The Original Whatever

What follows is a brief zygote of an idea. Once a week I will be posting snap shots of my current writing project. All post will be titled “The Original Whatever”.


So I get to be a writer, of sorts, so they tell me, pending government approval of my tax status. This will make a lot of people pretty damn cynical and mad about the current state of writing in this country. Let me give you a list of reasons why I should not be a writer.

1. I am a terrible speller; even with the use of spellchecker I am still dreadfully bad at spelling. A fear of mine is that I actually write a book that people buy and I have to go to book signings and the public discovers that I cannot spell anyone’s name correctly when autographing their copy of my book.

2. “There”, “their” and that third spelling of “they’re” all mean the same thing to me. I toss “their”, “there” and “they’re” anywhere and hope for the best.

3. The use of commas, apostrophes and remembering to add “s” on to the end of plural words remain a mystery to me. Thank goodness for my Editor-at-Large, Elizabeth (my wife who can spell magnificently and totally gets the “their”, there”, “they’re” thing.)

4. My friends who actually want to be writers, who have degrees in writing, who have a trilogy of already completed novels, edited and saved on their computers, will be furious with me that I got published before them. (p.s. these friends are way better at spellchecker and grammar pro combined.) I am always calling them and asking “how do you spell that” and “what’s that wavy ~ symbol used for again”) Yep they will want to kick my ass and I will not even use my superhero powers of Creative Non-Fiction Man to protect myself. I deserved it.

Friday Morning

Fell asleep to a thunder and lighting storm awoke to blanket fog outside my bed room window. Started working on a new project, if my ego lets me, hopefully, I will share the zygote of an idea with you early next week.

Moment

Current Reading: The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid by Bill Bryson
Current Music: In Time by R.E.M.
Mood: Drained
Smells: Apples
Sounds: Crunching of an apple
Temperature: 83 degrees
Thoughts: Creative non-fiction is a writing genre not an oxymoron.

Photo(s) of the Week

Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 0.017 sec (1/60)
Aperture: f/4.5
Focal Length: 62 mm
ISO Speed: 400
Exposure Bias: 0 EV

Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 20 sec (20)
Aperture: f/29
Focal Length: 70 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV

Chasing a Rainbow for Joe Perez

This story may seem a little odd, but it’s a true story.  Well, actually it’s an event that reads like a story.  I chased down a rainbow last night for Joe Perez. Let me start out with some background on the how and the why I became involved in chasing a rainbow for Perez.

Perez is a write/blogger based out Seattle, WA.  Don’t you just love using phrases such as “based out of” instead of simply saying, “lives in”.  I do.  It makes my inner journalist smile. I have not yet met Joe but I have shared a couple of e-mail exchanges, one phone conversation, co-authored a short lived blog with him, and read his book. I feel confident in saying if I lived in Seattle, or better yet, if I were based out of Seattle, Perez and I would be friends.  With that being said, from this point forward I will be referring to Perez, as Joey. Why? Because I like adding a “y” to the end of all my friends’ first names whenever possible.  You cannot say names like Joey, Jenny, Mickey, and Glenney without smiling.

Back to why I was chasing a rainbow last night for my friend Joey. On Joey’s blog he uses an old rainbow photo of mine whenever he writes about gay rights and gay related issues.  I love the idea (and am thankful) that he has chosen one of my photos to symbolize a reoccurring theme in his work.  Here is the problem; I do not like the photograph that I took.  It’s a diffused, bland, grayish shot taken quickly before dusk set in.  I did not properly set up the shot; I did not use a tri-pod and did not even have the camera set to the correct adjustment. It is a snapshot, not a photograph.

That’s the back story, this is the how the event unfolded.

Let me paint you a picture of the rainbow I was chasing for Joey. This multicolored arc in the sky combined all seven colors of rainbows from bright red at the top to the beautiful violet beam closest to earth.  All shafts of light with the bright, vivid colors of a crayon box. From left to right this rainbow gently kissed the horizon.  Directly above this rainbow sat a second rainbow softly muted with hues of fading light. That was a majestic moment of the splendor and glory of our landscape. Come on, when do you get the chance to see a rainbow sitting  atop of a second rainbow.  Wow.  

