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Year’s End (A Prologue) © 2001

by philip scott wikel


Setting out on the prowl now

at “god-speeded” annum’s end

in the darkness and cold of 4am

and my slightly shaken converted garage

settling in the sand of time

when oceans broke down my back alley

and tore at what is now a row

of mexican sage hanging together with roses

and fuchsia…

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Hi Folks,

I hope this post finds you and yours well and celebrating the season in whichever way your tradition dictates. Whether its Kwanzaa or Hanukkah, Solstice or Sadeh, Christmas or Pancha Ganapti, I wish you all the best.

Following is my version of the Winter Tradition; at least as it was when I was a child. Ours, my family’s and mine, was one steeped in the Christian and Secular Tradition. Informed by the Christian Bible and embellished with the story of Old Saint Nick, we observed the birth of Christ and the Spirit of Giving embodied in Santa.

I hope you will enjoy this little story of mine and I also hope you will enjoy the company of good friends and family at this magical time of year. “Magical” in that, for many, all differences are set aside and an overarching sense of togetherness and good will are the markers of these days.

So without further ado, here is my A Child’s Christmas in New England (or somewhere thereabout), inspired by my favorite poet Dylan Thomas who decades ago wrote his A Child’s Christmas in Wales and for who I named my son.

Slainte! Merry Christmas! Le’chayim! Matunda ya kwanza! Feliz Navidad! Etc! Etc!

A Child’s Christmas in New England

by philip scott wikel

One Christmas was never quite like the other in those years in upstate New York, nearby the black dirt and the pines and Sugar Loaf Mountain all covered since Thanksgiving with a healthy velvet of white; slick, crisp and slippery (depending upon the time of day, night or clouds, and angles of the sun).

One Christmas was never quite like another, but all, from the morning of my eyes to the time when this snow-packed, snow-suited, frost-bit and chapped-lip boy went bounding toward the adulthood that swallows us; left as such to wish for the simple truth of a greyish-yellow snowbound sky, and snowflakes that gave chase and cooled the tips of tongues…

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Hi Folks,

I still haven’t written chapter nine but here’s chapter 11. Nine’s going to take a while and some real focus and energy. It has to be right as, like I said before, it’s the turning point of the book.

Thanks again for stopping by.

See ya next time.

Philip

Here We Are Now, a novel of the grunge generation

by philip scott wikel

Chapter Eleven

Like everyone, Dylan had a million random thoughts. Not many liked to admit it and that’s where he had many of his problems with relating.

“How can an asshole wake up an asshole everyday?”

“Why do we poison each other with the crap that’s in food?”

“Why doesn’t Donald Trump get a decent haircut?”

“Where exactly is heaven if telescopes can see as far as they can?”

“Will Charlie Sheen ever make a decent film again?”

“Why doesn’t anyone say what they’re really thinking?”

“Why, after thousands of years of ‘civilization,’ the great achievements of the Greeks, Romans, the dynasties of China, the scholars of the Middle East, the Enlightenment, the Renaissance, worldwide revolutions and world wars has the world still not managed to get it right?”

“Why does Christ get so much compassion when six million Jews experienced far more suffering than He did during World War Two?”

Every morning when I wake up I have to put myself back together. I’m in pieces and my psyche needs to be retrieved and reassembled. Some say it’s evidence of being the Taoist “uncarved block.” Nothing built-in. No expectations, illusions, or pre-conceived notions. Starting fresh every day…

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I’m curious as to why the Scott Aichner interview, ever since it’s posting, has been the overall most visited post on my blog. While Scott is a great guy, my article about him is, in my estimation, only so-so. Why, with so many other postings (nearly 100 of them), have people read that article every day of the week for the past few months or so?

Thanks for stopping by.

See ya next time,

Philip

This book is interesting and important in many of its qualities…

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Ticket to Ride review

trestled and red

Hi All,

I’ve been spending a lot of time with my camera of late so, instead of posting a new chapter of Here We Are Now, I’m posting a link to my photo album.

I hope you’ll find something here of interest to you.

Thanks for stopping by and have a good week.

See ya next time,

Philip

 

Here’s the link:

trestled and red

Chapter 9

Zooropa (How U2’s Fall from Grace was indicative of a problem in the larger picture)

(To be written)

Chapter 10

“Where have you gone Joe Dimaggio, a nation turns its lonely eyes to you.”

- Simon & Garfunkel

In the fall of 2003, Dylan began his third year of Junior College. A personality conflict with one of his high school teachers had resulted in a low grade and being passed over for a baseball scholarship. The teacher had for a long time shown Dylan a sort of special affection. He and Dylan were much the same in many ways; quiet, solitude seekers who believed in the beauty of accomplishments achieved which served the heart. He admired Dylan’s love for baseball because he seemed to truly love the game.

The complication arose from Dylan confiding with the instructor about his girlfriend. Dylan was very much in love with Katie in his senior year. The two were inseparable and, at the same time, very natural together. Their relationship was the envy of many, some became green with it. The instructor warned him away from her. He’d had a bad divorce and was something of a hermit. He told Dylan she would be his undoing. Dylan ignored his advice. He and Katie stuck together until Katie went away to college. And when she left they agreed to leave it be. It happened like this:

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