Wally’s Great Adventures (11)

hello everyone, wally here. i’m having an off day, more on that in a moment. that’s me and my bro sully in the pic up top.  he’s here visiting us for thanksgiving. dad calls this the frenchie train. frenchies love to sleep between legs, its warm and safe there. and since sully is older and i’m the baby, i don’t get to pick the pole position. if i bury my head far enough down, i can minimize the downwind vapors. i can’t wait to grow up so i get big-boy privileges. speaking of that, i’ve been having trouble sleeping, and i pee-peed in my day bed today. i’m afraid this may be due to anxiety, because i think i may have been adopted. but mom would never lie, would she? with dad, on the other hand, anything is possible. well, i may be quiet, but i watch. oh, i watch. i watch dad slide sully cheese pizza under the table yesterday. today he sneaks sully a few intra meal snacks.  he thinks i don’t see, but i see. oh, i see.  and this morning, dad was gone with sully for 2 hours for a long walk at cove island park. and wow, he even got sully in a beautiful sunrise shot among other dandies here. and my pic? look at me out of focus with my head up sully’s a**. that’s just not right.  as dad likes to say, i don’t get shat but yelled at, and if things don’t shape up around here, he’s ain’t seen what bad could look like. dad says that i need to be more grateful, as it’s thanksgiving tomorrow. i took some time thinking about dad’s lesson on being grateful. so i looked at the picture he took of me below. look at me. my head is like 3x the size of my body, it’s disproportionately large. mom said that’s normal and i’ll grow into my body. dad asks mom if that is why we got a discount when they bought me. jesus. it’s hard to be grateful with dad’s pep talks. anyway, i had better see some turkey snacks tomorrow, or you are going to see sully rain down hell around here. ok friends, it’s wally’s nap time. happy thanksgiving!

 

 

Wally’s Great Adventures (10)

hello everyone, wally here. i’m helping dad with his planks, planks so his back doesn’t flare up.  any-who, back to dad.  just look at him. what is flaring up are his ears, his face & the veins on his forehead, we have like a medical emergency here so it is wally to the rescue. i first crawled underneath dad hoping to prop him up & dad shouted that this “wasn’t bloody helpful walter.” dad calls me walter when i’m making trouble. still, something was very wrong here. dad was breathing so heavy, and his face was like a tomato, and his arms trembling, i think he was hallucinating & he must be playing the opposite game. so i grabbed the knot in the drawstring from his hoodie & started reefing on it trying to pull dad down. his elbows were broken & wouldn’t come down. “WALLY, GET OUT!” dad looked ill. mom was laughing. i barked telling her that this was not funny & dad was in big trouble.  then dad said he had 10 secs to go and it would be over thank god. omg, dad is dying.  then suddenly dad collapsed to the ground and i thought he was dead so i dropped the drawstring & ran over to his ear & bit down on it to resuscitate him. dad lifted his head & lifted me up with my teeth locked onto his ear, his head like a giant construction crane. it was so much fun and dad was alive!  “DAMN IT WALLY, F*CKING LET GO.”  i barked at dad & told him that wasn’t nice esp since i saved him.  dad rolled around the floor holding his ear saying i made him bleed. come on dad, they are just baby teeth. dad said he was doing crunches tomorrow and i wouldn’t be within 3 miles of him. i don’t know about miles or crunches but i’ll be close by right here to rescue him forever when he’s in trouble. ok friends, it’s wally’s nap time. have a great day.

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

I hadn’t done drugs since sniffing Lady Esquire shoe polish when I was fifteen. I didn’t need to. I felt the pinch of wonder. I felt everything sharply, the people we met, the sensation of being in a body, of eating or drinking. I knew there was darkness in the world, but I was sure it would not overpower us; rather, we would let ourselves be overpowered by the beauty of our discoveries as we traveled through this world. Railway stations and underground trains, the commons, a magnificent oak in a park, the redbrick Victorian buildings of England and Wales, the Georgian splendor of Edinburgh, of Glasgow with its occasional black eye. And the beautiful searching eyes of our audience. Every night, the show. The ragged and sometimes glorious show.

