super star-

disclamer from the auther: Im sorry, to all blog readers. Im sorry for being a terrible researcher. Anyways, i search and searched and searched for the article that was published the the southampton press 3 years ago about the legend of weesuck creek and how our land got the title "the fourth neck"
so- to the best of my ability- this is what i remember-

when the settlers came in to take this land from the indians it was of upmost value and worth fighting for. so a great battle took place right here in our land of east quoge at weesuck creek. Obviously, the settlers having more advanced weapons took control of the battle and land from the indians. At the very end , four indian cheifs were beheaded in weesuck creek. On the fourth beheading of the highest and most important indian cheif, a grave and mysterious fog rolled in from the salts filling the land and infesting the settlers with a deadly diesease. they all died

in refference to this story is my new age protector of the legend. The great Blood Heron, getting his title from the small blood trail from the ancient battle which he protects. I look for him every day of my life, and have told my friends about him and even wrote a powerfull peice for the readers of gayspace. he truly haunts my existance, beautiful, yet....a superstar.


im always asking myself waht i believe in- a mysterious difference within all of our minds. some will believe this, and some that. Im always a wondering soul, staring up at the stars.
Whenever im driving and a black cat crosses my pathways far ahead, scattering across the road for whatever reason- this chills my spine- however- no matthew benham, you do not believe in this. This is no bad luck for you at all, and there's no possible reason why this stupid cat should have any effect on your day.
Now, theres another being that has the power to effect my mind and therefore my life. The Great Blood Heron of Weesuck Creek. To my dearest friend the GBH. I built you up to fame and fortune, and wrote about you, and looked for you every day always and forever. On the days that i saw you there in your spot, a smile built its way uppon my face and i felt loved and cherished. On the days that your not there, i simply accept this. It wont ruin my existance. Now that all my friends look for you, your truely a superstar. we might as well call you lupe fiasco. Its a fact that my Great Blood Heron sits perched on his bog 60% of the time. Not bad odds. Things have been weird though. I have not seen you in some time now, and it gets me thinking, about my life and if im really content, and how a bird has grown uppon my superstitions. I dont believe in bad luck from breaking a mirror, or walking under a ladder, but i do however believe- that you the great blood heron have the power to bring about the good in my life. Simply by being there- in your spot. Do it for me my friend. Come Back Please. Ive been blind from your beauty for two weeks, and even some of my friends are starting to worry. you superstar you. oh the fame and fortune has brought you away from your home-just east of quogue, north of montauk hw in Weesuck creek. Your the bearrer to the awesome myth and legend of the fourth neck and the indians. You are the protector and have the power, to grant me my love. You are my one superstision- the only one i have ever believed in, which was was built up by myself.

until just a half hr ago, as i was driving home from 7-11 it was too dark to see you, or the possibility of your presence-so just then, ive been attempting to get over you, as if your an ex lover or some tall tale, or some fable that never happened. I just want everyone to know that you are real, and brought my luck and good fortune.

farther up the road.
i was blinded by a shooting star that shined for so long and even put a powerfull glare going down my front window. so strong that i almost crashed my car as my eyes were glued to the sky. I didnt make a wish uppon this shooting star, because right than, at that instance, i realized that i dont need a tall bird tale, or smaller lucky charms in life. at that moment i realized one thing that believe in. I believe in you matt benham. more than the legend of lupe fiasco in bird form. my Great Blood Heron , you are a superstar indeed. I know you will return. As of now, maybe just for a bit, until my bird legen returns, matt benham, that shooting star made you a
super
star.

Dear Pete

this peice is dedicated to my friend pete, I know he's responsible for the majority of my blogger viewings, i figured i'd write one with the possibility of inspiring him.- there are good, powerfull and amazings things out there in the world. if you never knew that than now you do. because-
I
just
informed
you

