pitchers tuck by buddy don: a garden grows in staten island

thays a garden over in staten island that ye caint fine the lack of nowhars else here in amurka on a counta tiz a chinese skolars garden. tiz a place bilt fer contemplayshun n meditayshun. me n miz bd wood bild us one ifn we wuz to win the lottery or sumthin, witch that aint lackly, so thisn is a'gone half to do ...

one thang different bout it is how tiz all enclozed in walls ...



ye kin fine all kindsa lil nooks n crannies ...



... witch ye kin walk rite into em sos ye kin sit n meditate or contemplate thangs ...



everwhar ye turn, thays a purty vue









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eggscuses of buddy don: uplodin pitchers

pall gies fer not postin today, but i have spent my hole mornin uplodin pitchers i tuck last evenin at a volunteer softball game one of the groups in our cumpny wuz a'havin. they wuz kind a nuff to ast me wood i take pitchers thar, so i dun it, but uplodin em has tuck all mornin so far.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: the tank, the hole tank n nuthin but the tank

i aint felt lack botherin them critters a nuff to git sum new pitchers of them crawdads, witch thay must be ten or twenty of em by now. tiz hard to tell on a counta them moltin, witch they lacks to bury tharself whenever they do that. but heres the hole tank fer a change ...



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eggscuses of buddy don: a lil under the weather

pall gies fer not bloggin yesterdy, but me n miz bd wuz a lil under the weather on a counta thay wuz this airloom tomater sale, witch ye kin eat too minny tomaters to whar ye git the runs, jes in case ye dint know. i feel wore plum out even today, witch we are much better now if a lil tarrd.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: vue frum navesink highlands lighthouse

thays a nuther lighthouse besides the one out on sandy hook, witch tiz in atlantic highlands. after me n miz bd had watched them paragliders fer a while, we wonted to eat, witch we lack a place name of bahrs landin (pitchers on the way), but they dint open till 11:30, so we went up into the navesink highlands lighthouse, witch it has two lighthouse towers.

this first pitcher is a wide angle vue showin ye sandy hook across from whar the navesink river dumps into the bay thar, witch thats whar all them folks is paraglidin n windsurfin. in the far distunts ye kin see brooklyn n man hattan ...



heres a closer shot of the same thang ...



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: tricky stairs

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: more sandy hook

after drivin to the end of it, me n miz bd drove back along sandy hook a'lookin fer whut folks wuz doin. we knew they wuznt eatin strate from the water:



ifn i had seen a sine lack that, i mite not be willin to go in, but thay wuz a reason folks mite wonta:



corse, twernt only windsurfin they wuz a'doon. looked to us lack the paraglidin wuz even more fun, witch in this pitcher ye kin see a wind surfer in the foreground n a paraglider in the back:



as ye kin see, they kin even fly, witch heres one of em paragliders a'doin it:



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pitchers tuck by buddy don: sandy hook

on saturdy me n miz bd gut us one of them zip cars, witch ye order it in add vants n then walk up at the time tiz yourn n stick yer card over a lil sticker n nex thang ye know, the locks open, ye git n thar is the key. we had us quite a day, startin off by a drive down to sandy hook new jersey, witch tiz a lil spit of land jes off a place name of atlantic highlands. we wuz thar a time or two befor, but we dint have no idee jes how big that spit of land wuz nor how much wuz a'goin on with it. i tuck a slew of pitchers, so heres a few of em ...

furst thays this light house, witch twuz the furst one bilt in the united states, furst doin its duty back in 1764 n continuin to this verr day ...


we wint by a museeum to see how thay make so much lite, witch tiz a trick of mirrors n this speshul glass ...




we also gut out n walked roun on the beaches (we had other plans fer the day, so we dint stay too long). frum sandy hook ye kin look back tords the city, ceptn whut ye see is furst brooklyn n then the taller bildins of man hattan ...


baywatch, jersey-style ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: waitin fer that thar sunrise n ferry

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secret plans of buddy don: sorta kinda more eggscuses

i know i aint had time to do much in the way of bloggin here lately, but thats on a counta havin sum innerestin thangs in the wurks that i caint hardly wait to tell ye bout but since thays secrets fer the current spell, i caint say much. but i kin give ye a cuple hints.

