Arts by Ben, for the People

 

The Platform Review, put out by Arts by the People, published a poem of mine "Big Apple Showtimes." Maybe I posted it before? Well, it might be new for you.

Washington Bridge Planh (Introducing Reuben St. Awesome)

 

Hello all, The Journal of Expressive Writing has published a poem of mine under the title Washington Bridge Plan. However, it is supposed to be Planh, a reference to a lamentable genre of troubadour poetry. Anyway, the poem is told from the perspective of one Reuben St. Awesome, a character I've created. Reuben is a pop star currently on tour when the poem takes place.  

Flying into the Sun, Part II

No, your eyes and minds and your minds eyes don't deceive you. I already posted about a poem I got published in the Red Ogre Review. Has the poem changed? No. Has another one been added? Again, no. Yet, there is something different this time. The medium. Now in addition to reading, you can hear me reading, while you read along too!

Flying into the Sun

 

New poem of mine up at the Red Ogre Review. It is titled "Action Packed." Not to be confused with the happiest place on Earth, Action Park, NJ. The origins of this work are peculiar. While I put these lines in order, the individual words were gleaned from an episode of the old Halkias Bros. Art Stream, (NSFW)  especially where they review submissions from their listeners. 

Ridin' the Rails, Part I

Last week I embarked on another cross-country journey across this country's rails. No, I didn't pack up my bindle and hop on board a cattle car like a hobo in search of adventure and vittles. Instead, I took the Amtrak from New York to Los Angeles, by way of New Orleans. From New to New and LA to LA. The first leg of the journey was on the Crescent. It took me along the first 1,377 miles (2,216 km) of the trip, through Philadelphia, DC, Atlanta, Birmingham, and Meridian, Mississippi. 

It all started at Moynihan Train Hall. This is the new waiting area for Amtrak passengers. Although part of Penn Station, it is housed in the former Post Office building that used to be next to Madison Square Garden. No more huddling in a bunker, waiting for announcements, or wandering with bags in a circle trying to find the Primo Cappuccino you swear is different than the three others in the station. 

As you can see, it is a much more spacious facility. There weren't a ton of options for food and drink set up yet. However, that was not of much particular concern to me because on this trip I was one of Amtrak's very special passengers. part of the elite, the elect, the chosen. Since I was taking a sleeper car, I had the privilege of hanging out in the Metropolitan Lounge. Situated on the second floor, it had space for me to spread out, store my luggage, grab a few complimentary bites to eat, and surf the web.

Amtrak Valhalla, where only the bravest and least claustrophobic travelers go

I recommend the provolone and fig sandwich

Ha! Peasants! Ha! Look up my free bag of chips and despair!

They called my train number and I went down into the bowels of Penn Station. While the entryway where I made my descent was changed, the actual platforms where the trains pull up are the same.

My roomette was interesting. It was a different setup than the one I used on the Empire Builder last time I took the train across this great land of ours. 

Looking at it reminded me of the Skylab exhibit at the Air and Space Museum

You can't say they don't use every available inch of space on the train. One of the steps leading to the top bunk opens up and underneath is a toilet. That's right, folks, you can do your business while watching the country fly right by you. You can do it while going through the woods at night, or as the train passes over a river. You can even do it while looking at people stuck in traffic down below.

The light is not as ominous as the picture makes it out to be

And above it is the sink. Good for washing of hands and drinking of cups of water. There were other watering holes on board as well. But, for sleeper car passengers these are the bathroom facilities, right in the roomette for your convenience and possible slight embarrassment. The showers are outside, shared by the neighborhood. Other amenities in the roomette: a table that pulled out, as a bunk to be pulled down, and another that I formed by sliding out the seats.

The table that folds out isn't big enough for a standard laptop

I found the secret storage rack! 

We pulled out of Penn Station and started to head south and west away from the city. The first stops on the Crescent were all familiar to me since I go between DC and NY on the train quite frequently. There was nothing drastically new to see while this part of the country flew by. I took a leak while looking out at the Meadowlands, so that was a change of pace from usual. It wasn't until the train left Union Station that I got to see a new side of America. Now I got to experience going over the Potomac in a passenger car and the sight of the Alexandria, Virginia station. 

Playing hide-and-go-seek with the Capitol

They do feed you on the train and the food and soft drinks are complimentary. For my first meal I had the shrimp and andouille sausage creole, in honor of my first destination: New Orleans. 