— Bono, “Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story by Bono” (Knopf, November 1, 2022)


Photo: via Zimbio

They’re back…

Atlantic Brants —  hundreds upon hundreds of these marvelous creatures landing at Calf Pasture Beach at sunrise. Pit stop? They breed on the high-arctic tundra.


Notes:

  • Other pictures from this morning’s walk @ Calf Pasture Beach here and Cove Island Park here .
  • Prior posts from May 2022 on Atlantic Brants here.

Wally’s Great Adventures (9).

good saturday morning everyone, wally here. ray, one of dad’s blogging buddies was flipping thru facebook, saw dad’s pics from this morning’s walk at cove Island park, and he said to hisself ” ah, ok, duh, here’s something that I haven’t seen for 928 consecutive days.” then good friend ray shouted in caps WHERE THE HELL IS WALLY? WHATS UP WITH WALLY???? dad seemed more than a bit irritated that i already have a fan from south carolina, and i’ve like gone global, while dad was out freezing his a$$ off, going round and round on the same cove island track and I was sleeping with mom in the cozy bed. so ray wants to know what’s up…thinking…thinking…thinking. i peed on dad’s rug yesterday because he was working working working and I was bored. it got his attention. he said he had to be on a zoom call and i cant shat wherever i want like an aminal. zoom? huh? i then did the zoomies round and round in his office. dad laughed, he never laughs. when dad was doing his zoomies i went exploring in all the rooms on the second floor. i chewed on rachel’s suitcase. and then eric’s backpack. and then i found dad’s cables, so many white cables, so many devices. i heard dad stomping down the hallway so i skooched under the bed to hide. “WALLY!” i know my name now and when dad shouts like that, i know i’m in big trouble. “not the cords wally…not my bloody cables…my gadgets are worth more than you are.” i barked at dad, that wasn’t very nice. he has to be joking. he was! because then dad took me on a boat ride on his tee shirt up and down the hallway. and then i got to play horsey on dad’s back. i have so much fun when dad works from home. dad is the best play toy ever. that’s all friends. nap time. have a great weekend!


And if anyone cares to check out dad’s pictures from this morning’s walk at cove island park, click here.

Wally’s Great Adventures (8).

hello everyone. wally here. it’s 1:30 am and dad just took me out to go pee pee. it threw me off as dad never gets up, it’s mommy that does all the work. i really didn’t know what to make of it. i barked a little, hoping mom would stir. she didn’t. i think she was in shock too. dad held me close to his chest as he carried me downstairs. he didn’t say anything but i could feel his heart go pitter patter. he has one, a heart that is, i heard it, that made me happy. its dark out and dad told me to ‘hurry up, go pee pee and not screw around, it’s cold out here.’ i sniffed the grass, there was either rabbit or raccoon rummaging around here. i walked further out in the yard sniffing to see if i could track them down, and dad followed, in his bare feet, white t-shirt, and sleep shorts. ‘wally, pee-pee, now!” dad was right, that wind from the north was cold, i squatted like a girl, went pee-pee and ran back to the door. dad said ‘sort of good job wally but i’m going to have to teach you how to pee pee like a man.” next time dad goes to pee i’m going to watch and learn. mom said that a cold front is coming in, and they are calling for 5 feet of snow in buffalo. i don’t really know what snow is and what it has to do with buffalo’s, but mom told me i better come to love my prickly sweater. mom took the pictures here. i found that when i run inside from the cold, i can sit on the heater vent and warm my tooshy. it feels so warm and so good. so that’s all everyone. i have to get back to bed now. have a great friday! tgif!

Lightly Child, Lightly.

