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April 11, 2013

April 12th Miscellaneous: What Happens When I Look at a Picture. Not Quite 1000 Words. and Asbury Park on my Mind. April 12, 2013

Sometimes I have no clue where the time goes. I have been blogging here for 3 years and loved every evolution. When I started his blog, I was ‘home’ for the holidays and for 365 days a year so there was time to reflect and update the blog weekly. Then after two years, I became a journalist in (Asbury Park) Monmouth County, New Jersey and a few months after that started with NJ Discover TV and suddenly last autumn, I’ve got a whole new life. From whence I’ve become a music, art and para-normal journalist. I also still thrive on environmental reporting. But I can’t get to this blog as often as I’d like. You get pulled in new directions. This blog is my home. So is NJ Discover and Facebook. I do write very creative things daily on my Facebook wall (Cal Schwartz) and more so on my Calvin Schwartz-Cerebral Writer (

wall. So if you’re reading this, come join me on Facebook, friend me and we’ll stay in touch. Yes I’ll always blog here.  I’ve also been asked to write a biography of  one of the most important figures in the global music world and I’m deeply honored and thrilled. That takes time away too. So in the interest of quirky fascinating blogs, I’ve chosen to bring some pictures and accompanying words from Calvin Schwartz-Cerebral Writer for this blog installment. They’re all short stories so to speak and most pictures I took exploring the world. Be well.


with writer, actor, director Joe Basile of movie ‘West End’ ( ) filmed on the Jersey Shore. for me a powerful character study which i loved. tonight film at Soho Intl Film Fest. it won in Garden State Film Fest where THIS pix taken last week Asbury Park paramount theatre. i orchestrated (in the orchestra section ) this pix. using special effect of sloping aisle so Joe looks so much taller. as i observed earlier Joe reminds me of a young (Rocky) Sylvester Stallone.(same multi-faceted) cal schwartz, writer,






i don’t sit still. watching a live radio WCTC broadcast last week. i snuck out. climbed stairs in the old paramount theater in Asbury Park. the 2nd floor. rather haunting. desolate. a few small lights in hallway. then to third floor. it was awful chilly on staircase. felt not alone. then i found this door to 3rd floor. but i stopped. the ambiance made me. i turned around. now i’ll always wonder what was behind the door. i just finished a banana. i need the potassium.









lately. sitting in a remote spot. on a beach. or on the 2nd floor backstage of an old theatre which is probably haunted i think about things. the pursuit of clarity. i carry a camera to facilitate. never carried a camera before. suddenly last summer i started. PIX: sunday from the electricity of the JAM awards in Ocean Grove (444 feet from Asbury Park) near the very end of the 7 hour show, a band on stage and i drifted far away. long ago. and i was moved. and remote. and how i wished my father had remote control growing up.








when i was in kindergarten i couldn’t sit still. i wandered around. never raised my hand. called out things in class and annoyed the teacher who wrote my parents a letter. eisenhower was just elected president. perhaps the letter writing today is substituted for chemicals. point being. i was sitting in the Paramount theatre in Asbury Park on friday part of Garden State Film Festival and while WCTC 1450 was doing live broadcast(with Bert Baron) i couldn’t sit still. i explored the deep recesses of the greasepaint and theatre. backstage and upstairs where the temperature seemed to drop 20 degrees. hey it gets hot tomorrow in jersey (80 degrees)









sometimes i like to slip thru barricades and go where i’m not supposed to.captain kirk went to places beyond. i remember a 60’s song, imagination. there was this huge party on the beach blanket. people were playing bingo. PIX: roaming around on day before Garden State Film Festival at Asbury Park convention hall. indeed greetings and lights and ocean. Festival concludes today. “you should’ve been there”








it’s 4:21 am. it’s either quite late or eerily early. most pictures i post here are from my own taking. i looked for a while and i couldn’t find that certain feeling of expression. but i have sources. i’m a journalist after all. so here’s a strange pix. a year or so ago in my blog at i used to tackle some consumerism issues. i strayed. but earlier today i heard a report about drug stores(chains mostly) and the prices they charge. i used to be a pharmacist in an earlier life on another planet. now i can say how some unsuspecting americans are raped by out of control prices. a month supply of a generic statin drug is $20 at a ware house pharmacy and $150 at a neighborhood national chain. is there a better word than rape. i think it’s time to watch wuthering heights again.. and to pretend i am heathcliffe.