thays a cuple thangs i wonta be a'tellin ye bout soon n i thank ye will lack em. twill be a chants fer ye to git yer hands on sum thangs that wuz only on yer screen up to now.

n thays more, but i caint tell ye much bout it yet.

thang is, thays a lot of wurk rapped up in the sprizes i am hopin to sprang on ye soon.

so please be payshunt n keep cummin back. i caint even say my ownself when i will be able to make my secrets publick ... but i caint hardly wait!

n i am hopin to have em reddy ere me n miz bd flies off to ireland fer the weddin of loretta to paddy ...

but ifn ye wonta, ye kin jes take all this chatter as sorta kinda more eggscuses fer why i aint bloggin ...

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pomes of buddy don: no time

No Time

I could make rhymes, but there's no time,
Besides, I've no idea –
So let me go now even though
I can't say more than, "See ya!"

(fergive the lack of inny ritin much these days. i been readin a grate manuscrip (jes finished it!) n wurkin lack crazy (on a job i luv, witch that mite be part of the problem).

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eggscuses of buddy don: no time to blog

yesterdy wuz a verr long day fer me n miz bd. then when i gut up, i couldnt do nuthin but read bout how karl rove has dun claimd he wuz leavin early. thay must be sumthin more to that, witch i caint hep but be curyas.

but tiz time fer me to git!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: hot august in brooklyn

twuz a verr hot day on sundy, but me n miz bd wint to that garden innywho. heres a cuple pitchers of them amazin water lilies, witch even king solomon aint gut nuthin on them when it cums to gittin spruced up ...







the beeyootifull flower of the sacred lotus ends up a'lookin lack a ugly mess, but tiz frum this that nex years sacred lotuses will cum ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: take me out to that thar ballgame

caught stealin ...






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wurklife of buddy don: volunteerin!

bein frum the grate state of tennessee lack i am, ye fine yerself always gittin into thangs on a counta whenever sumbidy asts whuther thay is inny volunteers, ye gut to step up n brag bout how thats jes whut ye are. sum folks thanks thats a crazy way to ack, but today is one of them days that makes it all wurthwhile.

ye mite could member bout how sum years ago i tuck a volunteer spot with the poe-leece athletick league rookie baseball program, witch goodbank has been supportin thatn fer twelve years. bein that i kep showin up, i made it up to assistant commishuner, wurkin long side a good frien of mine name of sanjay, who hes the commishuner. innywho, today we are takin them kids out to see the mets play agin them braves. twill be a tuff day of wurk -- the games cummences at 12:05, leavin preshuss lil time to do innythang else -- but i will take my camra (fixed) n try to make it thru the best way i kin.

have i menchunned lately how i am proof that blessins abound even fer the undeeservin? if not, let me menchun it now n point out how i am proof of it.

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pomes of buddy don: The Craven

The Craven
(with apologies to Edgar Allen Poe)

Once upon a newsday showing on TV the pundits glowing
Over many a quaint and curious question from us all –
While I viewed it nearly sleeping, frustrated almost to weeping
At the strange responses coming, coming like a newsy scrawl
That was scrambled, jumbled, jangled till I could not read it all
“Perhaps,” I thought, “the font’s too small.”

Ah, distinctly I can see it: Alfredo, he wished to flee it,
Dodging the interogation like it was a funeral pall –
Senators, they sought an answer, but the AG was a dancer,
Dancing round the questions asked him like a tumbler on a ball,
Hiding honesty he owed us, with the words we hate to scrawl:
Quoth the craven, “Don’t recall.”

These two words he kept repeating, like a lost lamb bleating, bleating,
As if wolves were threatening to beat and eat him in a brawl –
Could there be no truth inside him? or no laws to stand astride him
As he showed the world a strain of pure unprecedented gaul?
Or were we to sit and gaze, amazed and yet still held in thrall?
Quoth the craven, “Don’t recall”

One could write a thousand verses and not cover all the curses
That our very founding fathers would so horribly appall –
Did they risk their reputations, lives and fortunes in creation
Of our nation just so such evil misfortune could befall
Us in a time of war, a time when good men should stand tall?
Quoth the craven, “Don’t recall.”