As for me, I got to enjoy all these magnificent images sent from heaven above while driving along a six lane interstate highway doing 75mph at the end of rush hour.  It was right at the point when driving goes from sitting in traffic (the-non-rush-hr) to “get out of my bleeping way”, when the interstate becomes a NASCAR track.

I moved into survival mode, staying alive, taking pleasure in all the splendor of the rainbow and did not kill anybody, especially myself. Here I am, 75 mph, staring out my driver’s side window, listening to R.E.M. tremendously too loud on the stereo and thinking about Joey and how I would like to update that photo. Did I mention, no camera on board, damn, damn, damn…?

I call my wife, who is in the middle of editing a large photo project herself and I ask her to run outside and snap off a couple of shots. 75mph, staring out my driver’s side window, listening to R.E.M. tremendously too loud and now I am on my cell phone, what could go wrong?  My wife gets back on the phone, “no rainbow in the sky, sorry” damn, damn, damn…

What next? Have to pick up my daughter at the Grandparents damn, damn, damn…  I have no camera, my wife does not have a shot and I am running out of time and light. I feel like I am chasing a rainbow in a ghost town.  Nobody is ever going to believe the perfection of this rainbow. 

That’s the end of my story. I never got the shot for Joey and I will have to live with the photo that he is using.  I never caught the rainbow, only chased it.  Anyway what would I do with a pot of gold?

Hey did I tell you about the leprechaun?

Bio

1969: Life began and men landed on the moon.

69-72: Cradle years, no memories but I am desperately afraid of bars to this day.

1977: Second grade: First music teacher, drum lesson, he always called us girls. Never forgot his teaching.

1982: Seventh grade: Picked up the guitar and got good at sports (finally), well not very good just not embarrassingly bad.

1984: Ninth grade: First band called “The Blast”, and it was. Grew hair, made parents proud.

1987: Graduated High School, my parents proved the power of prayer.

1988: Went to college – Communication major – Literature, philosophy and photography came alive to me.

1989: Met Jesus and said “hi”, read a lot of Nietzsche.

1991: Understood Nietzsche, some of it. Had “The College Bar-Band”, wrote really bad poetry and song lyrics, great period of my life but not even close to the best period.

1992: Hello real world. That costs how much????

1993: Met Buddha, asked him “where did you get those sandals”, he responded “walk right down that middle path over there”.

1994 – 2000: Took a lot of photos, traveled the country and survived Y2K of pending death.

1996: Was given a dog as a gift, Kiani (a.k.a. –the K-man), the best spiritual teacher ever. Walked into the woods, discovered God. Actually the K-man introduced us.

2001: Put out first CD with Sarah Wilkins. Played a lot of coffee houses, churches and festivals, discovered that red wine and coffee are my drugs of choice.

2002: Introduced to Elizabeth, breathed air for the very first time.

2003: Put out first and only instrumental CD.

2004: Married Elizabeth, proving the power of prayer to myself.

2005: Craig Photography became a husband and wife team, best lifestyle, economical, decision ever. “E” and I rock as a team. Went to Italy, brought back a bean.

2006: Elizabeth gave birth to the “Bean”, we call her Ella. The “E –Team came alive.

07-Present: Smile all the time, best period of my life so far……

Moleskinerie

Typically, I am not one for submitting my work, but I did (here) and they published it.

Diary

Tuesday up at 5:59am, coffee, shower, more coffee, yoga, meditation, the morning routine. Prepared rice with mushrooms, sautéed vegetables for lunch, tossed in dried seaweed and pecorino romano grated cheese. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich on homemade bread for breakfast. PB&J never disappoints, have you noticed that? All other sandwiches can disappoint; too dry, too many condiments, soggy vegetables, what-not.