It sometimes sweeps through him in quick glimpses like an illumination and yes, yes, then he’s filled with a kind of happiness and he thinks that there might be a place somewhere… what if everything could be like that? … He thinks about a place like that, which is obviously no place, he thinks, he falls into a kind of sleep that isn’t like sleep but more a bodily movement where he’s not moving… everything’s heavy and hard and there’s a place in the big heaviness that’s an unbelievably gentle shining light, like faith, yes, like a promise.

Jon Fosse, The Other Name: Septology I-II.


Notes:D

  • DK Photo @ Daybreak. 67° F, with light rain. 6 am. November 12, 2022. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
  • Post Title & Inspiration: Aldous Huxley: “It’s dark because you are trying too hard. Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly. Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply. Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.”

Wally’s Great Adventures (7)

hello everyone. wally here. dad took that shot above. not all that flattering, certainly not my best side. and if you thought i looked irritated, you pegged it right. dad shouted at me and told me to “get the hell out from under the chair!” because he knew what i was doing. what is it with this human need to follow me around when i have to poop. mom told dad earlier today that she caught me crawling under the outdoor furniture pooping.  she didn’t know what i was doing on monday and tuesday, but now she understood. she told dad that I started pooping on the grass on the wet leaves and then ran under the furniture to finish. and that she found a number of wally deposits lined up in a cute little row. well, she got most of the story right (like i did line them up in a cute little row), but leave it to mom to miss the entire point. what about the right to a little wally privacy. i don’t go into the bathroom with mom with she’s in there pushing out her spinach. and there goes dad, who’s poop doesn’t smell (he told me that). dad started in on mom again about the need for discipline to start early: “did you notice that he doesn’t shat wherever he wants when he’s with me. there needs to be a bit of fear in this training regime. like he did with the kids.” mom walked away mumbling something about 39 years of this, THIS! she shouted. so after all this settled down, i decided to play in my toy basket. dad looks over, and says look at your animal. apparently i should have taken one toy out at a time to play, but why bother when you can jump right in and play with all of them at the same time. i looked at mom, she gave me a little wink which made me feel better. dad grunted and told mom to watch my back end, there could be another ‘cute little row on the tile.’ so, that’s it for tonight.  hope to see you again on the weekend. good night!

I believe in everything simultaneously. I don’t have a religion and don’t need one.

…While A Book of Days is dedicated to others, its cover is of Smith in a dashing, black, wide-brimmed hat carrying a Polaroid 250 Land Camera that now looks quaintly retro with her hand irresolutely over her mouth – reverie second nature to her. Its first image is of her hand raised in greeting. “HELLO EVERYBODY”, she exclaims. Hands appear throughout her books, in and out of dreams. Could we focus on her own? Surprised, she considers them: small, shapely, barely lined. Does she ever look at her hands and think: you’ve been with me through everything? She laughs, surprised: “Gosh, yes, I do think that. I look at them and see my whole life. I realise I’ve not changed all that much. I’m just older, older, older…” She feels particularly in touch with her 11-year-old self, “running through fields with my dog and free of social conformities”…

I see her as a literary pilgrim, I tell her, and she looks pleased. But what I most want to know is why she is so dedicated to celebrating other artists? She replies simply: “Because they magnify my life.”..

Does she believe in fate? She replies that, when younger, she saw life as a “huge prayer rug where the threads make a beautiful design but with intentional flaws”. She is still drawn to the “grand design” even if the carpet is a comforting fiction…

She also believes in free will. “I believe in everything simultaneously. I don’t have a religion and don’t need one.” Like most of us, she worries about the world. “Today, I woke at four in the morning out of a sound sleep, thinking of the women of Iran and of my daughter… my mind all over the place. I keep waking through the night. Part of me is always conscious of what is happening in Ukraine, the threat of nuclear weapons, the climate crisis, a part of Florida destroyed.” I look at her face – tired, I see that now: “All these things radiate from my mind and I can’t… we’re powerless to take care of everything but I try to keep these people in my consciousness just as I keep the dead in my consciousness. My father, my mother – I think of them. I can’t help all the women in Yemen watching their babies die of starvation. I can only radiate love toward them. I have to, as an individual, continue to do my work. I have to find a way to balance our troubled world with my own optimism, joy and obligations. So it is always on my mind and it’s complicated.”…

