plume

you can learn alot in this world by simply listening. You can probally learn even more by opening your mouth and asking questions. To make a difference, or to sway the oponions of others you may have to apply some pressure. Just like you tell/will tell your kids "you can do anything if you set your mind to it. Now, im nobody to talk about motivational this or that mumbo jumbo...i myself do live a simple and undisturbed life.

Years ago I experienced something while fishing that had recently come back into my life. Now, ive been through some surreal and trippy things while adventuring the outdoors and some are unexplainable and others are mysteries which require the pathways of a long road ahead to even begin to solve.
Putting aside my jar of honey (same pond as the following experience)
also putting aside the naked woman in the woods by penny's pond
and also putting aside my bobcat encounter in hampton bays

i now bring into play my 4th oddest experience in nature which at the time being i could only explain as "mercury rising"

Standing in beaver lake (whb) in my waders fishing. Now what else would i be doing right? I started to notice something very strange happening in the waters. Excuse me Under the waters. All around me these newfangles bubbles started making their way up from the ground. They were very bright and high in collor and obviously uncomparable to anything ive ever seen before...ever! They were tiny and had the pinkish/purple glaze as do the bubbles that kids blow. When they were about 1 foot from the surface of the water they popped and a magiacal firework-like explosion would take place just beside me. All over my surrounding areas i had thought i was hallucinating. I called my cuzin on the phone. "dude you gotta come down here and check this out" when he finally came, he had forgotten his waders or hadnet expected my encounter to be hard to reach. now, my conclusion was that i had been wading through some mercury rising. (it's a fact that there are high traces of mercury in fish and you shouldnt eat over a certain number of fish every month) my cousin told me i was full of shit and his only guess was that i had steped in turtle eggs. He had a strange smile as if it were a joke. Turtle eggs? dude you have to be kidding me.

about a month ago on the short bus, directly after picking up my aide (brandy) and my speonk guys and girls I would turn onto speonk-riverhead road. At that particullar corner for about a week was a large truck with a hugh vertical drill. they had been drilling for who knows what. This took place for a few days and there were about 8 or 9 yellow barrels filled with mystery that had either been put into the ground or taken from underneath a small layer of our earth.

I looked up into the mirror "hey brandy what do you think theyre drilling for there?"
"I have no idea, but it is really weird cuz theyve been there for a few days now right?"
"oh yea, it truely is a mystery. theres no oil or any natural good things that would be going on?

the men surrounding the big drill had those bright collored coats as if they were hadardous material workers.
mine and brandys converstaion was inturrupted by willie how was dancing and singing. I looked back in the mirror "go willy go willy"
"he has am amazing sense of rythim, like he could be some weird b-boy rapper hype man guy or something" and we both laughed as willy proceeded to dance.
the drilling truck dissapeared and the mystery was left in my head until yesterday.
Yesterday on the way to mary's (family friend) birthday diner at jr's steakhouse we took speonk-riverhead road. Along the way we talked of gabreski airport and how 70 years ago they used to do airplane bomb drops for testing in that area. In the car was three teachers two of which were in the biology and science departments now all are retired. Mary explained that her friend who lived on peters lane whb had a big issue with the government because of some underground contamanitation that had been making her kids sick fro years. This issue was resolved out of court which means that anything resolution out of court is a private aggrement usually money induced. The amount of money givena and received in out of court aggrements is forever not to be talked and the situation is over forever. Theres no returning to court due to the ongoing problem. The government has things to hide and most likeley paid her a very high amount of money to keep whatever it was that she knew to herself.

now let me take a quick walk into the living room and grab the southampton press off of the table- because when i sat down to eat my egg sandwich the cover article made my hair stand on its end.
Richard was on the computer
"hey rich what does plume mean"
"its like an underground spreading contamination"
"well did you read this article in the southampton press about speonk-riverhead road. Does this have something to do with the bombs thaty we were talking about yesterday on the dinner"
"yeash it does but they dont say that. Those toxic chemicals that old army used is liek de-greaser. strong and horrible stuff"

Now i cannot guarantee that my experience with the bubbling firework chemicals whilst in my waders is directle related to the old bomb testing. Just maybe , if this shit stays in the ground long enough maybe it did make its way into the ponds, pools, underwater tap water and springs.