We can write about anything, you and I both Peter. Recreate any experience at all. Maybe- more importantly than being here, at our computer with an open mind, is the process of chosing our subjects properly. I believe in freedom. Like its some secret unspoken rule hidden away in our rights as americans. Our rights as humans. The thought that even the foulest of experiences may make for some of the most interesting and promosing peices. There are , in fact, some areas of my life that maybe I just dont want to share with the common folk. Even though, these situations, thoughts and instances are among the most powerfull- maybe we shall embrace the idea of chooseing our subjects wisely. It haunts me a little bit though my friend- just yesterday, do you remember when you were filling up my mp3 player with tunes and you read me the peice anout your kjsdfn;dk;jvndkn? I thought that was a ever so powerfull collaboration of words. It did youch me , being able to listen to the story. Maybe i'm the only one that will ever be graced with a peice such as the one that you read to me. We even conversated for a moment about the subject, and from some of the words chosen to describe what happened-I was able to remember the date. Except it was different. I had no idea at all that situations like this maybe for some folk could happen say, twice a week was it that you said? well at that point in time. Anyways my friend, its just an odd thought that maybe some people dont write for money or to inform. There's also some mystery hidden away. Just like you said you wouldnt want anyone reading that ever , unless they do after you die. Shit like that just keeps crunching away at my brain, its like, some people just do it, to it my friend. I have to think deeply about touching uppon some subjects such as yours. I mean- we are different people, yet in some strange areas of our life I think we're mysteriously connected. Even if it starts from the music in my mp3 player. Theres a little bit of influence in everyone, being fed from all different directions. Your peice did influence me to touch uppon subjects of a different matter. I enjoy outdoor adventure themed writing, but on a different aspect- I think we both know that theres more to be said than what one can learn from the birds and the bees and obviously the fish. I'd like to make people happy one day- through writing. I dont think its an easy task, and I wouldnt know how to go about doing it. Every now and again when im reading over a peice that i have jotted down in the past im left with a goodhearted unexplainable feeling- obviously caused by myself. weird right? Maybe its just so damn powerfull that you can even use it as a tool to better yourself.
ok
what
im
tryin
to say
peter
is

Maybe the most powerfull peices of writring arent supposed to be read. Mysterious subjects, even foul themed. Maybe at the time you could have be going through hell, but dosent it warm your soul just hearing me tell you that ive felt inspired by writing such as yours. Remember when I told you about my book and how it will only be started/published when its found- away at the time capsule at the bottom of the pond? (aka the guidebook for the journey) You and I are similiar man. You reading me the peice that you read aloud just yesterday goes hand in hand, and maybe a peice such as that one- should currently reside in "the waiting room" underwater, in the time capsule.

on
a
different
note
peter

just this morning after vommiting over the toilet as my stomach muscles were still cramping from the devils breath- I turned around a grabbed the sink, slowly looking up at my shirtless, sweating body.
My bloodshot watery eyes gazed back at themselves through the mirror and I felt the strongest deja vu, except I remember the person that i was staring back at. I havent seem him in quite some time- its been years in fact. Im discusted by the feeling and by the experience, yet in some unexplainable way a small smirk showed its way from the corner of my lips. "I know you" I said aloud- being the weirdo that i am.

Maybe our "guidebook for the journey" will never really end until the day that we die. And our anventures may never be read for hundreds of years. All I know now is that, in this life- the process of learning about one self, and the freedom to write aout it is a ever so powerfull one.

just
maybe

Its time for a swim, to go adding to the book of our lives- only to be found in our next life. Except this time, peter, it would be an honor to add some peices such as yours. a collaboration of the original starnger and the outdoorsman. it has a nice ring to it dosent it?

