, i always have cargo pockets, so this is an amazing thing, that well it may make up for me not being able to have my hands in my front waist pockets. The more I think about it, it really can't not replace it, not at all. In the army cargo pockets i carry my moleskin tablet, a knife, and sometimes my camera. There are all kinds of fun pockets on the jacket for my phone, wallet, and camera.

Pockets, Pockets, Pockets, one of those beloved creations, that we would be lost if we didn't have a place other than our neck to hold our stuff.

Its hard to stay ahead

So here is my ahh 4th blog, and I am sure I will do a great job of not keeping up with it or just-plain out forgetting about it.

I am current on mobilization orders for deployment to Iraq, a lot of shuffling around and I am not going into the plain, information changes all the time.

There is a lot of down time, but not the kind of down time you want to be chatting with friends, or talking on your cell phone, the waiting to get on the fire line, for patients to come in, so you are stuck reading a book, sleeping, or bsing with soldiers around you.

I have taken up a few endeavers to make it through the deployment. Posting a picture or at least taking one everyday of my new friend mr. graves that was given to me by my friend Todd. I am sure todd misses him, and i am going to do my best to take really good care of him.

my second project is to find an awesome quote and write it in my black book, and post it to the blog, as often as i can, but i am not so good at keeping up with all this stuff.

so today quotes is

War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself.
--John Stewart Mill--