Finished Wade Davis’ book on Indigenous cultures. I cannot wait to read more of his writing. All too often when I find an author or book that I love I immediately read a second book of the same author. Then I spend all my time reading that second book thinking that I am not enjoying it as much as the first. This time I am going to place a couple of short novels between my Wade Davis reading. A novel by Murakami, this will make my fourth or fifth novel by him followed up with “The Great Gatsby” by Fitzgerald. Then I will immerse myself back into the writing of Davis.

8 a.m., traffic, morning radio, chilly sixty degrees outside. I am completely impartial to my surroundings. Hypnotic driving – not very safe, nonetheless a made it to my destination without hurting anyone.

Photo of the Week

Camera: Nikon D70s
Exposure: 30 sec
Aperture: f/22
Focal Length: 24 mm
ISO Speed: 200
Exposure Bias: 0 EV

The Culture of my Youth

As a young boy I grew up in a small town that had its own spirit and culture. The town was a blend of old-world traditions mixed with the current happenings of present society. This memory, barely twenty years old for me, now feels more like an indigenous culture in a world that has gone away.

My friends were either one hundred percent Italian or one hundred percent Irish. I was a 50/50 split, mutt blend of sorts. I would grow up to like beer with my spaghetti. I yearned for my last name to end with a vowel or to have the double constant of “cC” at the start of my last name. For me, my last name was stuck with five non-repeating letters with the vowels placed properly in the middle.

The ethnicity of our parents meant the customs of the old-world, “the mother land” as I would jokingly refer to it. Church, spaghetti dinners, team sports and yard work were the fundamentals of life. We were all Catholic with a large “C”. We listened to Springsteen, watched the Steelers and drank iced tea out of the cardboard box container, three for 97 cents from the corner store. This is when having a local economy and local store were a convenience of life. The 20 minute drive out of town to the Mall or the store was a waste of a good afternoon that could be better spent playing ball down at the field. The field was what we called the park that we would meet at everyday, I’m sure this field had a proper name but I never new it.

The seasons were marked by the change in the sports we played rather than the weather or the color of the leaves on the trees. Winter – football, spring – baseball, summer – basketball, autumn - more basketball and wiffle ball that was played on the basketball court after they took down the nets for the season. I never got good at basketball even though I have played more pick up games than most NBA players would dream of. I always thought if I ever wrote a book about my life I would title it, “Because I couldn’t make a jump shot”. Nonetheless poor basketball skills fueled my motivation for practicing guitar.

Sundays were blocked off for family dinners, watching football and sitting on the sofa. This was my town’s version of keeping the Sabbath. Commandments four and five were taken very seriously, sort of. Being of the large “C” Catholics that we were, keeping the remaining eight commandments were easy, no stealing, no murdering, no coveting all seems pretty simple not to break. Nobody was quite sure what “bearing false witness against your neighbor” was, so that one didn’t count if we broke it. Number three, not taking the Lord’s name in vain, was only a problem for the parents.

Grandparents lived within walking distance. Mine lived next door; great for getting an extra dish of late night ice cream, bad for sneaking girls into your house when your parents went away.

We were the sons of blue-collar fathers. We fixed our own cars, borrowed tools from our neighbors and mended fences. Truth be told, I never actually mended a fence but I am sure I painted one or two in my time. “Work with your back or work with your mind”, “bring the work to you instead of you going to the work”. That is what my Father ritually recited to me when working. Metaphors that turned out to be great advice for working in photography, blending your hands and mind worked out to be the perfect fit for me.

It is said that culture is watching the world construct itself before it goes, a gift from our imagination. My culture planted seeds.

Brief Moment

Current Reading: Light at the Edge of the World by Wade Davis
Current Viewing: The Worldwide web of belief and ritual by Wade Davis

Moment

Current Reading: The Post-American World by Fareed Zakaria
Current Music: The Scent of Light by Ottmar Liebert
Mood: Good
Sounds: Laughter
Smells: Coffee and tomatoes
Temperature: 80 degrees
Thoughts: Live your life well by living your life well, find passion.