follow
me
down
the
rabbit
hole

Into the Lions Den

Even though I view life as a simple easy, breezy, smiling towards the sun process- deep down in my heart I’m always longing for my “nitche in society”. Yes, sometimes it gets to me being that im 24 and do not have a wad of cold cash in my pocket. I like to think that my constant glow of life and the feeling of freedom is always a part of my heritage, and now even embedded into my fingerprints. I am happy, and always will be simply ecstatic being Matthew Benham. For some of us, maybe that big wad of cash isn’t as important as the smell of freshly cut grass in the summertime, or being at the bowling ally with your friends every Thursday night as of late. Or even left alone with my thoughts at any of my secret spots, where I can be my absolute self and enjoy the process of learning about the world through my everyday existence.
As life goes on all that im ever doing is progressing and learning. Bettering myself everyday, in health and in happiness. The truth is that I feel absolutely great about everything, all day and everyday. Im not quite sure if any one person or even team could put the smallest of dents into my pride or well being. In fact, I tend to look forward to the obstacles and when it really comes down to it, maybe one day I will have the opportunity to achieve absolute and unfiltered greatness.
I realized that there’s no easy and simple way to approach doing this. Living a lazy life leaves you with no options and you may never even have the opportunity to experiment and even take aim at any “nitche” at all. Theres a strong feeling of standing tall and throwing yourself into the lions den so to speak. Go out there and open up your options, with a conclusion of the experience in the realest of forms.
Taking the plunge “into the lions den” will only benefit you. Go and try out for the best, most qualified job, career or even military branch. Picture it as so- working out at the gym with someone using steroids. They exit the bathroom slapping their joint-opposite their elbow- and their eyes look up into yours and after a long pause, and their pupils dilate just a bit and they ask “are you ready?”
The question of “are you ready?” isn’t the important factor taking place here, it’s the experience of being among the best and strongest and training yourself with the same mind frame with the only exception of a healthy approach. Strong , powerful experience can mold the person you are and to be honest, if your plunging directly into the lions den so to speak, maybe right off the bat you have no chance of wining the fight so to speak. What you can learn from this is everything. Maybe after the fight you realized your not the person you thought you once were, you’re a bit more level minded and keep your head up and ready for anything at any given time.
We as humans, must take the “lions den” approach to improving our existence. We must go out, and keep the thought constant to higher our own standards for the better of ourselves. Maybe it will better everyone, not just yourself. You start attending the gym, than maybe out of kindness your friends may understand that your attempting the path to grown stronger and they just may, offer you their company.
More importantly than me sitting here at my computer writing this, is how it relates into my life. Its no secret that I took the Suffolk County Police Department Test and did well. Now, am I going to become a police office officer as a cause from this? - most likely not. Would I like to and enjoy being one? Yes. This is so because it’s the absolute best god thing out there for someone in my place and frankly anyone local of my age. Now, when I took the test I had no idea what to expect at all, and maybe in retrospect I was “throwing myself into the lions den”. Now that I’m down the road and passed the agility portion I have decided that- whatever happens, I’m absolutely glad to have benefited from the experience. Running at the Quogue Wildlife Refuge everyday was/has been the most enjoyable of all blessings for an outdoorsman feeling the coming spring. Maybe , for someone in my shoes, I have stumbled into enlightenment. Brought fourth the idea that I am in absolute control, and can throw my body, mind into any career or any situation necessary for my existence as a whole to learn and progress from the experience. Assuming that I cannot beat any lion in a fight- is a deeper frame of mind that I have even made it in all of my 24 years of existence. Why run for president when you know you have no chance, and the numbers prove that its just about impossible. Maybe you’ll learn something along the way, about the world, about the wars, about how our country is run and governed and most of all, I hope that you just may have learned something about yourself and maybe your views on the world and the ideas in which you reside.
I highly believe in this approach and as my body and mind grow stronger/healthier with time, I just may throw myself out there in the world in hopes of one day holding the power to do something bigger in society. Help those in need of help, for maybe one day when I was younger it was me and my mind which was stuck in the dark room of existence. I’m just glad that through the slimest of numbers I have a mind so fresh and growing the intelligence to take note and say aloud to myself “hey Matt wait, This experience will make you a better person” .So yes, my “nitche in society” will ultimately clash and go hand and hand with the pathways deemed “caution- absolute greatness, only progress knowing that at the end the lion awaits you”

Be Weary of King Lhama, He's a Fraud and Plagiarist

in response to seagull we hit because we thought it was a plastice bag in the street and feathers came in through the sunroof  the thing about the things we work hard and put so much effort into(live seagull), yet for often some odd reason unwittingly leave behind(feathers) is that once they're left behind, some often get placed into the never to be finished pile(carcass in the street). A perpetually growing pile. A pile full of bright ideas that were never finished being thunk, epiphanies that were never quite piffed. A sad and lonely pile that should never be totally abandoned, because the potential is still there. That's when the scavengers(crows, even other seagulls) arrive to eat the carcass (reap the benefits of the pile) The the first scavenger on the scene examines the carcass, eats all the good parts; the liver, kidneys brains. He gains all the nutrients and and reaps every benefit of the good parts(takes somebodys unfinished pile) . And then, after sucking every delectable bit of the carcass he calls the others. He plays dumb. Yo, dude bird check out what i found man. And gains fame, noteriety and grandiose praise for his willingness to share the bounty with the others, the oblivious and autonomous scavengers. The first one on the scene emerges supreme. Getting to deep and weird for me and i'm getting lost in my metaphors. The moral of the story is that if you hit a very smart seagull with your car, make sure you turn back and hit hit the first one that comes to eat him because if he's one of the smart ones too, he can be very very dangerous, like King Lhama, but a fraud that stole every good idea he ever had.

