Jay William Henderson (is a) Lonely Man.

In case you've not yet heard this musician or seen this beautifully orchestrated video he unveiled just a couple days ago, allow me to throw back the curtain for you and help do the secondary honors. It's a curious thing, when images are allowed to match up with the sounds you already like so much; I consider this a success on both accounts. I'd love to see if there are more videos to follow but, even if there aren't, this is worthy of playing and replaying, liking and flat out loving.

JAY WILLIAM HENDERSON // Lonely Man - recorded live at the Pleasure Palace from jd brickmaynard cowboy on Vimeo.

what brilliance sounds like.

meanwhile, at the salt flats.

meanwhile, at the salt flats // december 2012

2013, a year to discover.

As it’s so many days into the new year, I feel compelled to collect some thoughts in this space, something I used to do much more. If there’s a reason, perhaps it’ll reveal itself at some point. And, if not, that’s okay, too.

I left my job of three or so years just over a month ago, so I’ve a little more time on my hands than I once did. It’s funny, though: I left a job where I wrote for a living and, in the space of time since, I’ve done relatively little of the sort. It’s been several weeks well spent visiting family, reconnecting with faces and friends I’ve not seen in years and seeing my world cast in an altogether new light and hue. And, in my quieter moments, it must be said, I’ve wondered at what my future might bring, too.

I can’t help but expect good, fulfilling, exciting things to happen this year. I left my job, not because I was entirely unhappy, but because I was in a stagnant place; I didn’t feel like I’d any other choice but to do so. When your gut acts up and says it’s time to push on, you can’t really argue—you feel any kind of fear in the decision and push onward, believing in what’s next. The funny thing is, I felt no fear. I’ve sort of made a life out of not worrying and not fearing and this followed that pattern. Three years is a long time to give yourself to anyone or anything. When the growth has stopped, when there is no longer progress, when you’ve no real goals to aspire towards, you go about finding that new path. That’s where I am, walking to wherever it leads. I see it as a new adventure. I’ve real hope in what’s next. 

Sound of Scampering: The Latest.

For the new readers of this little spot on the Web, I wrote and published a collection of poetry recently. And, for readers both new and old, I have a new website to send to point you towards if you'd like to add a copy to your various piles of books. It just launched last night and isn't the sole place you can place an order (either paperback or electronic versions), but it's a pretty title-specific place to do so. Pretty easy to remember, even. With further adieu then, head towards this spot:

www.soundofscampering.com/

And, in closing, should you grab yourself a copy and have anything to say about what you read or experienced (both good or bad), I'd welcome your comments. If you don't want to say two words, hey, that's fine, too. 

Have a great day. As for myself, the sun's shining where I am and I'm warm. Life's grand, it really is.

How to be small.

st. augustine beach // november 2012

Taking the Hands.

Taking the hands of someone you love,
You see they are delicate cages . . .
Tiny birds are singing
In the secluded prairies
And in the deep valleys of the hand.

"Taking the Hands" by Robert Bly, from Silence in the Snowy Fields.

Coming at you from 1857.

there is a light that never goes out

Some time ago, this space used to be about experiences I had as a guy who used to dress up like Elvis on occasion and sing telegrams for fistfuls of dollars. That didn’t last all that long. It then became a place where I could share the sights and sounds of the various parts of the world I traveled with my last job, which went on to last for years on end. Now it’s, well, I’m not entirely sure what it’s become. A mixed bag of sorts? Something all new? In the spirit of its beginnings then, here’s a snapshot of that present.

The Sound of Scampering.

  

I've been a little busy these past six months. There was a personal project I wanted to tackle, once and for all, just because I hadn't tried hard enough to make it happen in the past. It wasn't necessarily easy to do, but few things worth doing are ... and it's beyond gratifying to have seen this through to completion. My heart is light. My level of excitement is a little through the roof at this exact moment (though I'm remarkably composed, so there).

Having said all of that, I'm able to at last share this with all those who might be even moderately interested. I've written and pieced together my first collection of poetry and it's here for you, should you want a copy. It's fifty poems, some new and some old, that I've written and edited over and over again during the past 20 years. 

One final note. You're not necessarily peering into my diary by reading these—while the poetry's largely inspired by true events, it's not nonfiction by any means—but you are hearing my heart and soul. If you scoop yourself up a copy, I sure hope you enjoy it. (An electronic version should be available shortly but, until then, you get a real live book, written by a real live boy.) 

  

Look, Ma! I'm on Amazon! 

Wordless Wednesday.

Let's stretch out this Monday.

Today is over in less than an hour and it's not enough. I need more. I need hours to shove into this hour. I can't say there's a real reason for me to be up and doing and thinking. I'm plenty tired, it's true. I've talked with those I care for, eaten food I liked, made it to the gym, put in several hours in a row at work, read some, written some more, laughed some belly laughs, caused others and on and on.

I also put some finishing touches on something I would only think about doing for a number of years. There were starts and stops, stops and starts. These past six months, I decided, once and for all, to put those dreams into action. And it unfolded. And, step by sometimes aggravating step, it became more and more of a reality. There's a lot of happiness in that. It satisfies a deep, deep desire of my heart to almost be at that finish line. And, now that the end is finally in sight, what's next? What else lies in store?

For starters, I can finally morph into one of those old men on a rocking chair, out on a porch, talking about the approaching storm, smiling, peering into that great beyond and wondering where the day's gone and how is it they keep getting shorter and I got to get up earlier tomorrow to get more out of it than I did today.

Dare.

No vanity.

The Next Distraction.

When things went ahead and eked to a slow and a stop (as most things are wont to do), she made sure to say, in some of those last words, “On to the next distraction then.” I suppose that, if she’d actually spoken them out loud, I’d have heard the hurt a little louder and sensed the anger a bit more readily. There’d have been eye windows to peer into and heightened inflections and body language and a myriad of other pieces to go about reading and observing. As it was, we didn’t do things that way very well. Instead, I had to feel what it was she’d written. There was quiet discernment and there was understanding.  

Happy Halloween from the Headless Horseman!

Someone snapped a photo of me working at my cubicle.

This beautiful now.

They say it’s best to focus on the present. That the past is gone and forgotten, filled with a string of events we can’t change, that the present is yet to be, so we needn’t pine for it. The present, then, is what we’re left with. We’re to simply be and enjoy the events of our days, as they take place. Doing so allows us to be grateful for those unknowns that have yet to happen but will. And, the more we do it, the more we cultivate this behavior in ourselves, the easier it becomes. We’re unhurried. We enjoy. We admire. It’s a bit of a challenge, but one I’m all for. I’m known for falling headfirst into a vat of nostalgia on a regular basis, it’s true, and I’ve any number of things to look forward to at any given time (and plenty I could list here if I wanted) but the present! Ah, the present. That’s the real adventure.