Blank mind in daytime hours. Night mind at rest stuffed with latent flotsam. To reconcile impossible. In sleep, what’s behind the wall stirs. To empty into linear thought, an uncertain task. In waking, the trivial seeds itself deep in dry barren soil. Buried even deeper dwells the core. I seek only to scrape down and gaze upon it for a moment.
All posts by sean
reclaiming sunday from ambiguity
Readers of previous incarnations of this blog may recall past reflections on my ambiguous feelings toward Sundays. Many people I’ve talked to who report for work without fail on Monday mornings share these ambiguous feelings. Sunday is supposedly part of the weekend, but it often feels like a day of counting the hours down to the start of another work week. Today I decided, not quite consciously, to fill my Sunday with activities in order to distract myself from thinking about the inevitable surrender of my time tomorrow to the people who cut my paycheck. I rose early and joined my good friend betes for a brisk birding jaunt through Fort McHenry. We ended up with a total of 15 species, not bad for the first day of February and without even entering the woods. From there I hit the grocery store for the week’s shopping (not exactly fun, but necessary and capable of producing a feeling of accomplishment). An unseasonably warm afternoon inspired me to seize the bike by the horns (i.e. handlebars) and cruise the county roads for a couple of hours. This adventure confirmed my suspicion that I had indeed fallen badly out of shape. A winter without a gym membership was apparently a bad idea. Anyway, back home from my ride I dashed out a spate of cooking, then gobbled up dinner. Now I am in repose, imbued with the pleasant weariness that results from a fully active day. Sunday blues, I have vanquished you!
Posted by sean on February 1, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/02/01/reclaiming-sunday-from-ambiguity/
a prelude
Acrid winds from the past barely flutter past these days. It’s been longer than I can remember stillness such as this. Meditation in the moment comes more easily and more frequently, not always lacking in blackened tinges, but welcome nonetheless. And yet the rudderless voyage remains: the spinning in place, the lack of any one singular focus. I can’t ever tell if this is just my fate or my fatal flaw. The present state is not a bitter complacency such as I’ve tasted before, but still I feel tugs and yanks from deeper, richer corners of my psyche: roiling wells that have been tapped before and bubble over in anticipation of release again.
Posted by sean on January 27, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/01/27/a-prelude/
pedestrian non grata
At the bottom of the hill there is a traffic light. If I push the button on the pole, the light will turn red, the white “Walk” signal will light up, and I can safely cross the street in the crosswalk. This is all in theory, of course. In actual practice, I push the button on the pole, the traffic light turns red, the “Walk” signal lights up, I step into the crosswalk, and at least one, if not two, cars promptly run the red light and narrowly avoid hitting me. This is not an occasional occurrence. This happens every single time I cross this street. Every time without fail. Frequently I watch people with determined looks on their faces punch the gas as the light turns yellow then red before they have even reached the white line. I then pause in the middle of the crosswalk as the force of their passing vehicle’s speed practically knocks me over. Other times the drivers wear blissful unconcerned expressions as they sail through the red light, very nearly running over my foot or striking my knee with their front bumper. Often one hand clamps a cell phone to a fleshy cheek like some vulgar plastic appendage, as vacant eyes either fail to notice the 6 foot 2 man in the middle of the street or simply choose to ignore him. This morning once again as I reached the middle of the crosswalk, a middle-aged woman in an SUV paused uncertainly at the red light for a split second before racing forward, eyes locked ahead with a crooked half-smile hung on her porcine visage. I stood so close I could see her pores. This light basically exists to serve the pedestrians, as there is no direct cross street that the light also controls. Drivers know this and so they know that they can run this light without the possibility of striking another car, which would thus put themselves and their vehicle in danger. But when the element of personal danger to one’s own self is removed, every driver morphs into a scofflaw on the roads. And who cares about the person walking in the street? They are merely obstacles in the way. As a pedestrian in a major U.S. city, I see the worst of this behavior exhibited in humanity every day and it makes me both sick to my stomach and sick in my heart.
Posted by sean on January 15, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/01/15/pedestrian-non-grata/
empty
I really don’t have much to say. I’ve been dealing with an extremely frustrating situation that has drained my energy and sapped all creativity out of me. I am like a piece of bleached driftwood, weathered and dull grey from the crashing waves. I’m weary of living in the too-close vicinity of hostile thoughtless human beings. I want my own castle, and I want to build a moat around it to keep out everyone except those who I choose to allow entrance. I am trapped and I don’t like being trapped. I feel exhausted and powerless. I just want peace and quiet. I too easily absorb the energy in my surroundings and this is a heavy burden.
In better news, the first new bird of the New Year was spotted at Patuxent River State Park on January 3rd. It was a Golden-crowned Kinglet. First spotted by my good friend AR, then ID’d by me. That takes care of the kinglets for me (there are only two). I spotted the Ruby-crowned Kinglet at Lake Roland one day back in the early fall. It landed about a foot away from me. I’m getting better at IDing birds based on their behavior. When we first spotted the bird, I immediately thought it might be a kinglet because of its size (they’re tiny) and how it was moving. They hover along branches to feed, rarely pausing at all.