timeless conflict

Salutations,...



...My name???...

....Not important....

.....It would do you no good to fall prive to that information. Nor would it be truly relevant for you to think of me as an individual....

...Instead consider me more of a narrative voice. A constant through which other constants can exist. Hardly the voice of reason I am simply a voice. Since I have yet to find merit in anything I do I will not pretend that I serve any immediate function. I do however, much like you, possess the wavering ability to alter occurrences on an infinite scale. I say wavering due to the fact that there are a multitude of inhibitors that can and most certainly will effect this processes....

....Because I am as lost and convoluted (If not more) as you I will offer no advice....

...Instead I'll act as a beacon. A guiding light that does just that. Not in any specific direction of course! Rather. In a way that is vaguely familiar and compelling,... reminiscent of the feeling you get from deja vu....

....Which brings us to now, the current point in time in which we (You & I) previously existed....

....Karma is said to be the sum of our actions measured on a whole. So,... what my friend??? If we, the human race, collectively rather then individually effected the balance between light and dark. Is Karma as blind as the tipping scales of justice? Does the good out way the bad???.....

the dark room of existance

Sometimes when im out there all alone, on the water, im left with nothing other than absloute simplicity. I stop my casting and thoughts, and let my eyes wander till they're glued to the moon. I think of the world, and the "big picture" of existance. I'm nothing in this world other than a grain of sand on the beach of a thousand jetties. We go through our lives thinking that maybe one day we'll live out our dreams, get off long island, run for president, find the cure for crohns disease or breast cancer and make something great and powerfull out of our grain of sand. My "nitche in society" is not quite yet discovered, yet I enjoy thinking that my mind is in the process of enlightenment and i'm still discovering my true and simple self. The truth is, as of late the best way of describing my state of mind, is in the dark room. Just comming clear to the light, my picture developing is metaphorical to my life as a whole and the directions that are now setting clear to my brain. Yes, theres hope and multiple options to choose from. I for one, held love on a petistol, higher than health, a career , family and money. Higher than me. Now that im "on the waters of life" alone...i find myself gazing into that ever so powerfull moon alot more often. And i dont think of the girl as much as i once did- I think of myself, and where i want to be at that particullar moment. I am my first priority, and what i want more than love (ex #1 priority) is the ever and so powerfull idea, that with my grain of sand, maybe, just maybe- I will communicate to the world- that I, for one, believe that this moon(our moon)has the ability to bring us back. To make something of our lives, realize our full potential. In my case as an explorer, adventurer- and as a writer. Today more than ever, when you look at that moon, full or not. I dont want you to think of me, I want you to think of yourself , your own #1 priority- and with this idea, you are a powerfull person. The beaches of existance go a long, long way. Even more than a cop, or a bus driver, I feel that if nobody else has the ability to promote beauty, greatness, and the pure soul of a clean life- at least i have the ability to live one.- and with this ability comes the freedom to write. -Promote my full moon magic- and with this idea, comes the thought that soon enough my mind will develop into greatness, and leave behind the dark room of existance- a necessary step in life- if eventualy one day- we want our staircase lit up by the heavens. Maybe this moon isnt just for me- this moon is for us to realize our destiny/directions/prioritys to live out our life with a smile. This moon is for all of us.

