Daily Archives: April 12, 2015


“Stream” might still be important.


This is the same as George Harris’ Son’s Branch, the one looping around our Blue Mountain house. It has its origins on the north side of Herman Park. Protected. But then shortly entering unprotected area as it snakes toward our house, our neighborhood. Our degenerated ridge. Along the way it passes through Harrisonia — unprotected, true, but still with energy. A shed sits in the middle: Harrisonia Central. Who put this shed there? Did they build it on the spot?

From the same 2008 post, CREEK is now called Tile Creek, more commonly known as Yards Creek, however, to non-Tilists. RIVER is the same as Spoon Fork, the main waterway of Frank Park. Not yet known about at the time of this post is Whitehead Crossing, and the importance of its Green Stream lying kind of in the middle of all 3.

The designations have changed. The flows have become more personalized. All revolves, seemingly, around Whitehead Crossing now. Red Head, Greenhead, Whitehead. Blue Skies Mr. above all.



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Filed under Blue Mountain, Frank Park, Harrisonia, Herman Park, Spoon Fork, Tile Creek, Whitehead Crossing

Regrets. I will…

… never really return to the Yang world of the stream bend surrounding my house.


Shortly after moving into our current house in spring ’98, I thought this area would be a new center, an *intra* hiking region to balance the extra-hiking area all around. It even wrapped itself up as a sphere or planet of some type, as the beginning of the stream looped around and ate, snake-like, the end of the stream. This is George Harris’ Son’s Branch.

Things happened. A huge development was built on the mountain beyond ours, and just above the falls area pictured at the first of this post. A town, really, of about 900 people, all students. But even before this our neighborhood was degenerating. The house next door was enlarged on our side, with a protective bank of rhododendrons essentially destroyed in the process. Then the neighbors moved out, and the place became a student rental. Students again. At another point, the nice neighbor across the street who lived alone in her house perched on a rock above GHS stream decided she needed more room and left the community. It too has become essentially a student rental, and probably always will be. The neighbors who lived on the opposite side, a nice elderly couple from South Carolina who weren’t up much, decided to sell their house. It too became essentially a rental unit. The couple that extended their house toward ours built a huge new house at the end of the road in former wilderness. There was really not room for this house. It also intruded on my intra-hiking region. The end of this same ridge was suppose to be the site of a shed, a new center to balance our house.

I still regret not having this shed, this intra-center. I should have developed it. But it’s all water under the bridge now. I cannot tolerate the new noises of the neighborhood, especially coming from the student town on the hill just above (sound condition again coming into play here). Whatever dreams we had for the house were shortlived, really. We do not plan for this to be a retirement home. But, then again, Edna expressed to me that she would like to have another house in Blue Mountain to replaced the present one, but admitted it was probably not practical at this point. We are close to work. I am close to my beloved Frank and Herman Parks. We are in an excellent location still, even if the neighborhood did not progress as we wanted it to. The dream of an intra-space is destroyed. I’ll have to look back on my notes.



I suppose when I created this post in early 2008, and also this one…


… the dream was still alive a bit — not totally destroyed. This was before the student town. This was before the giant new house at the end of the road. This was before all of our surrounding neighbors moved to other locations. It may have even been before the neighbors extended their house toward us — the beginning of the end. Now we are the only ones left.


Filed under Blue Mountain


“Carrcassonnee is not going to return to groundside Collagesity. She’s made up her mind. She will remain in the skybox until the day Collagesity is no more. You might as well build the temple around her in disguise.”


Hmmm. The Skies. Like Herman’s mansion?


Hucka D.:

You might as well give[ Collagesity] up. It can return later. The focus should be on OUT THERE. While you still have it.


I could rent a 4096 later… for experiments. I have Crow the Keyboard, the new baby of the house. I need to work on protecting the carrcasses more, obviously.

Hucka D.:

What’s to think about?


But this *would be it*[ for Collagesity].

Hucka D.:



Let me think about it. I suppose I could talk to Carrcassonnee still.

Hucka D.:

She’s upset with you.


Ah, I don’t blame her.

Hucka D.:

Will take a bit of time to get over.


Hucka D. had to fly away to take care of some pleasure in Frogtown, US of A, as he put it. I suspect Jennifer may be involved once more. Must, then, think of the possibilities for Collagesity. In the virtual world I am essentially alone. Also, my facebook connections are weakened. There is no support group, really, for audiovisual synchronicity any more, unlike the olden golden days. I have not had any real collagist/artistic friends in a while. My work co-workers are either transferring or distancing themselves from me, it seems. I have to think alone these days — it is best perhaps. What do *I* want?

Well, I want to stay in the house we have for the period we remain in Blue Mountain. Edna and I talked about that yesterday, among other things. We had a bit of a fight in Abington, very similar to the one we had almost exactly a year ago in the same town and under the same circumstances. Queer. I expressed my recent disappointment in Charleston[ SC] somewhere along the way. I don’t like the coffee as much, I don’t like the food as much, and I don’t like the beer as much. But we can work around this. We have Folly Beach now: more of a focus with its healthier seafood critters and seaside beer of 2 types that I still certainly enjoy and are worth the prices. Folly is still a good place. Part of it is people — a big part. People don’t eat as healthy as they use to, and food is increasingly fried and not boiled. Same thing for the baked and stuffed potatoes we once enjoyed in Blue Mountain. Salad bars have been kind of ruined by dessert bars — more unhealthiness.

I need a break from eating out. I have a sound condition. I don’t really like most craft beers. Middletown is a center of craft beers, but I will most likely not be playing a significant role in the revolution. I need to cut back on drinking a bit.

We have a triangle of influences, a secondary color triad. Like in The Who song, the new boss has become the same as the old boss. Movement away. I thought about this triangle while sitting on Grey Seal a couple of years back. It hasn’t really changed all that much.


I had a dream of a giant snake, once more. All it wanted to do is to live. We could not allow that. It was *crafty*. Last night I dreamed of alligators coming to get me on a sandy isle. Some snakes there too.

The work pressures of last year have lessened but the energy has transmuted. Things are changing; things are moving apart now. Spread out. I wonder if Carrcassonnee considers herself the Real McCoy still. But that must be the direction I am moving to now. A new center. We’ll see.

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Filed under Blue Mountain, Charleston, Frank Park, Whitehead Crossing