The beach in Fort Lauderdale from
my aunt Denise and uncle Henry's balcony.
I was in Fort Lauderdale from Dec 27 to Jan 1.
I spent a lot of time in the ocean -- I love it !!
Thank you Yemaya!!!
my aunt Denise and uncle Henry's balcony.
I was in Fort Lauderdale from Dec 27 to Jan 1.
I spent a lot of time in the ocean -- I love it !!
Thank you Yemaya!!!
MY GREYHOUND BUS TRIP 2003-2004
I was traveling by bus from December 27, 2003 to January 10, 2004 from Newark, NJ to Fort Lauderdale, FL, where my aunt and uncle have an apartment, and back again. I also made stops in Melbourne, Fl where another aunt and uncle live and then stopped to visit my friend Kelly who lives outside of Fayetteville, NC, and my friend Orb at his house in Lynchburg, VA.
In total I think I spent about 77 hours on the bus. It sounds like hell..and parts of it were..but it was also interesting to take a close look at places in the south that I'd never seen..
New Years 2004!!!
From right to left--Liam; my cousin Alexis' boyfriend,
my uncle Henry, cousin Alexis, cousin Roseann,
two people who' s names I dont remember,
and in between them, my aunts Anita and Maryann...
New Years 2004!!!
Cousin Roseann, and her mother
--my aunt Maryann...
The sunset in Melbourne, Florida, January 3, 2004
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
SIGN THE GUEST BOOK!!
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
I was traveling by bus from December 27, 2003 to January 10, 2004 from Newark, NJ to Fort Lauderdale, FL, where my aunt and uncle have an apartment, and back again. I also made stops in Melbourne, Fl where another aunt and uncle live and then stopped to visit my friend Kelly who lives outside of Fayetteville, NC, and my friend Orb at his house in Lynchburg, VA.
In total I think I spent about 77 hours on the bus. It sounds like hell..and parts of it were..but it was also interesting to take a close look at places in the south that I'd never seen..
New Years 2004!!!
From right to left--Liam; my cousin Alexis' boyfriend,
my uncle Henry, cousin Alexis, cousin Roseann,
two people who' s names I dont remember,
and in between them, my aunts Anita and Maryann...
New Years 2004!!!
Cousin Roseann, and her mother
--my aunt Maryann...
The sunset in Melbourne, Florida, January 3, 2004
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
SIGN THE GUEST BOOK!!
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
New Years 2004!!!
From right to left--Liam; my cousin Alexis' boyfriend,
my uncle Henry, cousin Alexis, cousin Roseann,
two people who' s names I dont remember,
and in between them, my aunts Anita and Maryann...
From right to left--Liam; my cousin Alexis' boyfriend,
my uncle Henry, cousin Alexis, cousin Roseann,
two people who' s names I dont remember,
and in between them, my aunts Anita and Maryann...
New Years 2004!!!
Cousin Roseann, and her mother
--my aunt Maryann...
The sunset in Melbourne, Florida, January 3, 2004
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
SIGN THE GUEST BOOK!!
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
New Years 2004!!!
Cousin Roseann, and her mother
--my aunt Maryann...
Cousin Roseann, and her mother
--my aunt Maryann...
The sunset in Melbourne, Florida, January 3, 2004
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
SIGN THE GUEST BOOK!!
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
The sunset in Melbourne, Florida, January 3, 2004
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
SIGN THE GUEST BOOK!!
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
SIGN THE GUEST BOOK!!
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
January 6, 2004, 2:00 am
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
VIEW/SIGN MY LIVE JOURNAL
01.28.04
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
traveling by bus through more remote places of the south
reminds me of the past
not automation the pace of rush rush cars whizzing by
slowing to a gentler time women waiting
a full swaying dress gloves hat waiting
for their men in khaki green bright sailor suits
a duffel bag hitting the floor a passionate embrace
the corner store that was owned by your neighbour
a railroad steam engine blowing off smoke heat sparks creaking brakes
as the train slows and stops dust flies up and settles
smiles heels clicking on a wooden sidewalk
before the days of cement construction jackhammers noise began
beyond decibels that humans animal can tolerate
we are not so far away from this
but in so short a time we have lost what i want to relive.
at one time men worked the fields by hand a plow pulled by oxen
and women planted lettuce potatoes carrots radishes made corn bread
raised chickens children gathered eggs finding a hidden nest watching the chicks
grow into pullets/roosters food for the table
this is all that was important
not fame
not possessions
but the simple joy of living through another day
to look at the stars
waiting to travel by the full moon light
to the next town by foot by horse by covered wagon stage coach horse and buggy
again to the train leaving behind horseflesh to be regulated to skittish
racehorse status
and riding horseback trails for commodity only not relied upon for existence
for survival
what is left?
what is right ?
people pushed to the edge
whos world is not bound to the
nuclear machinery generated electronic
technology digital
i remember riding through towns
where the memory of this time
is not lost in a dusty text book
leaves and trash were burned in the yard behind houses
and tumbled down shacks
covered in vines and decay
when I was growing up the fraying remnants
of this time were still within my grasp.
a market at the end of dirt road
a general store packed with goods pots shoes toilet tissue.
the labour of migrant workers, sweatshops factories
moving along
under the eye of the clock
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
My friend Kelly in Fayetteville, NC, January 7, 2004.
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick
about 12 years ago...
I lived with Kelly in New Brunswick about 12 years ago...
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
Mike and Dave eating pizza at Orb's house in Lynchburg, VA, January 9, 2004
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog
Orb in Lynchburg, Va
Spaz the dog