The Best Photographer I Know

My compositional approach to photography (or all creative skills) is to keep one foot rooted in the ancient and one foot planted in the future.

The best photographer I know does not work in the photography industry. He works in construction. He walked away from the trade when a photograph became a lie. The idea of after capture manipulation combined with the layering use of Photoshop killed the art form for him.

Even though he has been out of the industry for well over a decade, he is still the most knowledgeable person I know when it comes to photography. Often when I am troubleshooting a workflow problem he will give me a back-to-basic (back to camera) answer. His comprehension is rooted in the classic approach to capturing an image. Light first, your time second.

He no longer owns a camera or reads current photography publications, nonetheless the depth and span of his craft is well intact.

I have found time and time again the best at their craft do not work in the industry.

When I was playing music on a professional level, countless times I would share the stage with much more established and popular performers. Frequently I found their talents to be superior in marketing than in musicianship. For myself, on numerous occasions, I would meet an older gentleman after a show that looks like he had never even seen a guitar, then watch as he picked up my guitar and listened as he schooled me on what true musicianship is.

Previously I have written about “Natural Depth of Field” and posted a photo and asked the reader to guess how it was taken. The photo received hundreds of hits and only one guess??? Why is before capture thought becoming less and less of creative thought. I am stating a new series that I call “Mystery Gallery”. Photography done in camera, no Photoshop, no layers, no filters, no manipulation or enhancements at all…

Question to the working artist out there: What’s more important to you--the past or the future of your craft?

Recommendations

PODCAST: Tech Fatigue

Dan Allison, the POLYSEMY Multimedia Director, recently wrote a blog entry called “Feeling weary of the internet and technology in general“. This was cause for Dan and Matthew Dallman, our editor in chief, to discuss further issues raised in the piece, and in the course of the spontaneous discussion touch what we mean by technology, and how this relates to the creative process. This episode’s inquiry: Do we have a too-limited definition of “technology”?

Ambient Design (Therapy?)

Continuing with my year of all-things-ambient I discovered how important ambient is.

During my recovery from surgery, I was given a lesson on how significant my ambient surroundings are. After day five of laying in bed, my bedroom became a place of noise instead of a place of healing. The room has no feel, flow or vibe to it. It is the only room in the house that has not been designed around an ambient-minimalist theme. The room lacks purpose. In the rest of the home everything has a layout with an ambient design for function and flow.

To define the ambient-minimalist design would be to: First, think about the natural light then artificial light. Second, think about the color of the walls and the art displayed on the walls. Third, think about furniture that fits the space you placed it in. The last and most fundamental of ambient-minimalist design is if you see “it”, the “it” has a purpose.

Lying in bed I found myself daydreaming of these open spaces. Music, art, natural light, airflow, and plants all gave me feelings of calm. Having a home rooted with ambient principles aided my healing. I realize how a little time spent in those ambient spaces opened up my breathing (mentally & physically) along with my mind and heart.

Late Night Mosaic

Started a new project late last night...

The Modern Simplicity Movement

“In the U.S. economy the current mindset is everything you own, owns you.”

 I am a sucker for the idea of living off the grid.  Reducing my carbon footprint on the Earth sits well with my hope for the future. Herb garden, vegetable garden, a stockpile of whole grains and a good internet connection, a couple of pairs of sandals and I am off the grid and running carbon free (almost).

 The splendor and glory of not being tied down to life with a mortgage, utility bills and present mindset of society is a fantasy.  A dream worthy of having, if not possible of completely achieving, completely striving for it is a noble cause in itself and for future generations.

 In reality this vision is up there with my dream of climbing Mt. Everest. The idea of a simple lifestyle is only a dream for the already well-off.  I do not think that the citizens of Africa are trying to think of ways to get back to basic.  The important realization is that if you are one of the lucky ones thinking about “ the modern simplicity movement” then you have to embrace the blessed life that you have achieved (or been born into).  Being born on U.S. soil is the golden ticket no matter what your social economical outlook is.  The greater part of the globe is trying to sustain existence while America is trying to simplify life.