the native

The Native
The date was December 30th 2007. I was wading down the Carman’s river with a fly fishing rod in my hands. I hadn’t been seriously casting, something more along the lines of slapping about , here and there, behind every fallen brush or side pool.
It wasn’t the sense of adventure, or even the feeling of wanderlust. I knew exactly why I was there. I was searching for the native brook trout. I had learned of them from the writings of fishing literature which protects these threatened species and emphasizes their unparalleled beauty.
Wading down the river gives me a feeling most Long Islanders will never feel. There are no houses in sight, not even the sounds of any cars nor the grotesque sight of garbage litter. I was exactly where I wanted to be in the universe, left with the solitude and simplicity of my thoughts and every step in my waders down the river.
The river got thinner in a small area and it took my full attention to place my steps properly. The bottom of the river was rocky and the flow of the ten foot wide portion of the Carman’s river grew stronger.
I noticed a pair of belted kingfishers (Ceryle alcyon) fluttering in the brush nearby. I didn’t pay much attention to them, since all my efforts were directed towards proper foot placement. They didn’t seem to mind me much either. Perhaps they were fishing as well.
As the steps of my wading grew safer and the river widened a few feet, I continued slapping my artificial Bitch Creek fly at every nook and cranny that could possibly hold a fish. I had my eye set on some fallen pine, so I proceeded in the direction with special ease in efforts to not spook whatever fish may be lurking beneath.
It only took a split second for the tiny fish to dart from under the pine and attack my fly with deathly intentions. With reflex speed equal to the fish‘s, I struck and gave pressure, lifting my fly fishing outfit in attempt of hooking the jaw of the fish. “Hooked up,” I said aloud as excitement ran up and down my spine. My thoughts were nonexistent at that particular moment. My actions and every raised hair on my body were glued to the task at hand, and I was involved in a moment of flow. I bent my knees just a touch and raised my arms as the tip of my rod twitched. The fish dancing beneath gave a powerful struggle for its size, and after nearly a few seconds I caught the glance of the most dominant characteristic trait of the brook trout: the tips of its fins are whiter than snow.
I guided the small fish into my hands as my excitement reached its peak. I held it snuggly in my hands as it attempted its last escape by thrashing and bouncing and almost jumped out of the small space my thumbs had to offer. I moved my hand away ever so cautiously, as I viewed the most beautiful fish I had ever seen. The native brook trout (Salvelinus fontainalis) of the Carman’s River are tiny creatures. Known for their beauty, my fish of eleven inches made my eyes sparkle with amazement. I had noticed a small bump on its underbelly, giving off the sense that it had been gorging itself on tiny and minute mid-winter insects. Also on the sides of this native brookie were about fifteen small circles know as its vermillion markings. These red, purple and pinkish dots on the fish’s body are bright in color and have the capability of teaching the angler something about the fish’s diet.
A big grin widened on my face as I gave one more glance of the legendary brook trout before setting my hands into the river to release the fish. I was finished. I broke apart my rod into it’s pieces and started my way downriver. This time, a touch of contentment was added into my breathing sequence.

later that night....as doctor benham

later that night...as jacko was driving us home (from villa lombardi in holbrook) the rain was comming down the hardest it had all winter. I rceived a phone call from the love of my life at the time. She was crying- apparently she was having car problems that were out of her realm of fixings (accidental-it happens right)and her mother/father was giving her the business. After yelling and screeming and tears all directed at my lover, apparently she decided to set out into the rain on foot. She called me and explained the situation and said that she was going to the gas station for shelter.