But her emphasis is always on life: “I just keep doing my work, try to take care of myself. I feel blessed to have the imagination I have but don’t think it makes me more important than anyone. I am who I am, with all my flaws – and I’m grateful.”..

—  Kate Kellaway, from “Patti Smith: ‘I am who I am with all my flaws’ (The Guardian, November 13, 2022)

Wally’s Great Adventures (6)

hello everyone. wally here. guess what? my big brother sully came to visit. mom said he’s not my brother but he’s my cousin. dad said that we came from the same mother. mom said that’s not true, and that he didn’t know what he was talking about. but since dad is always right, he said that sully is my brother and that was that. back to sully. he’s giant. i mean GIANT. i can’t wait to grow up to be that big. dad wrestles with him and plays tug-o-war with my toys. i run into the middle of their ruff-housing and dad shoos me away saying I’m too little and will get hurt. i bark at him, who’s he calling little. mom calls me over, and tells me that I will get hurt so I go and sit on mamma’s lap like a baby, little baby mamma’s boy. sad. sully is like a super frenchie. with a running start he can jump straight up onto the ottoman and then to the top of the couch.  i follow right behind him and bang my head on the side of the ottoman and fall backwards. dad comes running to pick me up and asks me if I’m ok. sully growls at me. dad says not to worry, as all dogs get jealous with the dog whisperer. i didn’t know what he was talking about but mom grumbled something about being delusional and this is what she has to look forward to in his retirement. sully has his own water bowl, it’s so much bigger than mine and the water tastes so much better in his bowl. i want a big bowl like sully’s but mom won’t let me as i keep stepping in the water bowl and spilling the water all over the floor. mom says not to worry as this must be a genetic influence from dad.  sully lets mom put on his sweater without a fuss, so i did too, as i want to be a big boy like sully. dad said that my sweater looked a bit tight, like a bodycon that women wear. i didn’t think that was nice so I barked at him.  dad said that sully’s sweater would be good camouflage in the woods, but with my red foo-foo hoodie, that for sure a hawk would mistake me for edible vermin. one last thought as it is almost nap time. i poo-pooed in the kitchen yesterday, and pee-peed 3x on the rugs, the rugs are so soft on my little paws when I’m pushing it out (and I don’t have to go out in the cold and wet grass). mom did not look that happy, no where near as happy as when i go poo poo in the backyard and she jumps up and down as if she won the california lottery. dad said that mom needed to bone up her dog training skills, as did she notice that i don’t crap all over the house on his watch, dog whisperer that he is. sully and i are sleepy so we are going to take a nap now. ok everyone, have a great week!

 

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

This idea that there’s something Posh about culture really upsets me. It really upsets me because the liberating nature of a beautiful piece of art, whether it’s music, whether it’s paint on canvas, whether it’s a poem, whether it’s a book, or whether it’s a play. It’s plays that I first plugged into as a kid. It’s so immensely important to your mental health, the simple ability to step outside your own brain. It’s meditative. It’s quasi-religious. It’s an ability to step outside the quotidian, The Daily Grind, to actually rise above the minutiae of your daily existence and soar into Uncharted Territory. It is a thing of absolute Beauty. And if you are laughing at me now, that is tragic because it means you don’t know what I’m talking about, which means you’ve never had that experience, which, means you’ve never been lucky enough to have a teacher or a parent or a friend or an accidental encounter with some music, you’ve never had that experience. Maybe some people get it at the football, actually at an amazing sporting event, which can be a mixture of religious and Theatrical, when you feel yourself soaring… I had a spiritual experience but I’ve had that experience in theaters and I’ve had that experience in my own home listening to a certain piece of music or reading a book. And why why why in this country are the words I have just said in any way emblematic of something that is linked to social class. Why I do not get it, I do not get it at all… Why is this country a place where we are told from a very early age, that the inner life, the imagination, the magic of art and culture, is something that is the sole Preserve of the wealthy, or the privileged. Where does that come from? …it breaks my heart.