 The “we” of the “us” who are lucky enough to dream about the simplicity movement need to wake-up to the complex problems that is surrounding the world today.  What is needed is a culture creative (integral) outlook with progressive values that include all. Active citizens that take steps with a purpose in ethics, environment and economics will be the catalyst for future behavior.

 The simple answer to me about “ The Modern Simplicity Movement” is that (some) people are coming down from the mountaintop after seeing the view.  Consumerism is not meant for all. But why do only some come down from the mountaintop? Many stay at the mountaintop that are not able to maintain their economic existence. 

Arrival is a myth, but perfection is found in the process. 

Photo of the Week

Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 3.6 sec (18/5)
Aperture: f/22
Focal Length: 135 mm
ISO Speed: 100
Exposure Bias: 0 EV

Moment

Current Reading: Valis by Philip K. Dick

Current Music: ipod shuffle

Mood: Happy

Sounds: Very loud TV playing downstairs

Smells: Home made Italian sauces 

Temperature: 68 degrees light rain

Thoughts: This is the second time I started reading Valis.  First time I could not get into it, this time I can't put the book down. 

Be a poet of the Light

Be a poet of the Light

The emotion of the light – God’s light

Lights, color, patterns and textures do not wait on a photographer.  Pre-visualization is what is needed.  This ancient approach to composition demands a slower, contemplative approach.  Nature by it own nature is naturally messy, seek out a simple, mindful subject.   Open your mind’s-eye so wide that it will include your thoughts and wishes.  Notice the garden of light that surrounds you.

Be a poet of the light.  Walk in the garden, feel the waves, vibrations and energy that light created.  God formed the universe with light. A single verse of light that births all creation and evolution.  Photography is ancient.

Visual music. 

Notes from the Road to Recovery

No mediation or yoga for days now, body not as stiff as I thought it would become. Mind clearer than I would have guessed it to be.

Vicodin, moments of stillness, hearing my own breath, cravings for scotch, motion all around me, quiet in my head, piano music plays in the background.

Sunday 9am woken by a crying baby, headache, and day five of recovery from sinus surgery. Toast, eggs and coffee prepared by Elizabeth for me. Life for her must be trying, I always seem to be sick – I am sorry for that. My daughter sits on my lap and eats my eggs. I’m thankful for the time spent with her.

Children, life and time seem to be equations meant for failure. If you spend too much time with your child, then as a provider for your family you will fail. If you spend too much time away from your family providing from them than as a Father you will fail your child. Balance with self-expectation; no clue how to answer that?

Watched the “The Darjeeling Limited” today. Good existentialism film. Not much of beginning-middle-end plot line, nonetheless I enjoyed it. Been reading “Gardening at the Dragon’s Gate” by Wendy Johnson. It’s a lovely memoir on soil, composting, and Zen. I am reading about dirt and enjoying it, could be a sign of old age?

Left over pizza and apple slices for dinner. Want to go for a walk, should sleep.

Blog Book & Time Off

The idea of turning the archive of this blog into a book is something that I have been thinking about. (Here) you can download a table of contents with hyperlinks to postings. I have divided the subject into Art, Humor, Conscious Consumer Capitalism, Moment(s), Photo of the Week(s) & Personal. Read it all or just pick the titles that jump out at you… You will need to register (simple, painless & no spam or additional e-mails will be sent to you) to download the document.

“In Search of the Original Whatever” My greatest hits and misses from two years of blogging about Art, Morals and truths….

If the birth of this idea goes well the next step will be re-writing and adding some new un-published stuff and then off to the editors.

I am taking time off to clear the head (literally—having sinus surgery, and figuratively—to quiet the mind.)

