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A Day in the Brine

~ Unkempt Mind dribbling in the seethe

A Day in the Brine

Tag Archives: Night Photography

Disheveled Night- Through Peccable Eyes

12 Saturday Apr 2014

Posted by smilingtoad in Experimental, Introspection, Photography, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Abstract, Black and White, Experiemental, Night, Night Photography, Noir, Photography, Poetry, Rain, Urban

Globules of Light

Disheveled night

To peer through peccable eyes

SplatteredMigraine

The restive rebel

Curled up inside

This sweating mind

SequesteredThoughts

Warbling words

Driveling through a soggy grin

Tepid brow nestling into the grit

Of neon-washed, city-skin

thefabricofthought

Uvid and mucid

This life therein

Dank and dainty

Delicate, it drifts

NightsConfusion

Dastardly light

That sweeps and swims

just blink00

In coal-coloured eyes

That leer with a limp

And in smoky shame

Still long to live

This Sky Shan’t Inherit any Stars Tonight

03 Thursday Apr 2014

Posted by smilingtoad in Photography, Quotations

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Abstract, Black and White, Dark, Film, Ingmar Bergman, Lights, Neon, Night Photography, Noir, Photography, Quotes, Red, Thoughts

DSC_5542“You know, I’d almost forgotten what your eyes looked like. Still the same. Pissholes in the snow.”
– From the film “Get Carter”

Intrepid “See the smoke trembling under the roof as if with fright? Yet when it gets out in the air, it has the whole sky to swirl about in. But it doesn’t know that, so it huddles and trembles in the soot under the roof. It’s the same with people. They quiver like a leaf in the storm, afraid of what they know and what they don’t know.”
– From the film “The Virgin Spring” (“Jungfrukällan”)

Afraid of the Dark

09 Sunday Feb 2014

Posted by smilingtoad in Photography, Quotations

≈ 16 Comments

Tags

Asphalt Jungle, Black and White, Casablanca, Darkness, Film, Night Photography, Noir, Photography, Portrait, Rain

noir“Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one’s all right, he turns legit.”
-From the film “Asphalt Jungle”

Brandishing Light“We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light.”
-Plato

Greeen signed“Rick Blaine: I came to Casablanca for the waters.
Capt. Louis Renault: Waters?! We’re in a DESERT!
Rick Blaine: I was misinformed.”
-From “Casablanca”

Better Than Fireworks

22 Sunday Dec 2013

Posted by smilingtoad in Events, Humour, Photography, Stories

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Boat Light Parade, Christmas, Christmas Events, Commentary, Florida, Holidays, Humour, Light Parade, Lights, Night Photography, Photography, Satellite Beach, Silly

“Merry Drink-A-Lot” sang out some boisterous boaters this past weekend during the Holiday Boat Parade…

Merry Drink A LotIn the inky darkness, a man with a glow-in-the-dark silver mustache shivered beside me and muttered to his merry-christmasing wife, “Wish it were warmer…”

It was about 80 degrees Fahrenheit outside with a flimsy breeze.

“More flamingos and palm trees than Christmas trees and reindeer!” one man observed exuberantly, as a boat fluttered by, sporting an illuminated string of rather awesome LED flamingos pulling a sled, with great green and gold, swaying bloaty palm trees billowing up from the stern.

Classic Florida.

DSC_0099

“HALLLOOOO! MERRY CHRISTMAAAAAAAS!” came some soggy, sonorous voices, slopping up from the brackish darkness. What were these strange things?

“Oh my…those are paddle-boarders!!” a wee lass cried out.

Indeed they were. Paddle-boarders completely saturated with blinking, twinkly little battery-operated LED lights. One man waved his red illuminated paddle high in the air and the crowd squealed with delight. I felt a strong urge to burst into a husky-voiced and rather guttural Christmas carol, but resisted…

“This is better than fireworks!” someone suddenly exclaimed. With the air of a serene sage, I nodded to the black night in agreement, as more and more brilliant, light-adorned, sirening boats shimmered by.

DSC_9631A child squealed out many holiday cheers to the buoyant and rather briny light parade. A parent scolded, “GET OFF OF THERE! You’re gonna slip and fall!”

She was rapidly removed from the dangerous spot.

I strode up and swaggered about the slick, rigid pavement where the child had been, in order to scrutinize the sea of boats a little more closely, when suddenly I found myself slipping.

boatsAdorned in a fresh coat of decorative green slime, I grinned away as I filmed the rest of the parade crumpled up on the gooey boat slip that was now especially forbidden to all children.

Whale…I was planted there until, suddenly, a twinkly boat came careening up and I bolted into the air, only to find that my left leg was out of order. Apparently, it had gone to sleep. With an astoundingly obnoxious and rather obvious old sailor’s limp, I managed to hobble out of the way.

