I’m thinking about you.
In the black of night the warmth if my bed the sheets are heavy on me the cat motions and I can feel her shape in the negative space.
It’s raining the sound in a lovely veil of peuter velvet in an indigo night, like a dull shuffle of unhappy guests applauding on the wet, spirited crackles break the white-noise of rain on suburban roofs.
I’m thinking of you.
I’m thinking of you and I should be asleep because tomorrow I have to be formal for the most important piece of importance ever. The rest is all bullshit.
I’m thinking of you because you are making more sense to me now, more then anyone has done in a long time.
I’m thinking of you because I want you to stay for a meal that will go on a time indulgent exploration of courses in adventure and revelation.
Your existence just woke me up I’m aware of the now, and the owner wants to prop you up in his car and drive you away in an ill fitting garment in-leu of a costume for a play that folds you into the crevasses of something that they want you to be.
I’m thinking about you.
At 8.10pm October 26th I will be terminating the existence of my 39th year of life. And strangely enough the 6th birthday of this blog (which was originally stated at blogger and ported over here.
Anyway donations can be made via the email button. I need an addition $4000 for my trip to India and subsequent book.
its amazing to me anyway, what your subconscious tells you. I kept telling myself for the last two years that I needed a new pair of sunglasses for my trip to india after the coating scratch debacle in the back seat of my friends car as I was trying to take pictures of the downtown heart of Seattle as we were whizzing by on the soon to be vanished ‘viaduct’. I had lost the rubber eyepiece from my Fuji 546 camera and the screw threads are pretty sharp, and between all those little b-bump’s on the viaduct i managed to scratch odd a healthy portion of the lens coating on my decade old Bolle coachwhip’s..
Anyway, Id convinced myself that I needed new sunnies for the trip and that it was time to buy only the best that I could afford, so I did a chunk of research on what good was and was convinced that the terminator style Oakley Batwolf’s were what I needed -fuck knows why I thought that these would be the best thing since sliced bread because i tried them on in a handful of stores and then poached a pair at a great price on eBay and as soon as I got them I whipped out the hot knife and branded some holes in the arms to attach the requisite shock-cord bungee, and I did it before id even worn the things out for a full day. Well after about 4 days i realized they were just never actually designed to stay on a normal human head, they are designed for cops and pin heads with long noses and axe shaped faces or faces that have been shaped with the help of an axe whichever.. or frat boys who wear them on their fat heads and dont actually put them over their eyes.
So then my REI shit-yerself-in-side-out annual discount came up and Id some money on my account anyway for whatever reason so i tested and played with a heap of styles and settled on a really comfortable pair of whatevers that were so insanely comfortable that I just dont know what baby. until I got up on my bike and they became buckets for sweat, and it really pissed me off. So I tried them off my bike and they were fine but then the summer came and the sweat came back and that killed them for India because well india is supposed to be warm over there like.. So I returned them and bought something else more pertinent to surviving a non zomby apokalips.
In a screaming cold sweat drenched wake up about something else entirely I couldn’t get back to sleep and amongst a few other things which Im sure will become their own uninteresting blog entries, I remembered that I was in fact a relatively smart 31yo when I came to the conclusion in that Nelson based backpacker oriented shop in New Zealand after leaving that really cool pair of sunnies Id had for almost 14 years, the ones with the crack in the right lens. They were so cool and they were high end knock offs of Terminator/Velvet Underground style Balorama’s,. in some cranky arsed paedo’ farmers house in Nelson after having missed my bus in Wellington. I remember that dirty old wanker came into the filthy room he provided in the middle of the night with his hands extended wearing gray track pants and a navy wool sweater and a large bratwurst down one leg of the trackies stinking of booze and thinking he could have his way with the alter boy fairy (me) who came to stay in his smelly old dirty lime colored walled, orange sheeted bed which was concave from abuse.. disgusting.
Where was I? Oh yes sunnies.. so in a moment of clarity I went looking on ebay for the same old pair of Coachewhip’s which had served me so well all these years only to find they aren’t made any more and the only ones I could get are used. Hopefully the lenses are Ok.
I had the fortune to shoot some pictures of sculptor Scott Fife in his studio which was a reassuringly positive experience for me to step back into an artists studio again and be surrounded by that energy. I had a nice warm feeling of reassurance, this was just from the studio itself.
Listening to Scott talk and asking him a mix of metaphorical questions and technical questions was again another layer added to that bed of reassurance. To hear the thoughts of someone who has established himself and the methodology by which that establishment occurred, and realizing that we dont really have much control of where we go or how we get there but listening to him talk about the wild horse that uncertainty is and his calm experiential retrospective sentiment was very reassuring. I will have some pictures from the day.