See you June 2, be nice to each other and remember to eat your vegetables…

5 Question Interview Series with Katherine Turner

Katherine Turner is the author of Dating God, which is a blog that focuses on her journey throughout the cosmos. Her style of writing is configuring life-as-a-jigsaw-puzzle fitting it all together with dancing words. She has recently just completed her first novel, appropriately titled “Dating God”. Katherine graciously agreed to take part in my ongoing “5 Question Interview Series”.


Please tell me about your novel. Is it autobiographical in nature, fiction, spiritual or all of the above?

It's called Dating God of course :) I don't yet have a groove to offer up as a synopsis, so instead I give you some adjectives/images: psychic bartender meets hero cop; downwardly/inwardly mobile; high quality cigarettes and double cappuccinos; human love versus true love; sexual healing; urban dwelling versus ecovillage; holy moments in unlikely spaces; tequila; angels cleverly disguised as buttheads; the soulmate machinery; saving your own life.

It's fiction, and it's spiritual. It's also rowdy and funky. It's not autobiographical, but it contains things that I'm intimate with. For example, I tended bar in NYC and dated cops. I went through a rough patch understanding how to manage my psychic abilities. I was a hottie who got hit on a lot, and used it like ecstatic currency. I drank lots of tequila and coffee, smoked a lot of cigarettes. People that knew me from that time will recognize elements of reality, but the story is all in my head/heart.

Will your blog readers of the past 5 years (congratulations on that) get a sneak peak before publication?

I'm trying to figure out the best way to do this. My instincts say to offer it up to DG readers, let them read it before it goes anywhere. But this also makes me nervous (as you probably know from being a blogger yourself) as some blog readers have "orifice ripper" as their undeclared (and largely unconscious) but righteously pursued avocation. So, I'm more inclined to just send it to the few dozen folks who comment a lot and are warm-hearted and will be supportive, even if they pass on constructive criticism (which I hope they do). But who knows? Maybe I'll just toss the whole shebang wide open and let folks have at it :) (Most likely I'll open it up in ever-widening circles . . .)

What inspires you? How do you stay motivated?

I think I have a sort of "perspective" OCD that expresses itself verbally. I'll go through an experience or witness something, and I become obsessed with telling it in a way that captures the emotional light I saw it in. And it has to be done first person. I've tried other narratives and it loses its fire.

I remember someone telling me that you can't "want" to be a writer. You either write or you don't. I totally agree with that. I'm motivated to write like I'm motivated to eat. I love food and I eat to stay alive. I love words and I write to stay alive. This is not a metaphor.

I've been writing since I was seven or eight and have never stopped. I'm obsessed with words and concepts, heightened states of being and wild wooly metaphors, verbal symbols that stand for huge swaths of organic experience and the power of raw unflinching honesty. I love that I can take an experience, perspective, that lives inside of me, animates me, and with the right combo of words, transfer that experience into you. It's like making love. Telepathically :)


Your life seems to be a voyage that is perfectly expressed by blogging: Do we know the real you or do you keep a private life that is not told to your readers?

I think folks are always a little disappointed to meet me. I'm actually pretty quiet in person, withdrawn. I don't like to be seen. All of which is the exact opposite of what I'm like on the blog. Plus, I have a hard time with most folk's energy, and tend to be avoidant, which people tend to take personally :) I also think that it appears that I love to dwell on Problems, love to Vent and Be Vented Upon, when in fact this is my idea of Fiery, Burning Hell, Live and On Location. IRL, I prefer to just live and leave the gumflapping exchange for others to exercise. (Although I seem to have an almost bottomless well of listening for the handful of people I love, the people who I get truly love me.)

The only parts I withhold from the blog are info about other people that would hurt them or freak them out to see made public, and negative spew that would add to the Pointless Bullshit of the world. (although I have been very guilty of posting both)

How did writing a book that you knew would be read so closely by your blog audience compare with writing the blog?

I actually didn't write this book with anyone in mind. I just wrote it because it was burning a hole in my brain and heart. And I wrote the first draft 10 years ago, way before I even knew what a blog was.

