Wednesday, October 26, 2011

ampersands in the air

from the aviation museum in Ottawa:

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

onset / continue

Our travels had not progressed badly, in that none of our number had become ill, or left us; we had not been attacked by any wild creature, although the questioning suspicion in the eyes of fellow men made us hesitate. Was it always the lot of the pilgrim to be feared, almost despised, by those non-pilgrims encountered upon the way? We had no way of knowing; we had never before been in these lands, we had never undertaken such a journey. We wondered if they feared we brought plague, or war, or coveted their lands for ourselves, and in their eyes we saw the desperate hold of the hopeless upon that which they have been given. None offered us apples from their orchard or lodging in their barns; but we could see their fear and their poverty, and we did not begrudge them this inhospitality.
The Big Roads : the untold story of the engineers, visionaries, and trailblazers who created the American superhighways / Earl Swift

yet more and more and more and more and more rain

Thursday, October 13, 2011

matter / antimatter

The bag contained no more than was absolutely necessary.

There was a map, which was unfortunately later determined to be a map of the wrong place and from the wrong time, but it was nice to have the map for reference, regardless.

There was a pen, and the pen almost always wrote, although sometimes to get it to start it had to be scratched quickly back and forth on some rough paper, even though I never really understood why that was.

There was a little notebook with a flexible spine and a nifty elastic band holding it closed, and I had bought the little notebook in a fit of inspirational passion -- here was a place for all of my ideas to go, jotted together at odd moments, jumbled elegantly for future access. The little notebook with its nifty elastic remained stubbornly blank, my name on the flyleaf the only mark, pages cannibalized from it to write out notes to give to strangers, but it was never a repository, only a source for sending things away. My moments of universal insight and truth continued to be recorded at random on the backs of envelopes, electric bills, and documents that I had intended to shred, and then inevitably lost, the universe claiming its truths back to itself.

Indian summer followed by storms

great article on gender expectations and norms in the Atlantic

Thursday, October 6, 2011

Valley News

(1) Currently in debate in the Senate, the casino bill that just won't die. The area senators support it, but perhaps you could let them know their opinions are misguided.
"It is inconceivable that the short-term tax benefits of making a change on this scale, which would provide a minimum of three destination casinos throughout Massachusetts, can possibly be justified in terms of their much greater social, economic, and environmental costs. That such a creation could happen, quite literally, in our backyard, with no community feedback or input, can only be described as horrifying."

(2) In happier news, I'm in an upcoming group show at  Paper City:

all things in time

The last place I saw him, things weren't going so well. He had had one or five too many and had found an old banjo behind the bar, and next thing you know he's standing on that bar, strumming that banjo with a wail that could skin a cat. You've never seen anything like it, him so obviously out of his mind with drink and at a total separation from every last one of his inhibitions, but there on that bar he's totally unaware that one slip in a puddle of beer and his head could open clean as a ripe cantaloupe.

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children / Ransom Riggs

first frost