Photo #1

This is Kagman. Notice the subtle lighting and the dramatic tension between the telephone poles and the sinews of the pooping dog's shuddering haunches. A moment in time forever preserved.

On Writing

Have you ever had the experience that you... you sit down at the keyboard. And you put your hands in position, asdfjkll;, and then the next thing you know, it's three hours later and you don't know where you've been. It's like you've been in a trance, and a ghost has entered your body and it's been typing away for all that time, shooting off e-mails to former employers about what you really think about them, and maybe even walking around the apartment for awhile and drinking a whole bottle of ketchup. Even writing in your family blog?

Totally just happened.

But that's just how it is when I write. It's like, while my hands are sweeping over the keyboards, I get lulled into this strange otherworldly hum. And while I'm in that hum, I am utterly unaware of my own actions. That's the power of the written word, and that's why I worship at its altar. That's why I drink from its word-encrusted chalice and send libations spilling all directions in the name of The Logos, of the Paragraphy, of the Sacred Syllable. In the space of seconds, your heart will change, and yea you will not speak but write the name of your one true... Well, you know. That whole thing.

It's been a trying time lately, working on the blog, because... um... let's just call her "somebody", "Somebody" keeps demanding eye contact when she's talking to me, and I have a difficult typing and looking at someone else at the time. I mean I can do it, and do do so, but I end up with more typos than usual and I hate revising (as I'm sure you can tell, LOL! LOL!) Anyhow, so while the Eye Contact Queen stepped out with the boy for awhile, McDonald's again, I think, I've been lucky to grab a few hours of type-time and Word worship.

Behind the scenes, everything's going as swimmingly as advertised. We're headed towards a big President's Day, and Lori and I are going to have the World's Biggest President's Day Bash right here in our humble shelter. I've decided that this year I'll be going as an oldie but a goodie: #5. James-freaking-Monroe. I've already memorized his inaugural address, so I'm ready for that section of the party, but I'm still having trouble nailing the Nineteenth Century Virginian accent. The long vowels are a killer.

Lori's going as Hillary Clinton. Again. She's such a smart-aleck. She had her gown made our of this material that's got nothing but 4's on it, because she says she's number 44. And I said something, like, well, it's good that the dress kind of leaves it up in the air, 'cause I don't think you're going to see her in the White House again until her clone takes the seat as our 444th President in 3608 AD. That's my hunch.

Well, they're back, bringing with them the stench of gluton, grease and tallow. Until later, my friends, may Logos smile upon you.

On Photography

The nice thing about being asked by tourists to take their pictures is that you really get to practice your craft. Or my craft anyways. I love taking pictures. I mean to say I really just love it. But I love it the way a painter might love it. That is, just as a painter might only produce one or two paintings in a year, I may only snap three pictures every two years. I don't want to take a picture of just anything. I want it to be earth shattering. I want it to waken the mind, un-numb it. I want it to reinvigorate at least four of the major senses. It can be any four, it doesn't have to be just sight, touch, smell, and hearing or anything like that, but it does have to get at least four. Otherwise, it's just a picture. Not a photograph.

Think about that word. Photo, from the Aramaic word for light and graph from the early-Phoenician word for pencil. When you wave your light pencil across the world's cratered, pock-marked face, you want it to leave something behind. Something that churns the guts of those who encounter it. And I mean encounter. Not just see, or run into, or observe, or visit, or gaze upon, or ravage with their eyes. I mean encounter. To experience? Nay. To dance with? No. To be enchanted by? Not good enough.

I'm talking about encounter.

Not engage. Not get blindsed by. Not face or meet.

Encounter.

That's what you do with one of my photographs. My light pencils.

I'll post some of these. Please, don't just enjoy them.
Encounter them.