Posted by sean on January 9, 2009
https://sd-stewart.com/2009/01/09/empty/
Empty nest syndrome
Beehive stencil under the bridge near the post office
Mysterious “4” stencil
Evidence of stenciling activity
More “4” stencil action
No loitering under the bridge! Two weird mysteries noted under the bridge: 1) a bike had obviously been ridden through the mud (there were fresh tracks), and at the end of the bike tracks lay the bike itself (a crappy Pacific mountain bike); and 2) an entire swingset was set up under the bridge, not looking abandoned but like it was intentionally set up to be used. No other evidence of life forms.
That’s all I’ve got, except to say that this website is hilarious! I love it!
Posted by sean on December 12, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/12/12/144/
entering the dark cave
Receiving the first electric/gas bill of the winter season always horrifies me. For the past two years, it has been particularly horrifying due to 14 ft ceilings and huge drafty windows. If I could levitate, I would rise up and bask in the layer of warm air that is inevitably hovering in the upper two feet of space below the ceiling, far out of reach of those of us subject to gravity’s pull. But instead I spent my day climbing up and down a giant ladder in order to cover the windows with plastic in a pathetic attempt to winterize the place. When I did this at my last place, one of my cats immediately proceeded through the house to all the windows and systematically clawed through every single sheet of plastic. I nearly broke down and cried. This year I decided to seal up the French doors leading out to the porch, too, seeing as when I stand near them I can feel the wind blowing through my hair. Since the remaining cat enjoys sitting in front of these doors watching the outdoor activity, I anticipate slashes through the plastic there sometime within the next few hours. I will never, never, never again be swayed by tall ceilings, panoramic windows, or any other Siren song that seemingly benign rental units may sing sweetly into my hungry ears.
Posted by sean on December 5, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/12/05/entering-the-dark-cave/
No. 13 Baby
The last couple of minutes of this Pixies song describes so many moments of my life. Or maybe it actually starts ten seconds or so later, when the electric guitar kicks in, and that melody washes over and over again, crashing through saltwater thoughts, receding then after melting through all that hard-packed sand on the shore of my outer consciousness. There’s another song that is like this for me…Built to Spill’s “Kicked It In The Sun”….the last three minutes or so….swirling guitar and staccato drums at odds with each other, yet still working together to translate into feelings what words cannot ever seem to do. It’s always music that’s the savior…smoothing out the sharp edges…making sense of that which cannot be explained using the blunt tools of language. As Black Francis sings, “I’m in a state…I’m in a state…I’m in a state…”
Posted by sean on December 3, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/12/03/no-13-baby/
a morning
As the train approaches, a small flock of birds gathers overhead, then settles into two trees. On board, everyone is reading. I, however, am listening and looking. One woman reads Rumi. A man reads a book called Ontologies in Medicine. Two people read the Bible in languages other than English. The man in front of me works on a Sudoku puzzle. A woman toward the front begins a conversation on one of those annoying walkie-talkie phones. The man’s voice on the other end squawks abrasively into the train. The woman responds gleefully. “Hi, how are you? I am on the light rail and am broadcasting our conversation to everyone on the entire train! Isn’t that so exciting?” (Actually I can’t hear her because I am listening to Wilderness at high volume, but these are the words I enjoy putting into her mouth). The woman across from her doesn’t seem to think it’s that exciting. She begins with dirty looks each time a transmission comes through the phone. Then she rapidly advances to dirty looks and a shake of the head. After that, she looks around in frustration to see if anyone else is annoyed. Either no one else cares, or they are doing a damn good job of hiding it. The phone woman gets off at North Ave and a man and woman get on. The man is in a motorized wheelchair and is missing the lower half of his left leg. He holds a bottle of what looks like urine. Off the train at Lexington, crescendoes rushing in my ears, clouds obscuring the sun. Rain is coming. And I forgot my umbrella. I walk. Everyone is smoking. On the sidewalk a crushed tiny plastic cup erupted its contents in stages: ketchup smeared like blood, obscene on bone white concrete. Farther along are ankles so thin they could snap. A face turns with startling beauty. Inside, I am loath to pause this soundtrack, to disrupt this rhythm. But that was just the prelude.
Posted by sean on November 24, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/11/24/a-morning/
fundamental rules of bike commuting part one
A fundamental rule of bike commuting: on any two contiguous days on which an equal or similar chance of rain is predicted, if a cyclist suits up in full rain gear on one day then it will not rain no matter how dark and stormy the sky may appear and, in fact, the sun will likely break through the clouds causing profuse sweating underneath said rain gear; conversely, if on the other day the same cyclist does not suit up in rain gear, it will invariably rain a considerable amount, thus ensuring a fresh waterlogged professional appearance at work.
The phrase “slight chance of showers” is an empty meaningless phrase and should heretofore be banished from meteorological parlance.
Posted by sean on November 6, 2008
https://sd-stewart.com/2008/11/06/fundamental-rules-of-bike-commuting-part-one/
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