DSC_2325As the algae-coated denimed leg began to come back to life once more, some onlookers spilled onto the twinkly boat and roared off in a sea of bonhomie.

A hound barked behind me.

DSC_2260What a sight. Yes, it was grand. It was brilliant. It was blazing (and me flash was so violent it nearly sent a poor man tumbling into the rainbow-glinting drink below, blinded by the beam…I do not think he was all that comforted when I spat out, “Oh oopsie daisies! I had no idea it was that bright!”)

Yes, blazing indeed, and…far more exemplary than fireworks, I’d have to agree.

Cheers,

Autumn Jade

Pursued by the Moon

03 Wednesday Jul 2013

Posted by smilingtoad in Photography, Stories

≈ 21 Comments

Tags

Black and White, Experimental, Introspection, Nature, Night Photography, Noir, Owl, Prose, Story, Thoughts, Writing

07-02-13 Gleason Noir Night DSC_8975

Gritty steps reverberate the path, winding. Puttering along, the lone figure listens to the mosquito moon moaning behind skuzzy sky. Scraggly limbs cast sniveling shadow across his face, leather loafers glinting damp through lamp-light ripples. Rain hovers in misty summer air.

He stops, cognizant of Eyes upon him, lambent yellow beaming through the darkness. Then comes a muffled cry, a raspy whir wafting down from the arms of the great live oak- creature nestled somewhere in the down of rain-dappled Spanish moss.

03-25-13 DSC_6957

Muted-still, the man waits, gazing up into the dripping tree, listening to the sound of life writhing and stirring in the dank and brittle grass at his feet.

With a flash of pale wing, the creature spills into view, poised on a naked branch, talons curling into deep fissured bark, glinting with rain. Those gawping eyes of lemon fire slit the darkness.

07-02-13 Owlie DSC_8980

Then, a sudden gust of ludic wind flits through, brushing away the film from the moon. With a tossing steel mane, the man watches the little owl glide upwards and over the crests of trees, quickly dissipating into the darkness beyond, pursued by the lucid light of Sapphire Moon.

The man, too, hurries on, with bowed head, starlight stirring in ruffled puddles that swirl in his wake.

Hamburger Knees

16 Thursday May 2013

Posted by smilingtoad in Art, Experimental, Photography, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

Addiction, Black and White, Dark, Experimental, Experimental Photography, Facial Expression, Grainy, Night Photography, Noir, Poetry, Rain, Shadow

Hitchcock might just like this one...

Smoky rain snivels through hacking breeze

Neat tidy mind savagely tangled

Wrangled, scraping-bleak, sliding off Speed

Man crumpled on two hamburger knees

Dusty eyes the green of dying leaves

05-12-13 DSC_2420 (3)

A December Walk with My Delitescent Self

05 Wednesday Dec 2012

Posted by smilingtoad in Experimental, Introspection, Sea, Stories

≈ 36 Comments

Tags

Abstract, Abuse, Black and White, Introspection, Loss, Melancholy, Nature, Night Photography, Personal, Photography, Sea, Thoughts, Writing

Self-Portrait

December. The Sea has cooled, a bit. The sand feels like chilled velvet ‘neath my stumbling toes. Rubigenous seawrack trickles in. The seethe crackles and I suddenly catch a wee glisk of my delitescent Self abiding there in the reflection on the glass sand. It is the meek, quiet one within, the one that harbours all the pain and grief I have ever known.

Tossed and Overturned

An intangible being created long ago, and like a gentle chum, has ever-remained. It is there when I go sprawling, overturned, writhing in the spitting sand, rabid wind flinging shards of broken sea glass and shattered scallop shells into my eyes. It flits in and swallows every splinter of chaos, calmly, silently, so I may clamber back to my feet and stagger on. And then, I am reminded, Chaos is a Choice.

This Haggard Life- Dormant, but not Dead

This service performed without complaint, little shamrock-infused Soul. Nothing spoken, lurking reticent and Daphnean- alone, without yearning. But I can feel it, ever-present, and am zapped with its vital energy- how can something dormant feel so ardently alive? Is this where Passion is derived? Attitude and Perception? Is this what converts Grief into Peace? Agony into Understanding? Despair into Art?

When the Wind Aches

I amble on, in Memory, gazing through the Abstract: the hum of the fluorescent lights hovering over an infinite hallway; the sharp light polished on the gossamer surface of a muddy puddle; the buzz of a drill in the background, staring up at the pocks in the grey ceiling, tracing constellations of galloping stallions and peculiar faces; and the keening sound of the groaning flowers as they die on the frozen prairie, brushed by the aching wind-

These Doleful, December WalksAbstract memory has a way about it, washing things in a thrilling,
pensive kind of melancholy. Even the hideous and the terrifying can become
beautiful. The fracid and sulfuric scent of Death, black-red, sticky on the
sheets, is an oil-painting-flashback, a sad observation. Her vitative laugh, unique and impossible to replicate, is no cultellated recollection, but evokes joy recalling having known such a gorgeous Soul.

