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.
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.
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.
you can see, be, say, do two things at once. doesn’t mean either of them will be the better for it. may actually be worse for it. but sometimes duality mumbles quietly…something(s) part of both that make a whole.
happy birthday to this guy. sixteen he is, sixteen, oh no, it can’t be. has it been that long? i think he was seven in this picture, maybe six, but definitely not eight yet. doesn’t matter. i’m old, these boys are getting old, boyhood has escaped all of us involved. what happened to youth…mine anyway?
so yes, what a boy this boy has become. a young man indeed. so proud of what he does daily, the discipline, the insight to life, the empathy. i’m biased but he is one helluva kid. seriously, he has his own way of carrying himself that denotes a maturity that i’m not even sure i have. so, yeah, proud. pop.
so happy birthday, my boy #2. i hope i am around for about fifty more of these. my love to you always.
weird at times, how images appear, then disappear just as quickly. one click of the shutter, usually hurried, shaky, not as sharp as you would like–but there… too far away, wrong camera but you still try to grab it before it’s gone, one frame on a roll of 12 then on to something else. just capture the here, now, if you can. and, you can.