Picture that- the love of my life, walking and crying over the long island expressway, on her way to the gas station. I wasnt really happy with the situation, so like any superhero lover, when i reached my car in east moriches- the doctor drove right back out to holbrook. Speeding in the rain, i decided to call her up throw out the idea- "maybe you should call your brother and see if he he can pick you up so you dont have to wait all wet in te gas station. your too pretty for that shit booba" . When i was in the area, i called her up again to make shure i was goin to the correct gas station "ummmm..dont see you guys yet"-"here look were flashing out brake lights"-"oh yeah see you now"- as i hung up and sped into the gas station, puling up beside the black car. I hopped out real fast to see if my lover was still tearing. She wasnt. Her brother picked her up and there they were, listening to wu-tang. Smiling-chatting. Thank god my lover is ok, i thought to myself. Within a slit seccond some peice-of-shit mexican hooptie car speeds up beside us. Two big guys get out, one approaching me and the other approaching seans window of the car. It happened so fast, out of the corner of my eye i had two original thoughts- 1)these guys are her bro's buds and saw his car, coming to say hi and chill 2)this guys approaching me fast, and if so (even though he's hugh) im about to throw down for dear life, to protect my lover and her brother. Now, it all happened so fast, and in that split seccond i noticed that the big fellow that was fastly aproaching me had something sparking on his jacket. A big silver badge. I was dealing with a detective, and was being busted (as a doctor) selling precripton medication in bulk. What actualy happened was my appearance sent them over the edge, they for shure, thought they had a big big crackdown. They looked at my face and doctors outfit (yes i still had on the stethascope) and questioned me. I explained that i attened a work haloween party and drove directly back out here because my gf was having a problem at home and wanted me to bick her home. "where was the party" big fellow asked me" -"villa a lombardi" i replied. "how much money was it?" -"sixteen dollars" "was the food any good?" he asked me. "yeah not too bad, chicken entre, salad. Not too bad" He glanced over to his buddy, who practically had his head in shawns window. His partner collaborated stories and shure enough, as opposed to a doctor selling illegal precription meds....i was just your average halloween dress up boy- dressing up as a doctor- the smoothest, coolest outfit that could be pulled off on hallowen. On his way back to the mexican-shit car, he glanced his flashlight into my ford taurous and the beam shined directly on to my collection of fishing poles. "those your rods?" he questioned me. -"of coarse" i replied. And they were on their way. Myself, my lover at the time and my gf's brother all had a big long laugh for a few minutes as we contemplated the situation a if it were a dream of some sort. My night as a doctor was truely a trip. Sometimes when im at home, i wear the outfit as pajamas before i go to bed. And as my mind drifts off into obblivion, i dream of what it really would be like to be Doctor Benham.

Doctor Benham

I was the doctor for one night in particullar. sat next to my old buddy war vereran jack walker (walker texas ranger)- he was dressed as a cowboy. His two guns in the holsters were real. Nobody knew that though. I came equiped with my cannon rebel and for the first time i ended up with pictures of a whole different flavor. The flavor and taste of the imperfect mind. The mind of adults with disabilities. To be honest though, it was a great feeling to be around my friends, outside of the work environment. On the dance floor that night I viewed some dance moves that i have ever seen performed by anyone ever. It was truely an amazing experience and the food was great too. At my table sat the big fellow with glasses that I occasonally saw at the coffe machine. Sometimes he would look at me funny, than give me a big old hug for no apparent reason at all. It touched my heart and soul alike. Anyways, he sat across from me and jacko and he was dressed as a vampire. The place was gigantic and i was glad to know that at this point in the work cycle, i knew almost everyone there. Most of all and more important were "my guys". The guys/gals that i transport. They fall under a category of my friends as well as my passengers. Jacko made rudy a really cool pirate sword with even some fake blood on the end. I thought he was gonna have it taken away for safety pourposes, but than this whole organization was built on love alone. The happy faces, love and fortune at this party alone was enough to light up the rockeffeler christmas tree. I must say that the best part of being Doctor Benham for a night was it increased my interactions with all the female staff. -those pretty eye ball's saw me-in my true and natural form with a healthy and happy heart- i love "my guys"

peace love and pineapples

so here i am. night cap sitting beside me. Me myself and matt benham. Thought id enter into the team effort to save the world through peave love and pineapples. Entering my thoughts into any new computer program takes a minute for it to fall into place correctly as it should: but to be honest i dont plan on falling. I came here tonite to climb. I dont plan on climbing alone. I was introduced to the blogger site from friends, ex fiends of whom all are general practitioners of the lurkology. Staying up late, in a collaborative effort to change the world. One. Word. At. A. Time. The changing of the world for goodness dosent happen overnite. The team force of the original stranger and myself is certantly nothing new. To be honest, we were formally a team under the title of Excalibur. Two of the original three members may colaborate ideas, words, photos and thoughts on life. I tend to lean towards an outdoors theme, but if i could id rather be a superhero. We arent alone though. Working with mystery names such as dask-one and crushed linnen we have realized that just maybe if people go through life with a good attitude and clear mind that good things will come. with positive energy comes constant elevation With that being said, why dont you hop aboard the elevator? Theres only one way to go right? Uppers