Current Music: Life in Slow Motion by David Gray
Smells: Odorless but I will be making coffee soon.
Temperature: 85 degrees w/ thunderstorms
Thoughts: I lost a pair of pants in my own home?????
If I had the power to clone, I would clone my 2 ½ year old daughter and keep a cloned version of her with me at all times. Two and half is the age of angels, just old enough to talk but not old enough to ask questions that I can’t answer. Old enough to enjoy running around all day and still young enough to go to bed early. At 2 ½ the biggest horror in her life is that we run out of bananas and the greatest joy is hugging her Daddy. That’s me…Daddy. I am sure hugging mommy is also of great joy but mommy is not writing this so I get to be the greatest joy of my daughter’s life.
I see cloning as a win-win. My daughter, the non-cloned version, gets to grow up and have a fulfilling life packed with all the glory and splendors that life has to offer. I get to keep a 2 ½ year old angel with me at all times for the rest of my life that is left on this planet.
Photography documents authenticate time. Human, by default, cannot see time. We experience instant after instant that when stitched together we call the ever-present moment of now. Time is an abstract perception, a judgment of how we relate split seconds of now. The above photograph is 15 seconds of time. It’s impossible for a human to have the understanding, the physical and visual experiences of what this photograph is showing. The human eye, by construction, is ever-changing to fit the environment. The camera has an omnipresent eye. Photographs may be the only way to understand a poetic version of how God may see the universal present moment of now.
If a day goes by that I do not meditate or write down my thoughts, I can feel the difference. Comparable to a day that you choose to skip hygiene, you just feel it. You may not have odor or look unkempt, but the feeling of “not doing” stays with you.
Meditating and journaling do not make you a better person. No more than showering makes you acceptable in public. But they are real to me. Time spent writing and time spent sitting on a mat are as real to me as hygiene, food preparation, household cleaning, walking and love.
In life first we strive to achieve, then we struggle to deconstruct to the simple. Through meditation and journaling I am awake, aware and conscious of this process.
- Obscure portraits (see this)
- Pittsburgh at sunrise
- Motion & stillness (see this)
- Abandonment architecture
My gut is pushing me towards the abandonment subject matter. Pittsburgh is a town that is half a ghost town and half a town of resurrection.
The previous works have been "City Night" photography and "Ambient Art" photography, both topics I could easily stay with. My ambient portfolio is not completed as of yet. I still have the autumn season to document. Further, I have enjoyed the idea of removing the subject from a photo (the storytelling aspect) and leaving the viewer to have more of a visual experience when considering the work (see this). Photographing rock images has also been calling me but I feel it would be too similar to the ambient.
What’s your pick?
One of the various tribulations I have when writing is that I do my finest, creative, and most philosophical stuff, “the brilliant work”, when I am nowhere near a pen or a computer. What you are currently reading is not my best work. Sorry about that. My best work is done while driving, daydreaming, falling asleep and during conversations. I am a terrible person to have a conversation with. Ninety seven percent of the time I am not listening to you. Why? Am I just that bad-mannered? Maybe…. Most likely it’s because you are asking me for advice that I know you will never utilize.
People are always asking me for my thoughts, opinions on “stuff & it”. “What should I do”, or, “what would you do”. Questions are always being posed to me. In all actuality, I have no idea why people are at all interested in my words. The fact is that I only have three answers to all questions:
Answer One: It will take effort on your part
Answer Two: Forgive him (yes, it’s always a him)
Answer Three: Shut up about it.
9) Smoking – The reason PGH will never be the next New York City is the love of all things smoking. Pittsburghers love to smoke. The city smoking ban has been rejected by a wheezing vote of 9 to 1. I do not smoke, don’t tell anyone….
8) Distinct suburbs – We love our little colonized home town. You can find the relocated European landscape surrounding PGH. There is Polish Hill, The Italian Strip District, Slovakian Alley and Mexican War Streets.
7) Girls with back tattoos – Not sure how this caught on but for some reason women of all ages love to get tattooed on the upper back, right shoulder. Very nice on prom night, wedding day and after the women gains 30 lbs.
6) Everything from the 80’s (hair, music, fashion) – This may irritate some ‘Burghers but it’s true, Pittsburgh culture stopped dead in its tracks in 1985. You can place blame on the movies The Breakfast Club, Ghostbusters, and Sixteen Candles.
5) Moving out of PGH and then relocating back to the ‘burgh – “Every time I think I’m out they pull me back in.” That phrase originated in Pittsburgh, ask my cousins Joey, Stevey, Pauly, Carmen and Stan. It is physically impossible to move away from Pittsburgh for any time longer than 3 years. Never been done, never.
4) The love of Bruce Springsteen and Bon Jovi – All Pittsburghers think that the 3 rivers of Pittsburgh is the New Jersey shore. If it was not for hating Cleveland, Pittsburghers would not even know that there is a west side to our country. In Pittsburgh, everything points east to the songsmiths from the Jersey shores.
3) Being in the cult of “Pittsburgh Steelers Fan” – Enough said
2) Pittsburghese, the unofficial language of Pittsburgh. It’s better than an English accent and chicks dig it.
