AD's Journal 2024

   if she wants me to stop I will stop it I get confused when she turns the faucet on then off   a mixed message when I'm already puzzled by what she wants or doesn't want and with no means to know which she means does no mean me no   or does it sometimes mean yes the link there less than a week ago suddenly absent and though I know where it ends up I keep from subscribing just the way I kept out of signt all those years ago scared that if I stick my nose in that door   she might slam the door on it better clever elusive than sorry nothing is ever clear with her so I'll go back to where I started   that petulant Frat boy who needs a drink or   do I dunk my head t o wake up to smell if not the roses then reality like it or not   2024 journal menu email to Al Sullivan

  she pulled the link to her YouTube site off her Facebook page I can't be certain as to why but as I said prior to this the medium is the message and I am going to assume she might be sending a message that my contemporary posts have gone too far for her comfort.   so I'm going to cease posting on my poetry site for a while until things cool off unfortunately I have no way of knowing if this is actually anything to do with me or my posts it may be someone else in her life she is trying to avoid and if so I may never know when it is safe to post again despite her sudden Purge her Facebook page again, the link to her videos exist elsewhere and so I can continue to follow her exploits. I simply refused to subscribe to her channel again in an excess of caution since I do not know what she is thinking. I'll also keep posting novel chapters but not to my poetry page and will continue to post these contemporary essays and poems on my contemporary journal page if she w

  We ran into the Small Man last night when we made our way to the historic Hamilton overlook to watch the Macy’s fireworks display in the Hudson River. This was the first year since the early 1990s that the fireworks were displayed on this side of Manhattan rather than on the East River side. I was actually surprised to see the Small Man making his way through the crowds without his usual entourage. I may have been the only one who recognized him as mayor. I had not seen him in a while. His silver hair had turned white, and he looked just a bit weary as he gave us advice as to where we might view the fireworks, best, although by the time we got to the place he suggested the crowds had filled up the place. The park that overlooked the Hudson had been closed to the public with a huge fence keeping people from accessing it, a shame since it provided a large lawn and place to sit. But authorities likely feared people might fall off the cliff which was bordered by a relatively low me

  Ran my car into a fence. So, I won’t be going anywhere for the weekend until I can get it fixed. I don’t drive much these days since I live so close to the light rail station, only the bastards in NJ Transit are playing games with the tickets, similar to what New York does with PATH and metro cards. If you buy them and don’t use them within a certain amount of time, these semi-governmental bodies cancel the card and steal you money. It’s no wonder why people hop turnstiles, figuring to get even for being ripped off by these groups. Went to Bayonne yesterday for the fireworks festival (yes, they celebrating independence day two days prior to the actual date. Since I went south during rush hour, I had no problems making connections. The return trip (after dark since I had to wait for the fire works to start) was a whole different situation, waiting on trains after NJ Transit took most of them out of service, and when they arrived, they had too few cars and so were overflowing w

  The gods ride the waves On the backs of dolphin, As I spy them from shore Coming to me when I Most need them, Back then as well as now, The same thoughts always Running through my head As I step into a dream scape Each time I reach the sea, The ghosts of the past Lingering on the sand, The way foam lingers With the receding waves, And I search the choppy Surface of the sea For signs from the all mighty. Looking to distinguish The rough surface from The dark shapes, Gods coming to me on their backs When ever I plead for relief, In good times or bad. Coming up out of the depths As if just for me.     2024 journal menu email to Al Sullivan

   Just made reservations for our trip to Cape May. We have not yet set a date for our August trip to Woodstock (to make up for the one we usually take in May) but since booking rooms in the Kingston area is a lot easier than getting similar bookings for Victorian Week in Cape May, I got that one out of the way first, with the hope that we will once again see Dolphins (and possibly whales) when we get there as we have in the past. Our seeing both in Asbury late last year was a pleasant surprise, especially because we spotted them just off the shore from the place where our poet did her May Pole dance for her mother just prior to Thanksgiving. There are several ironies associated with them. One of these involved our trip to Cape May in the fall of 2012 when I was in particular strife in regards to the poet, and we saw hundreds of dolphins swimming off shore just as we turned for our return trip north. I wrote a series of poems about the sighting and how seeing them helped me

  She's posting on Facebook again not that she ever stopped I simply didn't have access to the inner workings and still don't . what she's posting now is on the outer most page that anyone can access early on these videos mostly referred to her Joy at being able to ride and how she and her steed are healing together in one of her YouTube videos she briefly mentioned injuring her leg back in 2019 for which she has been receiving treatments several weeks ago she reinjured the lake when she dismounted badly her seed is also recovering from some injury I did not catch and so each ride outside or inside the stable is part of a slow recovery process and a celebration of the joy they share together her most recent post on Facebook took a larger step in revealing the current conditions of her life saying she in commemorating 3 years of sobriety and echo of what she went through back in 2013 after her recovery from cancer only this effort today seems more sincere and not b

  what exactly prompted her to hit my site so often yesterday I can't say perhaps it involved the post about her connection to the mob and the manzo family if so then she'd be even less real with the post about the small man alerting me to the latest of her boyfriend's back in December 2013, a bank robber slated to go to jail in January 2014 though only for a short time suggesting he may have hooked up with yet one more criminal who became a cooperating with this for the feds all this time later I still don't know why the small man needed to tell me perhaps he did not want to see me get physically hurt or suspected I might be wasting tender feelings on a woman who had taken a dark path through life all this painting an ugly portrait of her and seems to confirm that she was in cahoots with others even while working at our office and that I might have derailed some of these plans the reason why she continued to hate me for more than a year after her resignation wow I

  Then as now She needs control To be the person In charge of her Own life, And not to be Under anybody Else’s thumb, Even the rape That must still Haunt her, Is less about sex, Than being Taken advantage of, She had already Given into his hits, He wanted more, Treating her Like a puppet, Drugging her so He could pull her strings, Had he just keep Hitting on her, She might have given in, After all she had Already said “yes” The first time, She might have said Yes again, Only it was never About yes or not, Giving in or not, He needed to Manipulate her, Which must have Scared the bejesus Out of her, More deeply even Than the act itself, She needing to steer Her own yacht, Needing to choose Just whose name Was in her daily planner, Not having it Thrust upon her.     2024 journal menu email to Al Sullivan

  I made the trek back to the old hood in Passaic/Garfield to visit Peggy’s grave. I missed her birthday in May because of too much to do for work. The stuffed bear from   last Christmas was long gone, as was the NY Giant’s pin, the ceramic angel and the remnants of the flowers I left on the 25th anniversary of her death. So, I started over with a new stuffed bear and a single rose. Her older Sister, Susan, who died in 2019, is also buried in the grave, leaving no one but me to make regular visits. I usually time my visits to her with visits to some of my family’s graves – which are located in a nearby cemetery in Lodi – the patriarch of our family, John the Babtist, his son, Egisto (my great grandfather) and his wife, Jennie. This year marks the 100 th anniversary of Egisto’s death and a turning point in my grandfather’s life, since he had full sports scholarship and would have become an architect, had not the family desperately needed him to serve as bread winner. Other fam