"a colloe code map supplied by the d.e.c. vis freedom of information law request shows the concentration levels of three contaminates- tetracholroethylene (pce), trichloroetthylene (tce) and chlorororm found in the speonk plumes.

maybe my experience with the firecrackerbubbles could have been any of the three toxic chemicals seeping its way under waders and into our drinking glasses.

im not shure how me sitting here addressing mystery issues may benefit others. Maybe just to inform. personally id rather be stepping on turtle eggs than drinking the local tap water. But i like turtles and wouldnt dare want to harm their existance. Who knows ....maybe they have a hard enough time as it is living in an underwater habitat filled with chemicals and toxins.

Rainbow

So lateley ive been fueled by wonderfull easy listening music, and ive been seeking collor in the world as well. Making note's in into my fishing journal that read of alsoluteley amazing places and people. Experiences based on collor and adventure with an outcome of realization. Maybe every individual could take the feeling of inspitration in different ways. It could come from seeing something amazing, or a feeling, or a journey or maybe just a person. Its always a difficult subject to write about and in no way shall i preach my ways into circles.

I sit here eating my rainbow cookies, and think what i would want to share with anyone. More importantly is how i co about telling folk of greatness, adventure and collor.

Just yesterday i had my hip boots and was jumping from rock to rock alongside 20 mile creek in vermont. My buddy was somewhere behind me and on the opposing side of the river. We hadnt seen any fish nor any pools that may be capable of holding fish. The creek was thin and shalow with rocks everywhere and everywhich way. The tiny river opened up a touch and and interesting breese found its way across my face. As i rounded the corner my eyes were glued to big boulders and a waterfall. The tiny creek widened and i started myway up the mountain of rocks. I climbed and admired the beauty. It was like nothing ive ever seen beofre. Hidden away off into the woods and at the end of a dirt road I found myself inspired just a touch. Inspiration? i thought to myself. How on earth could i write about it in hopes of describing the beauty of the boulder breeze. I pulled out some extra line and went into my casting rhythim with an attempt to hit some midwaterfall-rock pool. It was quiet and my thoughts wandered away from the beauty of my surroundings. I had to take a deep breath and turn around to admire the view. Even if i dont get to ever write about this moment I can paste a picture into my head. Forever. "You know what matt....this experience is for you and you alone. Who cares if you get to promote beauty in the world through writing." well my friend there i was arguing my own thoughts

it's

just

nice

to

be

here.

Its truely been a trip. The whole spring-theme. Rainbow cookies and spring in the hamptons. Writings from a wanna be outdoorsman. What on earth would i have to say?

maybe its pretty. all those sunsets and sunrises.

It truely has been nice.

And ive decided that i enjoy it

with no regrets as to late-blooming

a career or a pathway or even my forever

"nitche in society"

at the time, im aware of greatness,

and in some strange way maybe im a part of it as well

the beauty hidden away, yet right there in the words you read.

And then as odd as it sounds. on may 22nd , a special time in my existance i saw a rainbow over a rainbow. It was absolutley wonderfull and now that i think about it im not shure if ive ever seen something so collorfull. different than my rainbow cookie.

And to you mr pumpkinseed. How ever important youve come to my collor-seeking eyes. A great entry into the fishing journal. I have been blessed with your beauty multiple times and locations already this year. Upper peconic and even upper newyork state. mOst of all my friend was that time when me and christian went to catch pond seeking "some pure pumpkinseed fishing" christian was awarded with the "catch pond tripple play" meaning that he has succesfully caught/released and safely landed all three species in the pond. I for one stook there in my hip boots and fly casted "kesslers creation" of a fly at the pumpkinseed patch. the connection that i have with pumpkinseeds is....everytime they bite/wiggle/run thir scrappy fighting selves away from me, its for the one reason that i have hooken them.

and

then

I

smile

and

think

to

myself

"man

what

a

pretty

fish"

And my friend the chain pickerel, early spring...early, early Ive danced with you as well. Your an amaxing fighter and camoflauge yourself into the waters. to you my friend the "waterwolf" lacking in collor. making up for it in being a part of my adventures. The seccond largest pickerel i hafe caught in my life. Even though of trophy proportions, his home is in the waters and that is where i placed him.

