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hi. i'm going back to china in 2 weeks, to hong kong. i've been through that airport twice, but have never been in the city, ever. i don't think one should be able to say they have been somewhere if they have only stopped over in the airport. i haven't been in china since last september, and that is about all i can say. 

ok. good.

awwwww

the state of this sign over the past 2 months. i drove by it every morning on the way to work, and told myself i had to shoot it. i'm glad i finally did because now it is congratulating the local high school team for winning the state ice hockey tournament. in this photo, it pretty much sums up the winter. nothing going on. after the hockey thing comes down, i hope to put the statement, "BILLY IS A JERK" on there. i have no idea who billy is, but that dbag is a jerk. ok.

the calm

hello. yesterday, i read a short story by Raymond Carver entitled The Calm. it is set in a small barber shop, and most of the story is about the main character watching a conversation between his barber and 3 other men. near the end, the barber breaks up an argument, and all 3 end up walking out of the shop, leaving just the man in the chair and him. this is the final scene:

THE barber turned me in the chair to face the mirror. He put a hand on either side of my head. He positioned me a last time, and then he brought his head down next to mine. 

We looked in the mirror together, his hands still framing my head.

I was looking at myself, and he was looking at me too. But if the barber saw something, he didn't offer comment. 

He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it slowly, as if thinking about something else. He ran his fingers through my hair. He did it tenderly, as a lover would.

That was in Crescent City, California, up near the Oregon border. I left soon after. But today I was thinking of that place, of Crescent City, and of how I was trying out a new life there with my wife, and how, in the barber's chair that morning, I had made up my mind to go. I was thinking today about the calm I felt when I closed my eyes and let the barber's fingers move through my hair, the sweetness of those fingers, the hair already starting to grow.

love, loss, memory. these things are so powerful, to the point where feeling them, even if they hurt and cripple, is better than not feeling anything, at all.

so, now.

someone once said to me, "make it happen."

i did.

ok.

see

i went for a late night walk yesterday, mainly because i hadn't run in several days and needed to just get out and MOVE. but of course, i brought the camera. as you've heard me mention, my town, newburyport massachusetts, is a small quiet place. last night, the streets were void of all life. cars were in lots or driveways to make way for snowplows, and no one was out walking at 10:30pm. just a lonely exercise starved person like myself in search of an image or moment that could transform this "life is good" type town into something phenomenal and epic, at least to me. i've been in search of these photos, for over 10 years, from when i got a small olympus stylus epic and shot photos constantly. what a great little camera that was. damn, i miss it. now, it seems, i'm always hoping for that one shot that will define it all. a shot that will explain to someone everything that is going on in my head. an image that will make someone's heartbreak, in the way that i have previously explained heartbreak. 

a photo that will make someone truly understand me. 

perhaps this is a lot for one image to do, actually, i don't believe that. stand in front of picasso's guernica, or a work by sol le witt. stand on a dark hillside in valley forge park, and stare at the memorial arch, lit up alone amongst the forest and forts. listen to "horn" by nick drake, or read the passage in The Fountainhead where Roark explains to the dean of his school that he doesn't need school anymore. hell, watch brando explain to sheen the utter impossibility of war and humanity. 

these single moments of creativity or expression, if they are worthy, extend miles and miles beyond their original intent and purpose. 

ok. good.

hi. hello. hi.

hi. another late night. i've been around now for 39 years, officially, now. 

recently, there have been tremendous changes in my life. everything that i have known, all the conventions and rote mechanics of the way that life should work have been left behind. even the way that relationships work no longer make any sense to me. it's very depressing, because for me, nothing is certain anymore. i'm holding onto one thing. to the idea that following your heart, that listening to your instinct will bring you to who you need and want to be in life. maybe that end point will be with someone who you share a special unique bond. maybe you'll be satisfied creatively, financially and socially, but will end up constantly traveling and never having a stable situation.

maybe i'll keep ruminating on all of this until my brain finally can't do it for one second longer. i think that is what will happen. what happens then . . . ok.

the winter effect

hi. it is snowing again on the north shore of massachusetts. it has been winter here since forever and it is not letting up. if you have read this blog at all, then you know it is chock-full of symbolism and meaning, at least for me, and this winter is just one more symbol to add to the list. it is cold, miserable and often very lonely. the wind makes you cry and the snow over time moves from a pristine white of promise to a polluted and tarnished gray of reality. i don't know when this winter will end. i can't see when the feelings it creates will cease. i'm not sure if spring equals possibility or memory. chet baker once sang that he "should never think of spring, for that would surely break my heart in two." hmmm. ok.