The latest draft (that I finished last month) was actually written with a credo (written with a purple and green sharpie and scotch taped to the wall in front of my desk) that reads: "DatingGod: 1. Show Up 2. Write It From Now 3. Make Art, Tell Your Story". I had gotten so incredibly stuck that I knew that rewriting was pointless. I hated the book, knew it was shite, but felt powerless to fix it, even as I could feel this shining truth radiating out of it, haunting me and taunting me and telling me that it was going to f*ck my sh*t up for the rest of my life if I didn't get at it.

I finally grew the ovaries to do a shamanic journey around it, and I met with an editor in shamanic reality who told me how to finish the book. He was this sweet, funny man, and he told me that I needed to put myself in front of my computer, to have the courage to show up. And then I needed to stop trying to write from who I was, who I used to be ten years ago when that first draft was completed, and instead have the courage to write from where I am, who I am Now. It was outrageously scary. And like performing a million amputations. But incredibly liberating. The book actually turned into something that didn't make me feel like vomiting from embarrassment every time I thought of how many people I'd let read it over the past decade. (I still cringe. I'm cringing even right now :) And of course, now this latest draft makes me gag too, which means that it still needs another draft. And on and on and on . . .

I can't wait to finish it. I can't wait to let you read it :)

Ambient Mosaic

Guess what it is & how it was taken….. (Contest)

The winner will receive a custom print from my ambient collection…. All entries must be submitted by Thursday of this week by 9 pm EST. Please leave your guess in the comment selection, no e-mails will be accepted...

Photo of the Week

Camera: Nikon D200
Exposure: 0.667 sec (2/3)
Aperture: f/25
Focal Length: 62 mm
ISO Speed: 400
Exposure Bias: 0 EV

I had the very enjoyable opportunity to take some photos at Frank Lloyd Wright’s Fallingwaters estate this past Saturday. Edna the curator of the property gave us the behind the scene tour of the grounds. The un-excavated land along with the placement of the home was the most impressive part of the experience for me.

Due to copyright agreements this photo is not licensed with creative commons. Please enjoy the photo but do not distribute.

Moment

Current Reading: Dance, Dance, Dance by Haruki Murakami
Current Music: Seeds by Martin Sexton
Mood: Frustrated
Sounds: Road construction
Smells: Coffee
Temperature: 60 degrees and light rain
Thoughts: Using your faith to instill fear in people is an act of terrorism.

Journal

Have you ever noticed how un-strange it seems when an unfamiliar person sees that you are reading the same book that they just read? It‘s natural, no hesitation of approach, instead there is friendship, instead there is conversation. This is opposed to how foreign it feels when a stranger moves toward you for any other reason…they need directions, to know the time of day or whatnot. Observations are a fun part of life, no point needed.

I have been feeling disconnected from a couple of friends because of their dysfunction and my judgments. I will leave it to the psyche and shadow people to figure out if I am a walking contradiction or just no longer numb to the abusers that society surrounds me with.

Two o’clock in the afternoon, eating lunch outside and reading a book: rice and vegetables and keeping company with Dance, Dance, Dance by Murakami and enjoying both a lot. Pittsburgh weather has always been akin to late night TV to me, predictable but not enjoyable. The sun’s heat moves from bright and warming to cloud-covered skies with cold breezes all within the same sixty seconds. Sun glare to diffused vision all on the same page, odd reading experience. The wind is fragrant with late spring flowers at the end of their budding season. Three bees buzz by my left knee, they leave me alone, good. Tiny white flowers or leaves, not sure which, dance through the air and land in my lunch and on the page I’m reading. Sort of fun to watch, sort of.

Photo of the Week

Camera: Nikon D70s
Exposure: 2 sec (2)
Aperture: f/22
Focal Length: 34 mm
ISO Speed: 500
Exposure Bias: 0 EV

Over at Polysemy

Some good reading:
The Nature of Aesthetic Study

Feeling weary of the internet and technology in general