ONE

MOMENT

OF

FUN

IS

FOREVER

IN

MY

MIND

the greatest of my journeys (put aside the jar of honey and the rock) has been my adventure back to mystery river. The smallest headwater of the mighty black river. Here i was able to fish for the prittiest fish that i'd ever seen. They looked as if the colloring was chosen from a painters pallate. Brushed with beauty these native brookies were the most excellent of brookies anywhere. There location is a secret in which i was told "dude dont write about that, or anyways if you do dont give away the location" - mystery creek found its way into my advenutres and stories. Most of all , is the beauty that ive harnessed through the journey of

rock

jumping

and woodsing

my woodsman like self

through

the rugged

and

the real

woods.

than at the quogue canall with my buddy from work (on our break) i hooked into a 7 lb bluefish on my ultralight weight tackle. My reel sang like ive never before heard it sing and my rod didnt twich, it bounced around with a jumping smile on my face. I looked to my buddy smiling "its alot more fun on the light tackle, give the fish a chance"

gyotaku was done and turned out awesome.

And than the rainbow returned. It wasnt in the sky, it was hidden away in long islsnds rivers. I found beauty again. Wait , it wasnt past tense. I have been finding beauty in long islands rivers.

the carmans (formally known as snecdors) brought some rainbow to my life

but most of all the collor has made my existance a pretty one

and in retrospect -im still that little kid smiling from big rainbows.

and

rainbow

cookies!