perhaps a cosmic magnetic phenomenon but i am always drawn to the jersey shore. even yesterday. a cold wind. but i found my way to Asbury Park and watched rebuilding and construction. i climbed over a barricade and took pixs. a worker approached and asked if i was with the city of Asbury Park. he told me i need a hard hat to be on the construction site. i said (quoting the terminator) “i’ll be back” knowing i didn’t have a hard hat in the trunk. but i had telescopic lenses. and the jersey strong shore will be open for memorial day.








i don’t know. there is a certain beauty to urban art. decay. abandonment. disrepair. so i stared at this scene in long branch nj. actually on the set of a movie, ‘The Soulless’ appropriately dealing with zombies and other matters. far from an amusement park with ice cream, cotton candy, dreams and rides back to the future. i enjoy the solitude of urban settings and wonder when and who and why. some times i wonder about picking up a blowing in the wind piece of paper. holding it. and then writing about it. imagination. “the origin of dirt’. hey its tuesday. yogurt with pineapple. somewhere up north maybe its pasta.











i ponder the phenomenon of urban living. spatial requirements. concrete roads as opposed to clay to ride bikes on. often i’ve tried to gather the gumption to find a cabin like henry (d. thoreau) did. i travel often the introspective highway to see if i could support myself in a cabin (sustainability is a hot buzz word). then the truth slaps me hard. i snap out of it. and realize i need suburban living. and get this. i’ve come to accept i am addicted to the smell of new jersey car exhaust in the morning. sitting around walden pond even though its commercialized now can not afford me the car exhaust i need.









fri night. a view of backstage at a backstage event at the strand theatre in lakewood nj (built in 1922) the band, ‘slim chance and the gamblers’ dazzled. funny, curious. i was in lakewood exactly one week before when Tent City residents went to court to fight for human dignity and their tents. later around midnight i walked around the deserted streets of lakewood. papers blew in the wind. reminded me of sagebrush. tumbleweed. i was in the western town dodge city. billy the kid told me to ride out of town. and not to stop. then i realized i was all alone. “shane, come back”








i hung out at the MET museum in NYC. quite frankly i love museums in nyc. a long time ago i used to go and study etchings with a notebook. better than a singles bar. now it is pure absorption. i was fascinated with sculptures in the atrium adjacent to a cafeteria. and i smiled at the oblivious scene all around. in their own worlds of egg salad wraps and decaf coffee. it also reminded of a scene from hitchcock’s ‘north by northwest’. when the gun goes off. except a little boy puts his hand over ears before shot. happy thursday.







omigosh its 1:11 am friday. i write best with the sounds of silence all around. its been a long time since everyone on the street where i lived went bowling. well, once a month anyway. then after to a local diner for french fries and gravy. there were no tuna wraps back then. no wraps at all. now its rap. my parents balked when bill haley and the comets started. they were hooked on benny goodman, duke ellington and glenn miller. for a long time i wondered about getting the perspective from where the bowling pins hung out. what they see and feel. so i ventured. so i saw. not sure i felt yet. maybe friday at 1 pm on the steps of the ocean county court house. thanks to Asbury Lanes in Asbury Park New Jersey








someone recently asked why idea of cerebral writer. a long story. lot of roads. inspirations. observations. spiritual interventions. and of course an on going process. i was thrilled hanging with auguste rodin and other cerebral statues in an urban museum. later when the museum lights were off, i walked into the world of Egyptian antiquity. they make movies about these experiences. pix: me and Balzac athlete. i would’ve taken him one on one in a nearby playground but i wasn’t dressed for it.







                                                                                                                                                                         Please “LIKE” CALVIN SCHWARTZ-CEREBRAL WRITER.                                                                                                                    

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