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pomes of buddy don: The Freedom We Held Dear

The Freedom We Held Dear

The British couldn’t do it though they tried
When thirteen colonies were all we were –
We would not let the fear of death decide
Which form of government we would prefer.

And in this land of partisan extremes
Even the civil war could not rewrite
The liberty and freedom of our dreams
For though divided, fear was not our plight.

Nor could the powers of last century –
The Nazis and the Soviets and more –
Divert us from our place in history
Or sacrifice the rights that we adore.

And yet in six short years through use of fear
We’ve given up the freedom we held dear.

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quik note of buddy don: back, but still wurkin

tiz a grate blessin to have a job ye luv as much as i am luvin mine at the moment, but it do tend to git in the way of mos everthang else.

the trip wuz fantastick. i gut a lot dun, gut to have dinner with one of my best friends at the montgomry inn follerd by ice cream at a place name of graeters, witch ifn ye git a chants sum time when yer in or round cincinnati, ye orta try ye sum.

then we had us a good time on saturdy, witch twuz jessicas burthdy n paddy had dun hisself proud, gittin us one of them roof top places fer the eevent n puttin out fanger foods n such. he woodnt even let me pay fer a sangle malt fer myself n miz bd.

now we are countin the days till the weddin on september 22. we gut sum grate news bout folks attendin, speshly the mother of the brides mother ...

i will try to git my bloggin back on track in the nex day or so.

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wurklife of buddy don: how that new jobs a'goin

i reckun innybidy that reads this here blog reglar lack knows how i dun tuck a job earlier this munth. i jes wonted to let ye know that tiz a grate job with a fine bunch of folk n tiz a'doon sumthin i bleeve in cumpletely name of 'knowledge management,' witch everbidy knows bout how it needs to be managed, speshly fer a help desk.

tuther half of that new job is how tiz a lot of wurk n leaves less time fer ritin this here blog. besides that, tiz a longer commute. finely, twill take me on a trip to ohio to visit our hep desk. twood be nice ifn i could visit a verr speshul person that lives thar, but i wont git no chants on a count travelin with my new boss n not havin no car of my own n only bein thar frum windsdy evenin till fridy afternoon.

so ifn i caint blog durin that time, ye will alreddy know the reason why.

meanwhile, today we are havin whut they lacks to call a 'off-site' thats a'goin on all day long. thang bout this off-site is how it will take place in a confernts room that aint a city block frum my desk.

i hope all yall is doin grate this fine day!

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acksidents of buddy don: oh no! the camra!

over the weekend i had a lil acksident that rilly hurt: we wuz a'gittin reddy to go out fer dinner with all three of the kids n thar partners n sum relativs visitin frum the czech republick when i notissd i needed to feed the fish ere we left. i had the camra on n spillt the fish food. so i putt the camra down on a tabull n gut reddy to clean up the spillt food when i herd a crash ye dont never wonta here, witch thats the sound made by the camra hittin the groun. hard. hard a nuff that thangs wuz broke n aint no thang on that camra that dont cost ye a purty penny.

we spent the furst part of the day yesterdy visitin b&h n gittin thangs fixed agin, witch the flash wuz killt ded ceptin thays a chants of reepair. the rest of the camra wuz a lil slow to git a'goin, but once it gut good n reebooted, it seems to be a'wurkin agin. twuz a bit of verr good luck that the lens dint git shatterd or broke no way.

by the way, the meal wuz on saturdy nite at vatan n twuz a verr nice evenin. me n miz bd wuz touched by how them kids had dun made thar own plans fer whut to do after eatin. we lack how they all git along so well ...

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pomes of buddy don: What Happens?

What Happens?

The sun each instant sends us energy
That can be captured best by chlorophyl –
Instead of being lost through entropy –
It’s stored as sugars, earth’s needs to fulfill.