Reading the Water

I pulled up to the end of Beach Lane to have a glance at the Quogue Canal. There was a bridge at this spot that couldn’t stand the forces of the great 1938 hurricane. At the time it was very deep to allow for boat passes; now the depth of this spot well be seen by many fishing lures, and on occasion, fish as well.
As I exited my vehicle, a female golden retriever came over to investigate my presence as I said hello to its owner/friend. “Any luck here today?” I asked. I left my fishing rod in my car and walked over to have a look.
“No luck, as of yet. Actually looking pretty quiet here.” I bent down and gave his golden-colored friend a scratch on the ears and followed with a smile.
“What do you mean when you say that it’s quiet here? Are you talking tides?” I looked at the water line on the bulkhead across the canal just to have an idea of what was going on.
The dog’s owner responded with, “Well the canal usually fishes O.K. regardless of the tides, but there’s no birds working, nor are there any baitfish. It’s not quiet here, it’s dead.” I gazed up at the clouds, smiled at the dog one more time and proceeded to walk to my car. As I shifted my car into the drive position, I poked my head out of the window and yelled to the man and his dog, “good luck!”
Even though “luck” is helpful to have along when fishing, there are also an infinite number of other determining factors that can assist you in locating and catching fish. The surrounding environment that nature provides for us should be used as a building block to learn from. Unfortunately, you cannot go about enrolling into a class entitled “reading the water”, nor is it something that can be explained easily. What the non-fisher may call a “myth”, is a quality similar to the “sixth sense” obtained from experience on and around the waters. Even though I could never call myself a talented enough outdoorsman to explain such a subject, I still feel it my need to point you in the direction of some fish. Or better yet, maybe you’ll learn to point yourself in the direction in which to cast your lines.
If you’re casting your lines in the freshwaters for largemouth bass (Micropterous Salmoides) here are some keys and hints on Americas most popular game fish. Those who know the secret will follow it to their grave that bass are nocturnal, full moon monsters. If you’re hunting monsters under the full moon, your odds of landing a lunker largemouth bass are greater than your chances of catching other ghouls and goblins that may haunt the air. If it’s late at night or even into the morning under the full moon, you may turn a bit crazy yourself, in the solitude of the vastness and quiet. This, however is the essence of learning and picking up on your hidden senses. According to Bauer these night time fishers rely on “feel” more than sight (Bauer 101).
If you remembered to bring along your polarized glasses they may come very useful when peering into the waters under the light of day. When observing the waters of bass land keep in mind to take advantages of shade and structure and also fish depth changes, as well as in and around vegetation (Maas 76).
Over the years, I have also learned to enjoy the company of the birds fluttering nearby and/or circling above. The most common birds to share the local waters with are the Osprey, or otherwise known as the “fish hawk” (Eastman 150). Proving that a waters healthy food source thrives to feed their young, these fishing birds perform impressive dives which often produce larger fish than I may be catching at the time. It is also a great sight to experience, and would be wise to note in the fishing journal “big fish in pond. Was out fished by birds today”.
My favorite and most common other friends of the freshwater are as follows: Belted Kingfisher, Red-Tailed Hawk, Great Blue Heron and the Black Crowned Night Heron. The Belted Kingfisher has also been noted to do “belly flop” dives, a useful method of scurrying some fish out from the Lilly pads and into capturing sight (Boag 84).
It’s always helpful and enjoyable to bring along the binoculars for the fisher birds as well as the birds of beauty. On the local waters you should take a bird identifying book and be prepared to note in your journal the sightings of Fly Catchers and Baltimore Orioles. If you’re cruising down Dune Road also look for Red-Winged Black birds as well as the Egrets, slowly walking the shores, fishing.
There is a great connection between seagulls and the mysterious stares from the eyes of boat captains. Strong and big fish can be found underneath the circling and diving of seagull flocks due to one fact. They are after the same school of bait fish. In the ways of Darwinism the bait fish are on the bottom of the food chain, swimming for their lives through the mayhem of Seagulls, Bluefish and hopefully the Stripped Bass. Locate the birds, and you have found the fish.
Keeping in mind the importance of other determining factors let’s slide our legs into the neoprene of waders, and take a walk to the river. Even though we fish for fun, we know and are aware of the unending doldrums of the bends and pools in the rivers where we cast our lines. People line up, rain or shine, and camp out while they drink and speak Latin of some sort. The Latin in which the fly fishers are known to mumble is not the scientific name of the targeted species of fish, nor is it bird-related.
Scattered throughout America, probably in the places in which you would least expect, are a rare breed of insect geniuses. You’ll have your number of dentists, bus drivers, saxophone players and you’ll have your fly tiers. Now, whether you spend your life trying to tie and replicate the trout’s diet or not, you’re still involved in the fun. You’re a fisherman aren’t you?
You’re a new-wave “entomologist-angler”, and even though you know a thing or two about fish, you’re a genus in insects because the trout eat them. You know what week of what month this and that type of insects will hatch and even the time of day and cloud formation that will make this hatch possible.
You may be into photography as well, and if you are you’ll have an extra powerful zoom lens. You’re a bird and insect lover right? It’s only necessary.
The dentist, and the fly tier are lined up and peering into the river. The bus driver and saxophone player come running alongside the river to meet the pair of fellow anglers. Two of them have waders dripping the river’s water , and one with no fly and a long tapered tippet , or what was left of his leader, flying behind him as he made his way to the fly tier.
After the usual of shaking hands, it was all business: they aren’t there to hang out. “Ephemerella!” said the bus driver. The saxophone player waved the end of his rod at the fly tier and dentist, signifying that he had been “bit off” and said, “Yeah Mayflies. Got him to take an emerger.”
The fly tier slipped his hand into a pocket on his fishing vest and pulled out a light green, floating rectangular shaped book. As he opened his box of flies, the saxophone player, bus driver and the dentist leaned over to have a look as well. Even though the fly tier has some hoppers, stone flies and “carry always” flies, his book was filled with flies of different sizes and stages of the Ephemerella’s life span. The fly tier had the mayfly in nymph form, emerging, and adult form as well. He had perfect imitations in all sizes. Remember he does this for a living right?
He handed a size 18 mayfly emerger to the bus driver and the saxophone player. All that was left was the dentist who was bug-eyed himself and staring, into the book of pretty Mayfly imitations.. The fly tier grabbed a size 20 artificial fly between his pointer and thumb and looked at it really closely. “Here, try a size 20; you’ll do better on a smaller fly anyways”. The dentist looked up with bright eyes and smiled at the proud fly tier. He snatched the pretty and small mayfly-emerger and started tying his new fly to the end of his leader.
They all proceeded in their own direction into the woods to their favorite stretch/pool of the river. The dentist yelled through the woods before getting to far. “Thanks for the emerger, very pretty!” The fly tier, who was just taking his first step into the river, smiled for a minute and thought about his response. He looked up at the pretty sunset and responded to the dentist before he got too far away. “Guess they don’t teach you everything in dental school”. From the opposing direction in the woods and already a distance away, the bus driver and saxophone player were heard chuckling from the fly tier’s response.

