Appalachia.
Will there be bugs?
Will there be humidity?
Will there be gorgeous views, lines, curves predating us humans?
You betcha.
Somewhere in North Carolina, 2011
Appalachia.
Will there be bugs?
Will there be humidity?
Will there be gorgeous views, lines, curves predating us humans?
You betcha.
Dear Reader,
There’s nothing quite like NYC at New Years. Add staying at a friend’s empty apartment in the East Village, your partner gifting you Phantom of the Opera tickets, listening, nay, feeling, music at the Vanguard, plus a sprinkling of interesting subway rides, and you’ve got yourself a great way to ring in 2012. This post is practically oozing with nostalgia for me..
the sounds,
the smells (maybe not),
the protests!
Yours truly,
Insufferable in 4:6 😉
Was it even New York, did you even go, if you didn’t take this picture?
San Francisco, 2010. I walked the streets of Mission, watched a man dangle mid air in front of the ferry building, attempted a vegetarian diet, and met many a dapper French bulldog.
She’s out of focus, but I love her.
Hoping I get back this decade…
Washington State has tulips on the brain this month. I know, I know. "Florals? For Spring? Groundbreaking." BUT to keep things interesting, I’ll also leave you with a snippet of Emerson’s Hamatraya. One particular line is pulled out of context and printed on many a mass-produced garden sign, while the rest of the poem is, in fact, quite dark. I recommend you read the entire thing!
“..Where are these men? Asleep beneath their grounds:
And strangers, fond as they, their furrows plough.
Earth laughs in flowers, to see her boastful boys
Earth-proud, proud of the earth which is not theirs;
Who steer the plough, but cannot steer their feet
Clear of the grave..”
What is meant by an iron will?
Maybe a thing forged anew each morning
Broken by sundown?
Pieces scattered waiting
Till light and warmth readies them for another breaking.
“..to slip again over my faculties the viewless fetters of an uniform and too still existence..”
-Charlotte Brontë
One of those gloriously messy weekday mornings where we managed to get out the door early, good attitudes still in tact. I also had the wherewithal to grab my camera, given the conditions seemed conducive to drama over the lake. It’s a beautiful thing when plans work, and we get a nice little break from perpetual adaptation.
Things taking time
to be what they will,
Ideas forming along
state change lines.
Does this death feel more illusionary
Since feeling and love and promise
spring forth from what’s left of it?
"Dear Wheeler: you provide the prose poems. I'll provide the war."
Recently watched a film I’ve needed to see for decades. Citizen Kane, which, for what it lacked in story, made up for in technical prowess and visual intrigue. Many an art student has gone bananas over this movie, and I do see why. It’s an inspiring piece of work, one that I felt compelled to make something from, hence this fun, quick full focus composite image.
Sometimes an image captures a feeling so much better than anything I could write. Today is one of those times. All the best this week, friends!
Despite reactionary rage, fully-coated anger,
a full inflicted fit of self importance, willingness to reck and ruin,
destruction for the promise of successful conquest,
Softness plays the long game.
Long after the most bitter of battles,
sometimes Softness wins.
Hopes on humanity, nature, and our place in this world we continue to influence.
Morning came on. A symphony.
Nothing, then notions, the faintest hint of sound,
and before we realized it,
a song forte
played for all who were awake to hear and see.