The sun’s free energy is tightly bound
In cells that multiply, in plants that grow,
And die only to build up fertile ground
As eons upon eons slowly flow.

What happens then when in a century –
A brief time in the history of earth –
We humans tap into the energy
That has been building since our planet’s birth?

Our atmosphere is flooded with the store
Of all the CO2 captured before.

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pomes of buddy don: What He Cannot Know

What He Cannot Know

We’re supposed to believe his predictions –
Although they’re consistently incorrect
Involving obvious contradictions
Between claims we aren’t supposed to connect.

For he was the one who claimed we would find
Such weapons of mass destruction that we
Could not sleep at night, have no peace of mind,
Till we had turned them into useless debris.

And have we forgotten his famous claim
That we would soon capture, dead or alive,
The al qaeda leader of nine one one fame,
Who uses Iraq to help his group thrive?

So why should we buy what he cannot know
When he claims they’ll follow us home if we go?

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: street fair

tuther day me n miz bd gut ourself stuck in a street fair, witch thays a minny of em up in here, mosly all the same kinda thang. whilst miz bd wuz shoppin, i wuz shootin frum the hip n gut a few shots of the fair n foul n hungry n hatted ...









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pitchers tuck by buddy don: a garden ye never git tired of

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pomes of buddy don: A Very Simple Man

A Very Simple Man

He is a very simple man who thinks
In starkly childlike terms of either/or –
Who could debase the puzzles of the Sphinx
To parodies of what they were before.

His battle then is not for hearts and minds –
For all to him are either good or bad –
From nuance and complexities he blinds
Himself to sidestep what would drive him mad.

For how could he be sure no matter what
That everything he did was just and good
If he were ever forced to give his thought
To quand’ries that cannot be understood?

Such hubris is the classic tragic flaw –
As is attacking bad men made of straw.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: weekend plans

i am a'hopin that this weekend me n miz bd kin git the kinda pitcher of them sacred lotus blossoms we been a'trine to git fer a cuple years since i tuck a pitcher that has been used a cuple times as a stock foto. we wint a cuple weeks ago n seen how thar a'gittin reddy ...


as ye kin see, them yaller blossoms is dun alreddy thar, but the magick fer us is in the charles thomas with the pink blooms. taint that them yallers is innythang but purty, jes that we lack them pinkuns ...


nuther thang we hope to do is to git over to jessicas place sos we kin git a pitcher of the weddin dress, witch she n paddy is a'gittin marrd in september over in ireland ... n we kin hardly wait fer it!

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pomes of buddy don: Who cares what he does?

Who cares what he does, he makes no mistakes
Let’s make no mistake about that, OK?
It’s such hard work with a lot of bad breaks –
He can’t be blamed for anarchic delay!

So who cares what happened? He’s not to blame –
At least he would never admit it to us –
It could be Shinseki, Pace or what’s-his-name –
It’s soon to be David Petraeus!

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: everone tells a lil story

walkin in sunshine ...


look, up in the sky, tiz a bird ... a plane ...


a new amurkin gothick ...


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pitchers tuck by buddy don: calm

this here pitchers one i tuck last fridy at the bbg. tiz one that seems to me to be the verr essence of calm ...



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pomes of buddy don: Our Ally

Our Ally

Bush once proclaimed for all the world to hear
That every nation had a choice to make:
Those who stood with us would have no fear
While those who did not would rue their mistake

The central front, he claimed, would be Iraq
Where our brave soldier targets are quagmired –
(We can’t escape till Bush runs out the clock
So we’ll be there until his term's expired.)

Yet Pakistan’s al qaeda is revived –
Since nine eleven it’s not been so strong –
Our lust to get Osama was short-lived
While his to terrorize us has gone long.

The terrorists now rule Waziristan!
Harbored by someone's ally, Pakistan.

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pomes of buddy don: Collaterally Damaged

Collaterally Damaged

Collaterally damaged I’m as dead
As if I had been murdered in cold blood –
As if a terrorist chopped off my head –
As if the mine I stepped on was no dud.

Collaterally damaged I leave friends,
My co-workers, my family behind
To question why and how and to what ends
My dying innocent should be defined.