— James O’Brien, from “This idea that there’s something posh about culture really upsets me” (LBC, Friday November 11, 2022)

Sunday Morning


Pictures from this morning’s walk at Cove Island Park here.

Saturday Morning

I’ve noticed that people love to hurry. Meals are always quick, coffees are never savoured, glances are fleeting, conversations brief and it feels like this is becoming normal, that people only expect surface level and they only strive for surface level in all aspects of life. Mediocre coffee. Luke-warm love. Convenience. Because life is scary and when you sit with it long enough, and really listen to the silence, you notice what you’re missing, and some of what we miss, we know we will never be able to find again.

—  Seyda Noir (seydanoirwords @ Instagram, April 28, 2022) (via balancedhuman)


Photo: Pixaby

Wally’s Great Adventures (5)

tgif everyone. i had a great night’s sleep. i get up once or twice a night and bark so mom can take me to go pee pee outside. dad doesn’t get up because he’s tired and he said that it’s mom’s job because mom and dad have divided up responsibilities between them so it’s fair.  in other words, dad plays with me, and mom does everything else. dad is an awesome playmate. i love my crate, it’s my safe place. i sleep in the crate until about 3:30 am when i see bright lights on, then i know dad is up reading. i bark because I’m cold and lonely lying in this crate all by myself —  i see dad nudge mom to get up to get me. mom gets up and she carries me into their bed. i wiggle out of mom’s hands, run across the bed to give dad some kisses and then i skootch under the covers and cosy between dad’s legs. i love my crate but this is a much better place to sleep.  dad takes me out for adventures each morning in the backyard where i get to hunt in the rock pile. dad keeps saying “stop eating dat.” “stop eating dat. “stop eating dat.” i bark at him telling him he doesn’t have to repeat himself, i’m not stoopid, and if he gave me more snacks i wouldn’t have to eat grass and sticks. i climb from the top of the rock pile and then bunny-hop into the bird bath. dad was so proud of me, he took a picture and sent it to mom. mom yelled at dad saying that he shouldn’t put me up on high places, cause i could fall and hurt myself. i bark at mom to explain that it wasn’t dad but she just kept yelling at him. i don’t understand why mom nags at dad, because he let’s me do whatever I want and he’s always right anyway. dad’s been talking about taking me to cove island park this weekend, mom didn’t look all too happy but I’ve come to learn that dad will do whatever he wants anyway. so i have to go now.  it’s nap time. have a great weekend!

Walking. With Headlights. (Lightly Child, Lightly)

5:15 a.m. 918 consecutive (almost) days of this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.

I wasn’t going to post this. Nope. I’m so much bigger than this. I am.  No I’m not bigger than this. Not close. As petty as they come.

It’s 6:04 a.m. and I’m at the backside of the park. And there he is again, on the other side of the cove, his headlights on, high beams no less. A-hole sits in his car, doing Something, God knows what. And his f*cking lights have to be on marring the landscape with an ugly coating of man-made light across the shoreline and the inlet. This A-hole is parked right here about 50% of the time, headlights always on. He apparently has his morning ritual as well.

I’ve taken to walking directly into the light, right up to the water’s edge. I swing my camera over my shoulder to free up both hands, and give him a 1-finger salute with both hands, and shout out “hey a**hole.”