To Blear the Windowpane- the stains and the grime, the scrapes and the blights of Time

There is damage, but no distortion, feeling pain, but no torment; stumbling crippled, but not suffering. The wounded and mangled inner being that smiles coyly through the detritus of childhood abuse, of loss, and pain- I see it in the flicker of a blue shadow, the crunch of a dead leaf, and I know, I can feel it all, euphorically.

Piercing Christmas Lights

It provides Peace. It reveals fragile humanity, even in those others have named Monsters. Understanding comes, fear being vanquished. Is it the breath of Forgiveness?  How could it be, if I first do not feel wronged? Compassion and Love, the Beast with Gentle Eyes?

The Illumination of DecemberI wander on into the now dark, December night, Sea a distant hum behind me. Christmas lights and stars illuminate the way. I think about my brother, his addiction, our differences. I wonder if he has a hidden Self within to absorb the blows. I have seen him staggering in obscurity- searching for Beauty and relief in drugs, self-esteem in crime, atonement in masochism. I see him for what he is- a beautiful human being, worthy of forgiving himself. Aye, I think of him, as I ooze along, deeper and deeper into the lovely December night.

Porcine Wings and Flower Skulls

03 Monday Dec 2012

Posted by smilingtoad in Experimental, Photography, Poetry

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

Abstract Photography, Drear, Night, Night Photography, Photography, Poetry, Rain, Thoughts

Thoughts Splashed with Rain

Door swinging in wind

Waiting for the midnight train-

Possum waddles by

In street-puddles swims the moon

Water oily black

Wandering in rain-sloshed thought

Roads brushed in silence

In the grimy windowpane-

Fog and memory

Porcine Wings and Cranium Gardens

Leering Darkness

30 Thursday Aug 2012

Posted by smilingtoad in Experimental, Introspection, Photography, Stories

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

Black & White, Florida, Musing, Night, Night Photography, Photography, Solitude, Story, Thoughts, Urban, Walking, Writing

After days and years of solitary walks, meandering along the sea, or through the quiet forest glade, delving into the chasms and crevices of my belladonna-mind, the leering darkness provoked a change, and I found myself upon a nocturnal stroll of the urban kind.

I ambled along amidst the jubilant bar life, the incandescent window displays and charming, but dolefully indifferent, advertisements whoring for a sale.

I trotted along the night-washed sidewalk, myriad globs of smashed gum wads catching the glow of a nearby streetlamp. They glinted in perfect circles punching through the dark like stars to light my way.

Framed by the passing headlights, the silhouettes of Panhandlers stalked along like jackals looming near a bleeding kill they could never quite reach.

Moody Indie-music lumbered out from the dreary maw of the newest haunt. The sound mingled with the hum of fans, the buzz of neon signs, and the silent boisterous banter of the chaos within-

Words joggling and spurting, desperate to touch (with lucidity, with meaning), but always guarded- and so naively off-key, like hesitant eyes that rise out of cadence and fail to meet (and so sabotage what might have been). I walked on.

Solitude followed me as I shuffled through smiling countenances (grinning teeth obscuring the self-doubt and brittle sadness within) glaring through the darkness. I walked effortlessly, gliding along in my pinstripe hat and my animated thoughts. In the cover of the leafy weald, or in a circus theatre, yes, Solitude always became me.

And I was content. Aloneness was never barren or hollow, but resolute and kind. It fostered reason and curiosity, the creative mind like perennial autumn flare ruffled by the rejuvenating wind, fresh and crisp and ludic. Aye, I was alone, but never dreary. I had determined to avoid the infection of loneliness.

But I did come to know Madness, before the wall of mud and sticks finally gave way and the onslaught of my own wild thoughts were released to flow free. Before I knew the bliss it was to embrace my Self.

My gritty step faded. The crowds, the bars, the panhandlers, all dissolved behind me. The charming signs, the decorative lights and floating music, all wafted away. I was free, and I was lively, and I was going somewhere, gliding along rivulets of thought- and always by my side along the way, my coy and reticent friend, Solitude.

Goodnight,

Autumn Jade

Air Like Still Water

29 Sunday Jul 2012

Posted by smilingtoad in Photography, Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Abstract, Black and White, Cocoa Village, Experimental Photography, Florida, Night Photography, Poetry

Image

Stops to light a fag,

Shift ended, eyes merged with night-

Air like still water.

Bars groan with guitar.

Listening, her fingers flick.

Sizzles on her sole.

Stirred, she turns and clomps away.

Streets echo the sound.

From a fissure in the brick,

Gecko emerges,

Finally alone.

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