i like the idea of celebrating the dead instead of mourning for them. although, i, personally, don’t know how to do that since my grieving process isn’t that sophisticated. it seems in parts of Mexican culture, it is believed that death is not the final stage in one’s life but rather a step forward into a higher level of conscience. as i daily age a bit more and grind towards that inevitable, i’d like to think that higher level of consciousness awaits…and that there’s good tunes and some of the fine Mexican folks there have brought some homemade tortillas.
Can’t be what you outta be
Gotta be what you wanna be
Take it with pride and
Like a dragonfly
Dragonfly wants a piece of pie
But he is so strung out
Shake me off the knife because I want to go home
from Dragonfly Pie, Stephen Malkmus & the Jicks
i spent some time writing a eulogy for someone i cared about and it hurt in a way that is hard to describe. trying to explain a life and what that life meant to the ones who loved and cared for that person left me wondering about the explanation of my own existence. my life and what it means, if anything, to anybody that i love and care for. they assure me it does, this isn’t a pity rant but it does give me pause and it reminds me to do and be better, that time is limited and i’ve wasted far too much of it for far too long. so here’s a promise to me, for me and from me to create, care and constantly do things that might better this place we stand on for the one’s that mean something to me.
i bet being airborne as you die
is a weird sensation for the
MIND to process.
don’t they always say that you feel like your
SPIRIT is floating above your
if you are already floating and then your spirit is floating above
your suspended body there must be
some sort of SPIRITUAL chuckle as your
BRAIN processes the
DUALITY of it all.
this mish-mash of triple exposure was snapped about a week before the boy went to college. sounds weird, college, this boy. the other boy already out of college and doing growed-up work but this boy, the baby boy at college…so yeah, here’s 3 clicks before that.
parking lot waiting
i’m really good at it
minutes, hours, Hell–
i’ve even slept in a few, shew, kewl
parking lot waiting
radio, video easy to
with a phone or
without, the windshield
is your screen
1:01 a.m. and my heart is fluttering
2 hours later and the dog’s nose is wet
but I’m no bet-ter
3:16 JOHN, not the Bible verse, just a bathroom,
cold floor relief
4, then it’s 5, then it’s six-oh-five and
I’m up, and alive.
my heart is fluttering
photo: East Bernard, TX, Holga, Ektachrome 400, dated 1994, cross-processed.
texas to me is a mishmash of things; butthole surfers, breakfast tacos, photo friends, heat beyond reproach, dumb politicians, pain teens, tobe hooper, chainsaw massacres, loudness and quiet moments and love, life, space, cherubs, emo’s, cheap peeks, odessa and grins.
i looked up and realized that it had been about 9 months since i had posted a photo, a word, a thought or even a burp around these parts. post-election, post-Trump blues? probably. anyhow, here i am back. so maybe a few lines of a poem, unfinished but there…
if the light you like is like warm, red with warmth, yellow, too,
like socks on feet under blanket in the Fall, almost too warm to take, then
snap, not mentally, but the shutter, camera-kind, snap, put it in a box with glass on.
and you will have captured it. it? the light you like.
betty on the porch. in the light i like.