Collaterally damaged I’m a cause
For anger and a longing for revenge
Against those whose war plans were filled with flaws
As they pursued their own wrongs to avenge.

Is there an end that such death justifies?
Perhaps, but not in wars begun by lies.

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pomes of buddy don: The Arguments of Hate

The Arguments of Hate

Terrorism is a mental illness
That travels as disease among mankind,
Infecting souls in movement and in stillness
With arguments that linger in the mind.

It thrives where mass resistance is brought low
By policies and actions that debase
An oppressed people who want quid pro quo
Against a greater force they can’t erase.

In such a people arguments resound
That power must by evil be addressed,
That violation of their holy ground
Legitimize the acts of terrorists.

No army on earth could inoculate
A land against the arguments of hate.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: fun in the summertime

today i start my new job, witch i hope i lack it as much as this feller lacks his job ...





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reeports of buddy don: up date on the tank

sum of ye that reads this here blog reglar knows me n miz bd gut us a tank of fish n other critters. i aint reeported much on it lately, so heres a lil update of whuts been happenin.

furst, them crawdads has been multiplyin lack nobidys bizzness. thays at lease 8 liluns, witch thar almos impossibull to git into a pitcher on a counta they keep alive by hidin mos all the time.

secunt, it appears that thays more on the way.

nuther innterestin thang is how killer (the big crawdad with the brite blue claws) went fer weeks after the furst liluns wuz born without hardly movin nor nuthin, even tho he wudnt moltin. then he run into one of his own liluns n ever since hes been all over the tank, kindly lack he wuz a'lookin fer a fite with one of em. thar too smart to git too close.

but that dont mean thar too smart to keep away frum them cichlids. tuther mornin we woke up n seen a big fish that look lack it had sumthin verr rong with its mouth (more on that problem in a mint). turnt out to be the last bits of the tail of one of them crawdads. caint say fer shore ifn twuz a live one or maybe the molt of one that had dun lef its shell behind.

finely thay wuz a big ole fite in the tank twixt big red, who hes been the big fish of the tank fer nigh onto a year, n bluemouth, a yunger fish that had growd up so big that it could challenge red. thang wuz, they gut into a face to face, mouth to mouth fite, n bluemouth cum out with a verr disfiggerd face while red cum out with a bit of clown mouth (a white circle round the mouth). they gut to ailin till finely bofem died of thar wounds on the verr same day. me n miz bd hadnt never seen nunthin lack that happen befor.

corse, as ye mite eggspeck, thays a new big fish thats makin sum of the lilns hide ...

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celebrayshuns of buddy don: vaclavs birthdy ... n our cuntrys too

yesterdy we had us a grate time over at ellens stardust diner, witch thats a diner on broadway that feetchurs sangin waitstaff. turns out thays only one broadway musickull up at present that dont have a former waitstaffer frum ellens.

we wuz thar sos we could celebrate the birthdy of vaclav, witch hes frum the czech republick. ifn the laws pertected everbidy the same in this cuntry, vaclav wood lackly be a amurkin by now ceptn we dont give the same rights to gay folks that everbidy else gits (he n jack have dun been together fer at lease 7 years).

but hes as amurkin as amurka will let im be so we had us a grate time. also joinin us wuz jacks sister loretta, her intended paddy n my yungster name of tony. ifn yer ever up to visit man hattan, ye mite wonta visit ellens stardust diner. the sangin is grate n the food we had wuz jes fine.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: independents day

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pomes of buddy don: The Rule of Law

The Rule of Law is obviously not
Their cup of tea since they believe they are
Past paying for their crimes if they are caught –
Besides their crime involved not one cigar.

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pitchers tuck by buddy don: the dyke march

tuther day me n miz bd run into the new york city dyke march, witch tiz one of the acktivities of pride munth. since we wuz cummin home frum a visit to bof the bronx zoo n the new york botanickull garden (thar right close to each other), we wuz bofus wore plum out, so whenever we run into this years new york city dyke march, i dint hardly git no pitcher wurth seein ceptn fer thisn, witch it shows ye how folks wuz havin em a real good time ...



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