the lure of night and moon alike

I had just launched my little blue kayak onto Big Fresh Pond in Noyak in hopes of fishing away the night. It was late, yet still sometime before midnight. I was supposed to meet my two twin friends that I have known since my early skateboard days on the water. If you know a set of skateboarding twins that reside on or close to Big Fresh Pond there’s a big possibility that we know the same people.
The pond that I was fishing is extremely large, and has a small alewife brook in which hundreds of thousands of small silvery fish make their way up into the pond providing a perfect food source for any predatory fish ready and willing to eat. An ideal habitat to grow Largemouth Bass (Micropterous Salmoides) to an extraordinarly large size. Now, let’s not talk numbers in weight here, because then we could be stretching the truth or even telling tall tales. My only source and belief behind this idea was an article on the alewife migration in the Southampton press that spring.
If you consider yourself knowledgeable in the outdoors or even some underwater ecology let me throw out the information that the D.E.C. provides to you in hopes to filter out any confusion, complications, or disbelief. At 64 acres B.F.P. holds the following naturally reproducing species: Largemouth Bass, Chain Pickerel, Bluegill, Pumpkinseed, Brown Bullhead, American eel, Yellow Perch and also White Perch. Early in the season and occurring around the full moon in March it also holds alewife as well.
Anyways, so I started kayaking across the vastness of the pond in the general direction of the spot in which I “felt” they were launching from. On the way , as I was hugging the shores and covering ground (aka speed) an angry, evil bat thought it would be fun harassing me. It proceeded to fly close to my face and than, at the last second dart away. Until I had a clear moment to paddle away from its area’s, I was flailing my fishing rod and yelling! Bad word’s found their way up from my vocal chords. I am usually very agile and well-balanced on the kayak’s until that short moment during our battle. The bat was a strange experience and I cant be positive who got the better of the exchange. All I know is I think the vampire in me showed as well. For an eerie few seconds I had fell a victim to the full moon madness. It happens to the best of us.
After receiving a phone call we communicated by whistles. We docked our boats together through the wind of whistles and under the spell of the full moon as well. They had a big boat of some sort, and had obviously been drinking. It was an interesting sight to watch as they tried rigging up. We talked of tackle and lures. Chilled for a bit. They told me of a fish that they almost caught when they were younger. Those legend fish that are so big that they break your line before even seeing the boat.
Everyone has a big fish encounter at one point or another if you keep at it. Most stories and legends of the ones that get away are never believed. Every now and then someone will catch one of these things , just to prove that it’s no bullshit. I Believe their story.
And so we fished. We hung out, chilled, had some laughs and more importantly fished on. We fished around coves, corners, lily pads docks and other fallen tree structures. At one point I caught a small bass close to shore on a top water, jointed rapala. We all got excited. It was a nice experience as opposed to getting shut out. It wasn’t getting any earlier and I did have to work tomorrow morning. “or is it today” I think to myself as I look at the time on cell phone. I have to work today. I have to work TODAY. As I paddle my kayak on the big pond the song of “I have to work today yay me” finds it’s way into my head. This moon was making me crazy. Time to go.
We decided that it is, indeed, getting late and we should fish our way back. Wait which way is back?
My thoughts were interrupted by a big splash about 20 feet in front of my kayak. Even though my mind was elsewhere before that particular moment , I knew that the location in which the splash had come from was directly where I had just casted my tube bait. I set the hook.! The big splash was apparently a fish of some sort that came up from the depths to have a bite on my white tube bait that I was jigging along on the surface.
Fish on! I yell to the mystery twins. No wait. Big fish on! Excitement ran up my spine as I had to handle the situation properly using logic, reason and just the right amount of tension. I was dealing with a big fish here, there was no need for horseplay and I certainly didn’t want to pull and reel so hard as to make it only a story. When I finally got the fish to my hand on the side of my kayak, I got a good grip of the fishes mouth, stuck my hand in and pulled up a monster. It came up in slow motion. There was along pause when lifting the fish up before I saw its tail. Absolutely enormous. I thought to myself as we paddled towards each other , so I could give them a look. We were all amazed. This was the biggest bass that they have ever seen. I decided that the best thing to do was to paddle to shore for a quick photograph and an “official weigh in”. So we were off to shore, before all hell broke loose.
I’m not sure why I turned around to look at them, but what I did see was their boat going down. They were tipping over at a slow pace sideways. Now you’d think that something like this would happen fast, but being there and at the moment I recalled it being similar to the sinking of the titanic. The two had leaned the same way, and that was it. There was splashing and they disappeared.
Apparently they were under the canoe and swimming in an upward motion as to keep the boat up. Sucking air from underneath they struggled their way towards an area where they could touch.. I wasn’t sure if I should laugh or save them. At the moment I didn’t do either. I sat on my kayak with my jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I thought the moon magic had me hallucinating for a minute. This was a serious “man-down” incident and nobody laughs till afterwards.
We all approached the shore slowly, except they walked there dripping, splashing and dragging the canoe. They were not happy with what happened. Blackberry’s were lost and so were house keys. Bummer. One of them threw his shirt and went up the hill swearing, and the other hopped back in the canoe. Half way filled with water and ready to go down at any given moment, he slowly paddled up to me. At this point I couldn’t identify who was who, but I think he gave me a slight smile, shivered and paddled home. “peace benham”
Wow that was a trip. When I hit the shore, I carried on with my business, as to things properly and provide my lunker of a bass with a safe release. I took off my shoes and socks and rolled up my pant legs as to stand in the water and pump some water back into the fish’s gills. One of my hands reached into the tackle box and pulled out my digital scale. My thumb hit the on switch and I slid the piece under the gill of the fish and let it hang there for a second. With my free hand, I grabbed a lighter from my pocket and flicked the bic and held the flame to my digital scale.
I held the fish one more time under the full moon and admired it’s length and girth. This was indeed, a big largemouth bass. I stuck my fist in the fishes mouth, just to double check that this was really happening. Then I bent down on my knees and the fish finally swam off. Maybe to live out his years to eat the alewife’s every year. Fat boy himself. Go, swim away my friend. You were fun and I had a great time catching you.
I stood up and wiped my hands on my jeans and looked up at the stars, and the big moon and smiled to myself. That was one hell of a fish! As I put my shoes back on I noticed a bat fluttering in the distance.
There’s always been some unexplainable mystery involved in the full moon. Its an odd addiction and a crazy one. The warewolfs come out, canoe’s tip over and that crazy bat is coming back after me. Time to leave now. And as I walked back up the trail , the song found its way back into my head again. “Have to work today, yay me yay me” Shut up matt, your scale got to weigh a big fish today.