I watched Chinatown in honor of my second destination

I had eggs for breakfast, and for my second lunch I went with the vegan/vegetarian option of enchiladas. I can't speak for the sourcing of the materials (especially the rolls or what was used for the cheese) but they tasted good. 

The salads come with two dressings: ranch and Italian.
Oh, and you get a free alcoholic drink on the train. 

You spend roughly a day and a half on the train and get into New Orleans at night. That meant one more dinner. I went with the chicken marsala. It was fine. Overall I rank the enchiladas first, the marsala second, and the creole last. To accompany it, I bought a glass of white wine.

During my time on the Crescent, I found myself contorting myself in all manner of positions, surprised at how limber I still am. It felt like playing around in jungle gyms, Discovery Zones, and ball pits as a child. One of my projects was to find a way to use my laptop on the train. As my previous picture shows, the table provided is good for playing chess but little else. To that end I developed a standing-desk, Amtrak style. I put the top bunk down, placed my laptop on top of the bunk, and stood on top of the cover for the toilet. 

Metro Card for scale

With a little innovation you too can transform your spaces to help with work and play! From this perch I watched Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi roll on by. Lots of lush landscapes, forests, glens, farms, paddocks, and some cities.

Like Birmingham, Alabama

Then as night fell, the Crescent went across Lake Pontchartrain (putting the "train" in Pontchartrain you can say) It was too bad that it was dark out and I couldn't see any of the water or the city or the other side. It's one of the issues with the long journeys on Amtrak. You can't time things just right so you see things when you want to. The train keeps going and stops when its wants. You're a passenger, along for the ride, surrendering your control, in exchange for the ability to stand on a toilet and write.

It's a Prose Day in the Neighborhood

The drought of short fiction is broken folks. Up at Short Story Town there is a piece by me called "Plugged into the Jacket." It's at the top of the page for now. In a week or so you might have to scroll down to find it. It may or may not be based on a time when I wrote essays meant for other people to use for studying purposes. No comment.

Low Risk Fuel

First blog post coming at you all from quarantine. To be honest, it feels like when I lived in New Jersey. Staying indoors and glued to screens. Nevertheless, the poetry has persisted. Here is a poem just published in As It Ought to Be Magazine,

A Minor Festival...

...awaits you over at the Rye Whiskey Review, where my poem Festival Minor was published. There's also a young picture of me back when I called New Jersey home.

Going to the Dogs

Dear readers, I will give you a fair warning. This short story is technically a reprint. However, it was published several years ago, so it's probably new to most of you, right? It was published in Clever Magazine then, and it's published in Clever Magazine now. Of course, back then it was called Apex Prey, now it's called Cat and Mouse Games. It also says I live in Montclair, New Jersey. of course that's not been the case for many years now.

Nardo Goes West, Part One

Friends and readers, this summer I’m embarking on a journey out west. It’ll take me from Brooklyn, New York, to Seattle, Washington. It’ll only last couple of days but I’ll be going through much of the country and seeing the sights and cities pass me along on the way. I won’t by going on the road. No, I’ll be going by rail. Yes, America still allows that. Most of my journey will be on the Empire Builder. It spans the West from Chicago to Seattle. On my way there, I’ll be utilizing the Pennsylvanian from New York to Pittsburgh, and then the Capitol Limited to get to Chicago.

***

Is that the Empire Builder? No, it's the Q Local to 96th Street

My trip began in Brooklyn, more specifically the Ditmas Park neighborhood where I live. Saturday morning, I gathered my things and took the first of my trains: the Q. While it may not have the cushioned seats, bathrooms, or café cars that Amtrak trains have, it does have more reliable internet and free entertainment that you can’t shut off! 

I was heading to Penn Station. Thankfully the 2 and 3 are now running between Manhattan and Brooklyn on weekends. This way I could just transfer to the 2 from the Q in Brooklyn and take that to Penn Station at 34th Street. The Q doesn't go there directly, you have to get off near the Empire State Building and walk two long blocks over. Since it was hot and humid, I refused to do that. It was worth it go the extra stops before reaching the first of many destinations.

Every time I have to walk through this corridor in Penn Station,
I expect to see Fred Leuchter taking samples off the tiles here

Once I was at Penn Station, I had time to kill, so I walked around the area. One I reached 1 West 34th Street, I decided to stop. This would be the farthest East I would go. This trip is about going west, WEST like a real pioneer.

