I wonder about making photographs of pretty things. Like a photograph of a model - is the image interesting? Does it tell a story? Will I ever want to see the image again? Is it something to hang over the couch and dust now and again? A recyclable calendar image?Read More
Dedicating space to my creative life is not easy. Mail, invoices, clipboards with nursery inventory threaten to jump from my desk to empty surface of the cabinet. Only my will keeps them in check. Well-meaning but oblivious co-inhabitants of my home may notice an empty space on the shelf or atop my cabinet and fill that space.Read More
I dropped off my photograph, and the woman at the desk said, “Congratulations.” Sad that I am surprised when a stranger says something nice.
After all these years, I finally went fishing. Jared had a father-son trip planned with another father and son. Jared came down with the cold that seems to be going around. I went in his place.Read More
On the way home from the car wash and other errands, I tuned into WPRB 103.3 and caught three songs from Hannah’s Hungarian Hour. Hungarian music is unmistakable, and I love it so.
I am sitting here, wondering what to write. It has been a week. I hardly had any photographs to look through. I couldn’t think of a song the put on. No song to jump start a memory or inspire. Then, I thought of Neil Young’s “Heart of Gold”. It’s kinda perfect. Don’t you want to jam along with Neil? I do.
Guess who was reheating Annie’s organic mac and cheese at 4:00 AM? That’s me. Because I have a sick kid who woke me up at about 3:00 AM because we couldn’t breathe through his nose because it was clogged with mucus. “Let’s go downstairs to the couch,” he suggested. We each put pillows under our arms and stumbled down the steps in the pitch darkness.Read More
The keyboard was intended for my brother-in-law, a scholar in literature of the distant past. He would have played lush classical pieces on the keys. Instead, The Fates sent this keyboard into my more humble and rough hands, from which I delivered it unto the Hell of instruments, The Attic. There, it remained, uncovered, wrapped only in its power supply cord, which Jared had purchased to save on batteries that otherwise powered this keyboard.Read More
Figure with Mile-a-minute, August 22, 2019
I fought with the Mile-a-minute growing on the edge of the field. I hopelessly chopped at it with the trimmer. The Stiltgrass is swallowing my friends. The jewelweed can help me, can help us all, so long as we eat more deer and plant more natives, and stop building houses, and stop being so numerous.