Sure looks like a line in the sand to me. But say howdy to the nice folks.
A chronicle of an absentminded stroll, a pre-emptive waltz through my own torpor. Sort of like tracking the extinct through oblivion.
Note the looping circles.
My yearly spring alder picture. Started hauling around the big 4lb xenar again. Something about wide open antique glass and spring light. I’ve been distant, dark and pin-holeish all winter, using small, dim and sphincter-like f16 lenses, so by comparison this was almost like stapling my eyelids to the top of my head.
Fleshing out a new portfolio. Most have been folded into this blog as an satellite of this series. The working theme is roadwork, a sort of non-denominational scenery that attempts to be neither escapist or utilitarian. It mainly started from a need to bodycheck my more purple, illustrative work, but sadly nothing much can escape my need to go over the top..:P
Awkward to emerge from under the darkcloth and find a patient few waiting to use the trail. I know I talk to myself but when surprised by company I can never remember exactly what I was saying. The expression of the crowd sometimes gives a few… hints. Suffice to say profanity fairly assures a largish elderly crowd.
It’s true that I often post a picture just to have an excuse to blather on about something, but this week I’m sensing a trend towards mutual irrelevance. Fact is I’m trying to keep a few things in suspension. Not sure if the effect is due to a sense of being watched, but after 2+ years of blogging, there must be someone out there with an embarrassed expression.
Random thoughts of the last few seconds
I hope a hurricane doesn’t come through the BP spill
I’d like more coffee in less cup…but how?
Don’t spare the bottleneck in that RL Burnside remix
hmmm…this didn’t suck this much yesterday
Paltry descending spiral, life. As I near utter desensitization, the landmarks continue to whiz by but interest gets no closer.. There’s a sort of implied dead reckoning as anticipation of interest..any interest..keeps missing in all dimensions of duration, scope, and reference. The errors compound as the next fix sails by, but logic refuses to sign on, and there’s no snapping out of the building inertia of it.
I’m a morose moron of late. Did I hit my head? Often? Maybe it’s just middle age, but I’m seeking comfort instead of inspiration. Visual comfort food, soft angles and light. Even the printing processes I’m working with lately favor bright child-like colors applied with simple tools. The craft of it is reassuring in times of lean creativity. It’s little wonder children and lunatics are amused with crafts, the purpose is soothing, and ravings or destructive energies are distracted for a breath-catching moment. Still, in the end it’s just more unsupervised half-assery with lots of paper towels, and enthusiasm seems to dry and harden in step with the materials, and there are half-finished thoughts everywhere.
The landscape seems sympathetic, this little gathering of stumps, a landscape of truncated notions.
There is a trend towards over-pruning here- the vegetation tends to grow at such an alarming rate that it can easily overwhelm the infrastructure if left unchecked. Generally the alder and blackberry is targeted most, but it’s difficult to pick and choose with a 5′ square articulating deck Flail-Master mulcher.
3 13s this week, stoopid tired but hey Saturday is here 2 days early. I’ve been gearing up to migrate to win7 and listening to Jack Teagarden and Louis Armstrong, which sort of stuns technology-induced anxiety by giving it a reference outside of itself. But even after two pots of coffee I’m no closer to actually doing it.