1) PITTSBURGH, we love this place
Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 0.017 sec (1/60)
Focal Length: 135 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV
This wrong turn brings me to a small local shopping district that is on the cusp of rebirth. The business district is filled with Mom & Pop stores that were previously flooded out a couple of years ago. This quarter mile strip of local economy includes laundry-mat, hardware store, Italian restaurants, Mexican restaurants, couple of dive bars, one yoga studio and a county nicknack store (all things wood, all thing useless), hair salon named “cut and stuff” with and engraved wood plaque hanging at the store front presumably bought at the county nicknack store.
I sit at a stop sign at the end of this strip and giggle that I have just accidentally happened upon Mayberry RFD in this small town in Pittsburgh PA. The company my sister works for is based out of Mayberry RFD, it actually survived without the need of Andy Griffith. If Mayberry RFD and Andy Griffith mean nothing to you, keep it to yourself, whippersnapper.
Everything that happens next happens within a 45 second time frame.
Sitting at the stop sign directly to my right an old man pulls his two-ton truck right out in front of me nearly sideswiping my car. Old man drives away giving me the finger. I was hopping that he was flashing me the peace sign but he wasn’t. I sit at the stop sign. Approximately 15 seconds into this story, I’m still sitting at the stop sign, barely avoiding an accident and succumbing to full fledged anger that an old man flipping you off can cause.
Next, before proceeding forward I noticed to my left a pedestrian at the cross walk. Being the active citizen that I am I politely wave my hand out the window to let the pedestrian know that it’s ok to walk across the street. At this point, mind you, I’m still at the stop sign and still not moving. The pedestrian starts yelling at me to stop holding up traffic, he actually used an expletive. It hurt more than the middle finger. Looking in my rearview mirror there is nobody behind me. I press my foot to the accelerator.
I move about two car lengths forward to be stopped by an old lady riding a ten-speed bike, while talking on her cell phone steering her self blindly into the front of my car.
What makes this story even better, and the proof that I really do create my own reality, is the description of what the lady on the bike looks likes.
Sixty years old, at least, maybe 100 lbs, completely skin and bones, with the skin of a lady who probably started smoking while still in the womb. She is wearing teeny-tiny shorts with an oversized tank top with no bra and she was cold (EEEWWWW). Large style Jackie-O sunglasses, bright green frames and dusty gray lenses perched on her lower nose. Upon her head sat a thick blonde wig presumably taken from the dumpsters out back of Woolworth’s retail store back in 1978.
She hits my car but does not fall off the bike. She wobbles left, right, left again, regains her balance (quite impressively) then goes around my car. At no time did she stop having a cell phone conversation nor did she ever look up at me.
I love my reality…believe me…
It looks like a three way tie for first place
Christianity is the second of the Abrahamic faiths; it follows Judaism and is followed by Islam. It differs in its belief of Jesus, as not a prophet nor historical figure, but as God in human form. The Holy Trinity is the concept that God takes three forms: the Father, the Son (Jesus), and the Holy Ghost (sometimes called Holy Spirit). Jesus taught the idea of instead of seeking revenge, one should love his or her neighbors and enemies. Christians believe that Jesus died on the cross to save humankind and forgive people's sins.
Essentially I am not a writer yet. When I get to pay taxes from the income earned from writing, I become a writer. Until that point I am just a person who writes. That coveted “er” of “writer” won’t elude me for long. I have been lucky enough to be a professional guitar play“er” and a professional photograph“er”, but as of yet Uncle Sam has collected no money from my written words. The two things you need to be a true working professional is your mother’s blessing and a W-2 form filed properly by April 15 every year.
So I get to be a writer, of sorts, so they tell me (forgive the un-taxed use of the “er”). This seems about right for the next move in my life. I have played a bunch of music, photographed a lot of people and had crazy amounts of life experiences. Basically, I have a lot of stuff to write about. Now, it’s time to sit down and write about all this “stuff” and earn a living off of “it”.
Creative Non-Fiction writing about “stuff & it”. I should be fine in the world of publishing.
“In February and March of 1974, science fiction author Philip K. Dick experienced a series of visions and other inexplicable perceptual and cognitive phenomena. For the rest of his life, Dick explored the philosophical implications and hypothesized about the origins of the experience, in a journal which eventually ran to hundreds of thousands of words. This work became known as the Exegesis”.
Serendipity or Deep Down the Rabbit Hole?
This is the story of how the sun went away, as it was told to me:
After forty days of rain an arc, captioned by a man called Noah, sailed by our door front calling for our dog to get on board. Our dog, being spiritually advanced, was called by Noah to help re-populate Pittsburgh. The dog refused to get on the arc, wishing to stay with its owners. The dog sent the house cat in his place. The cat, not spiritually advanced, angered Noah to a great extent. Noah cursed the city to gray, damp, cloudy skies for all eternity only to see the sun in a blinding haze every 120 days during morning rush hour causing great delays in the morning commute.
That the story of why the sun went away in Pittsburgh, nobody is quite sure what happen to Seattle?