I waited by the disco stairs for my train, the Pennsylvanian, which would take me to Pittsburgh

I also used the new men's room. I guess "new" is relative. They fixed the sinks mostly. I didn't see any changes to the urinals or the stalls. Maybe they washed them for the first time since Ford told the city to drop dead. For a while, any men looking to relieve themselves had to follow a series of confusing signs to use a facility outside near Madison Square Garden. It wasn't an outhouse or a Port-a-John. It's wasn't a Sublime Porte either. It was a decent place to go that was exposed to the traffic, wind, and passersby. It's probably how Cornelius Vanderbilt went to the bathroom back when he owned the railroads. Everyone else had to use a chamber pot, or an empty jug from Primo Cappuccino.

The sinks are state of the art, and by "state" I mean horribly inept because they are supposed
to dispense soap, water, and hot air from a single device.

I originally sat in Coach by mistake, but was moved to business class. One good thing about heading west is that the trains have more legroom. Coach or business it doesn't matter. 

Coach class legroom

Business class legroom

The train, like Penn Station was warm. The WiFi was decent. We went through New Jersey to Philadelphia, and from Philadelphia through Pennsylvania to Pittsburgh. I guess you could call it model train country. Everything looks like it was built by enthusiasts of miniature trains. The mountains, the forests, the towns sloping up the sides of valleys, plus the antique stations and industry. Of course, to get there, we had to go through Industrial, and then Zen Nowhere New Jersey. I'm not complaining. I got to see where they assemble Blue Apron meals, plus a large pharmaceutical plant. They were next to one another.

Pictured: the Protein Pack

Pictured: Islands in the Stream

Pictured: Johnstown (not to be confused with the picture above)

There was no need to transfer in Philadelphia. I was able to ride on through. One guy in front of me was supposed to be traveling with a friend of his. Unfortunately he was unable to make it. A snippet of conversation between the Conductor and him:

"He won't be coming, he had a heart attack three days ago."

"Sorry to hear that"

"He was too."

We passed by Paoli, named for a Corsican revolutionary. How strange it is that we used to name things in this country about revolutionaries. Pulaski, Kossuth, Paoli, Kosciusko, etc. The train went by Three Mile Island, and I didn't see any three-headed birds or squirrels with laser vision. I assume that means things are fine. We stopped in Harrisburg, 

Trains of Railroads past haunted this part of the journey

Another one in Altoona, PA

Near the Juniata River, the comments from the conductor over the intercom were interesting, compared to the forceful reading of regulations I hear on the rails between New York City and Washington, D.C. He said we couldn't go barefoot between the cars and that smoking wasn't allowed. Also there would be no chance to take a smoking break because the stops at the stations were short. It was the first time I ever heard a conductor not only making this kind of announcement, but also apologizing to the smokers for the inconvenience. I guess this is what happens when you go west, young man!

More of Altoona, PA

More Altoona, in honor of my Great-Grandfather Norwood. Get it? Nor-wood!

Pittsburgh was a mix of disappointments and pleasant surprises. It has one of the most poorly laid out stations in the Amtrak system. It's small but you still have to go from the street and the waiting room up the stairs or an elevator to a platform. There's also nothing to do there while you wait. I went out and lugged my luggage through the Downtown, worried about what I would do. Luckily the Pirates were playing and they won. This way I was treated to a show of fireworks. it was pretty impressive and long. it was like celebrating the Fourth of July all over again. At midnight, I boarded the second train to complete the next leg of my journey to Chicago: the Capitol Limited. 

This time, I got a roomette to sleep in. 

Said Roomette, with complimentary water bottles

It came came with the amenities of a hotel room and the wild sense of possibilities that come from camping. It also had the space of travel by sea, along with swaying side to side. Still, it was a civilized experience, complete with coat hangers and a closet.

Coat hangers (not wire)

Closet space

There were sheets, pillows, shampoo, soaps, towels, conditioner, beauty kits, tweezers, shower caps, mending kits, and water bottles all offered to me as a traveler.

Sundries

Unfortunately I was traveling at night so there wasn't much to see. I was also too tired to stay awake and look for it. However, if I was traveling at the time, I could've used the swanky chairs of the observation car to watch the Great Lakes fly on by, plus the wonders of the Rust Belt: Cleveland, Toledo, and the time difference between Central and Eastern Standard Time.

