light

Alright, so a new piece of creative work every single day is HARD! Here is an image from a shoot that I am currently working on. I love the light on the face while it also lights up the reeds in the background.

So I shouted

So I shouted. 

And I shouted again, realizing that singing is a nothing if not a well-heeled cousin of shouting; a pleasant and expressive soul with a love of patterns and poetry. The first utterances sprang forth without specific meaning; a dance around melody and rhythm. The second utterances had pieces of words, the non-specific ideas inside words that help the young and the old understand; susurrus with color and emotion. The third and the fourth threatened to bring real meaning, but the fifth and seventh slid back toward a set of a-prioiri sounds not fully understood, but known by all. 

The chair, still empty, now had different music. 

Afternoon restless

My friend is not in our shared office,

but his music bounces & gyrates all over his empty chair.

I don’t know how to stop it.

Instead I turn the volume all the way down.

Through the open door onto the balcony—

listless weak tea sunlight.

I file my bills.

I answer emails.

If I suddenly shouted,

no one would mind.

Pre-samba dragonsketch

Pony in Madison Valley

September is here.  Hold your ground.  Eat your vegetables.  Let your hair fall in face.  Go to the Valley as often as you can. Call old friends.  Talk with your mouth full.

strange associations

I will not comment on you and yours, and would kindly ask a reciprocating behavior in return. Something akin to a fist pump that one might see in a sporting arena, or a lascivious pelvic thrust would be an appropriate choice. After all, your affairs are just that, your affairs, and if they can be  discretely kept for the small price of a friendly gesture, we all win, wouldn’t you agree? 

Some people would like to think that these things, when done in public, warrant unsolicited comment, but I believe advertising is the  key to good commentary. One must ensure that the appropriate markets are familiar with your moral quandaries when witnessing such behaviors.

Looking through the Barnacles

I love the textures in this image

Picture a day #1

California roll, before the roll

The Grand Canyon

The Grand Canyon

The riverbed loves the river. At the edge of the canyon it hits you hard, like a flat no after a month of praying to Our Mother of Guadeloupe for clarity.You've heard that no before, but this is more like a yes, but.

Yes, you can yell anything you want into this canyon.   You can ride a mule down to the bottom.  Kneeling, you can put your face into the Colorado River and say that name underwater.  Yes, you can write it down on a clean sheet of paper every day for 17 million years.

Yes, you can want whatever you want, but this is not your story.You are a visitor like the five thousand visitors who will come next year to see this story told and re-told in echo and erosion.  Red orange. Visible from space.

Disclaimer:  Hey reader.  This project of writing and posting something everyday is wonderful, but I"m feeling a little wobbly putting out some rough stuff. I went to the Grand Canyon recently and I've been trying to write about it since.  Mostly, I've been annoyed at my arrogance at trying to project my experience onto this natural wonder.  I know I'm not alone in guilt of this habit.  Without it we'd have never heard of Sun Gods and monsters who are brought into existence by the moon. The above is me trying to work around this arrogance by acknowledging it and writing something anyway. Yeah, it's rough, but I'm writing.

work in progress

Working on a sign for the lovely ducks in their new home. Figuring out the proper contrast between sunrise and duck is turning out to be a pain in the ... butt.