in motion

 

Dear Passengers,

I take a lot of these blurry photos out of the car- there are reflections of the inside, and smeary roads, bright halos, all kinds of un-photogenic artifacts.  I get a real thrill taking crappy photos, because, well, you know, I was kind of raised by a pack of shutterbug snobs, and boy! did those folks hate an an out of focus shot!  Whooee!  Like it was a cardinal sin.  I don't usually send you any of them, because it is hard to step out of the known and into the 'that isn't any good.'  By the known here, I mean the tenets of 'good' photography these vociferous wolves raised me to believe in, and by 'isn't any good' I mean all of, everything in the world that ever was or could be that doesn't fit into the tenets.  It's a lot, come to think of it, all the pictures with the heads cut off, the ones with crooked horizons, the poorly exposed, the low contrasted, the out of focused.  Maybe this is something you want to address yourself, all the dogma of what is good in photography.  Maybe you want to grab that camera and take a snapshot of your feet, or a picture of a tree while you wave your camera.  It might feel good to you, too.

Hightail House

 

the heat

 

Tropical Tidbits.

Dear Unseasonably Warm,

In time, we won't use 'unseasonable' as a qualifier for the weather- right now, we can say something like this:  "In a warming climate, what we think of as summer weather will extend well into November, and it will begin earlier, as well; making for nine months of summer temperatures."  Phooey on that, it is too soft for me on this roasting afternoon:  "During these early years of the human caused climate catastrophe, we will have to endure much hotter days, and a hell of a lot more of them, than we used to."  

With the facts in mind, and with intention to adapt, mourn, and witness the disruption of these patterns, check out Weather West- especially the very interesting Office Hours live on YouTube.  Also, please have this, your song for today, The Rosarita Beach Café.

voice & notice

 

Buzzard, from Dog Ear series, Erica Baum, 2016.

Dear Reader,

Why, or how, are there voices in written words?  I was reading an article, and I recognized the voice, or maybe style?  It's not the one I hear in my head, it's not just the sound of my own lips moving.  I was taught to read silently, and not to move my head across the page- why the fuck, anyway, I wonder?

I am moving my lips like mad these days, and yes, I am pretty sure it is The Texbook Indication of The Right On Time Signs Of Dementia*, but what matters now is that I even catch myself making sounds- I have been a talk to myselfer for as long as I can remember... and when my brain talks to me, it says things like:  get a horse.

So, what gives a series of words, a sentence, a particular voice?  And another thing, I know you don't need me to tell you what the genius of a song is; I know you have noticed it too; so why tell you?  I guess because the verb to notice, the word notice as verb is a kind of affirmation;  I sometimes worry I won't get it all noticed in time.  In time, you know, to die.  It's a kind of weird and personal form of reverence, but for me, just noting it isn't as good as writing it, too, and what about the voice of that written noticing?  I wonder.

*  The Signs of Dementia is a pretty good band name!  "SoD" printed on the bass drum!