Turkey Vulture

Let's face it, i was stumped. I had been seeing some strange bird of prey, which was out of the norm for long island, circling above, as birds of prey normally do.
The new bird of which (according to my fishing journal) I had seen three times in the late of march. This bird is absoluteley hugh, and extremeley dark, with a bit of lighter collorings towards the tips of the wings.

-now- my original guess, was something in the falcon family, but that couldnt be backed by any bird-identifying book. My nana mentioned that there are other members of the hawk family, some of which would not have the red tail.

so earlier today, in one of my outdoorsish spots i went walking with my music and my camera. Now at the end of the hike that i normally run (walked today though) I entered to the shelter to discuss among the gods this newfangled visitor. I did my normal walk around saying hi to all of the non-homeosapien friends, when he acknowledged my presence. He probally noticed my camera slung around my neck, and advantage wetlands camo hat from texas, appearing to have an outdoorshish flavor. Now among the "god" you can and have the ability to open your mouth about things. He knows that im excited about the thousands of ells about to make their migration up from the salts but on the other hand, i myself (not a god of nature) do decide to keep some things to myself. ASn exaplle is my experience with the bobcat, because in any nature-god'ed mind i'd be full of shit. Similiar to saying that i have seen a yetti.

not looking up from his computer (even god's have computers) he said "hows it going"
and that started our conversation. I usually start something of this nature with "whats new and exciting around"..and after a little humming and thinking to himself he relpied "red tailed hawks started building their nests". Finally enough of a question to drop the bomb. "ya know ive been seeing this new bird of prey circling above, 3 times in the past 2 weeks, really really big with some lighter by the wing tips and i have no idea what it is" and he looked up from his computer, as if i had given him the password to santa's christas list- and our eyes met and he said two words "turkey vulture".

I thanked him and didnt want to waste his time so i carried on. As i was waling out the door i heard him mumble to me with my back turned as i was walking out the door "hey where did you see them?" and i explained that i think where the two forks of long island connect.- actually i didnt say that i said

county road 51 and on the north fork

and god replied "they have stoped here on their migration journey, not shure what theyre doing, but your the seccond person that reported a sighting"

as i left he probally made a note of the sighting into his computer, minimizing santa;'s christmas list. I exited and god stayed there thinking and thinking and thinking.

Who would have ever thought that there are turkey vultures on long island.

They I migrated back to work.

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