I’m a pacifist, with violent mood swings and anger management issues. Untameable. The mind drifts. I shift the shoulder-fired rocket launcher, setting it comfortably on my shoulder, uncock the safety catch, peer through the sights and let the heat guided missile find its target, a thin line of smoke trailing behind…

It’s cold. I’m tired. I’m irritable. I have no 4-legged friend joining me, Wally, is fast asleep. [Read more…]

Wally’s Great Adventures (4)

hello everyone, happy hump day. dad said that i can only take a nap after i write my post. so here we go. eric’s friend dana said the other day that she loved how i crossed my legs when i sleep. dad pounced on that and said that was totally unacceptable. that’s how ladies sit, and sleep, and that i needed to “man-up.” i really didn’t know what that meant but dad was really proud of me when he showed me this picture: “wally, what a good boy.” i like it when i make my dad smile, it doesn’t happen often. it’s getting cold here. mom took me outside for poo-poo and i carefully laid it down on the concrete patio. mom didn’t look all that impressed but i didn’t want to walk out onto the cold, wet grass. dad said he didn’t care where i go poo-poo so long as it wasn’t in his office. dad’s been taking me for short little walks in the backyard. he said that i’m an excellent rock climber. right after he said that i tumbled head first and fell behind the rock fence, and rolled around in the leaves a bit. dad brushed me off, told me to get up and stop being a baby. my head hurt a bit. dad said “after that little performance, i’m not ready to go on morning walks with him.” i barked at him and said it’s not like he hadn’t fallen and rolled around on the rocks writhing in pain, and he was a lot older than me. dad told me not to talk back, so it looks like i have to wait a bit longer before i go on walks with dad. anyway, its been like 3.5 minutes and i haven’t sat on mom’s lap. it’s so warm there and she’s so nice, so i’m going to go now.  talk to you all soon.

Lunar Eclipse Blood Moon

A solid half an hour spent trying to capture a non-blurry blood moon shot in pre-twilight. Failed! Gear not up to the task. Incredibly frustrating if it wasn’t so beautiful. And if that wasn’t enough, as I took my second lap around the park, I was treated to meteor falling straight from the sky. And, no, I wasn’t fast enough to catch that beauty either. Happy Tuesday!


DK Photo: Lunar Eclipse. Beaver Blood Moon. 45° F. 5:02 to 5:20 am. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT. November 8, 2022. (Better seen in person than these blurry shots!)

Monday Morning Wake-Up Call

You have never had it. All the things that have ever deeply possessed your soul have been but hints of it – tantalizing glimpses, promises never quite fulfilled, echoes that died away just as they caught your ear. But if it should really become manifest – if there ever came an echo that did not die away but swelled into the sound itself – you would know it. Beyond all possibility of doubt you would say, “Here at last is the thing I was made for.”  We cannot tell each other about it. It is the secret signature of each soul, the incommunicable and unappeasable want, the thing we desired before we met our wives or made our friends or chose our work, and which we shall still desire on our deathbeds, when the mind no longer knows wife or friend or work. While we are, this is. If we lose this, we lose all.

—  C.S. Lewis, from The Problem of Pain (HarperOne, May 28, 2009)


Quote: Thank you The Hammock Papers

Wally’s Great Adventures (3)

hello everyone, happy sunday. as promised, dad took me to his magic kingdom: cove island park. it’s not exactly how we had it planned.

as dad was downloading his pictures to his computer this morning, he told mom “she seemed off. cormorants don’t let me anywhere near them, highly skittish, yet this one let me approach. i thought she was ill. now i know why.” he asked mom to look closely at the photo.

we hurried to get dressed. i put on my vest. mom found work gloves, pliers and scissors. dad said something about this being a bad omen, with his spirit bird in distress. i barked at dad and told him that i was here now, and everything would be ok. we hurried out to the park to see if we could help her. [Read more…]

Sunday Morning (19 sec)


DK Video @ Cove Island Park @ 5:53 a.m. this morning. Photos from this morning’s walk here.

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