You can pretend to be Captain Kirk

Sharkopedia: A Book Review

            Some of you might be looking at the title of the blog post and think I’m reviewing a book of ironically titled poems which is trying to cash in/mock the current obsession (a sharknado of interest as it were) with sharks in our country. Rest assured, this is one book you can judge by its title. However, if you want to read shark-themed poetry, you can do so here. Anyway, back to the basics. Sharkopedia is 192 pages long with over 400 photos of dozens of different species of sharks. In case you were wondering, it is published in connection with Shark Week by Time Home Entertainment. Thankfully the book only makes a small mention of the program in the credits section. Its main link to the Discovery Channel’s offering is the inclusion of tidbits from shark expert Andy Dehart, who has appeared on the show.

            Now, this Sharkopedia is meant for readers ages 8 and up, so in this review, I had to consider the full range of people the book is intended for. I would not recommend it for anyone younger, unless they understand that most sharks cannot live in freshwater and that none can live in a chlorinated swimming pool. Otherwise, the pictures would give them unfounded nightmares of being attacked.  I remember when I was young and I thought it was possible for a great white to wiggle its way up a drain and start chomping away at me in the wave pool at Cameron Run. For some reason, I assumed it would only attack me right as I was leaving the water. Hey, that’s sounds a good idea for a TV movie. Get on it Hollywood. Sharks in sinks! Sharks in tubs! Sharks in baptismal fonts!

            Of course, a kid 8 years or older might have similar fears after reading this book. However, they will be easier to reason with. For instance, they will learn that bull sharks are the only shark to worry about when they are in freshwater. More importantly, they will learn that shark attacks are few and far between and they are rarely fatal. Only about 5,000 shark attacks have been reported in the whole world since the 1500s, resulting in roughly 500 deaths. In turn, half of these shark bites were provoked by humans. More people have probably been killed in hippopotamus attacks. While Sharkopedia does do a good job of stressing these facts, it tends to focus too much on anecdotes of shark-on-man violence, which makes it hard for the mind to accept sharks as nothing more than an ever-present threat lurking in the ocean, hungry for human flesh and thirsty for our blood.

            The bulk of book is colorful and informative. All the major sharks are heavily featured: the infamous great whites, megamouths, hammerheads, nurses, makos, and tiger sharks. In addition, there are dozens of other species pictured and hundreds more listed by name. Sharkopedia does a good job showing the great variety and diversity of all eight orders of sharks. There are small sharks, giant sharks, colorful sharks, sharks that look like carpets, sharks smacking into seals, and sharks basking for zooplankton. However, there is precious little information on sharks loaning money at prohibitively high rates of interest and breaking legs in lieu of seizing collateral.  

            I admit, when I started to read the book, I was put off by looking at these creatures up close. I am not sure what it was exactly. Sharks do seem to be a strange mixture of other animals, a chimera of the seas. In a stereotypical species one sees the body of fish, the fins of dolphins, and the wide toothy mouths of lions or tigers. The dark eyes are reminiscent of what one finds on a massive cephalopod or one Allie Brosh’s characters from Hyperbole and a Half. Gradually, I warmed up to these creatures, aided by the discovery that some of them are capable of thermoregulation. It was also difficult to feel threatened by the pictures of blue, sharpnose, or goblin sharks. If schools of sharks were capable of dances, they would be the perpetual wallflowers unable to land a date or a partner for a song.

            Sharkopedia passed an important test expected of any book meant for a younger audience. It kept me up past my bedtime, albeit one which I have set in accordance with the dictates of health and reason and not school or parental controls. Whenever I finished one page, I immediately wanted to go to the next one, eager to look at more pictures and learn more about this collection of animals so misunderstood by the general public. No matter what section of the book I turned to, there was plenty to learn. While any of these facts might be found online, nothing beats the way a book like this can appeal to the curious reader in all of us. It also provides an enlightening and entertaining reading experience for a parent looking to take a dry and safe dive together into the world of sharks with a child. 

Poets, Looking for a Place to Send Rejected Work?

Then send it to Bay Laurel. They published some poems of mine in their latest issue.

Notes from the South Jersey Underground

SIX NEW POEMS of mine are available for you to read in the latest issue of the South Jersey Underground. My stuff starts on page 28. There are also some pretty pictures to look at along the way as you flip and Sweet Jane by the Velvet Underground may or not be playing in the background.

A Penny for Your Thoughts, a Nickel for Your Steak

Some poems for everybody to read. Here is one that mentions Marcel Proust. It is on the same site that has this poem as well. It makes reference to not-so-current-anymore-events.

Now let's get onto the main course since we've already devoured our Madeleines. At Nickel Steak I have two poems for consumption.

Buon Appetito!