The Sierra Nevada. The sun: two fingers above the ridge. Day 1

Ah, the wilderness. Get on a flight to anywhere, and without realizing it the din of the roaring engines keeping you aloft becomes gentle—even unnoticeable—background to your senses. That never seems to happen here, for in the absence of cacophony, our nerve endings tingle in anticipation. Atop a rock on a hillside at sunset, even the eyes delay their next blink. And what was previously a dimming meadow in the shadow of red volcanic hills becomes scattered dandelion insects, dust in the low light.

Will Calls (Marfa Demo)" by Grizzly Bear

Ethio Invention No. 1" by Andrew Bird

Rainy Afternoon.

Rainy Afternoon.

till its over" by MR•CAR/\ACK

Tycho - The Daydream" by Tycho

Amelia Island.

Amelia Island.

Summer 2013 — St. Augustine.
Developing some film tonight; rediscovered this roll the other night.

Summer 2013 — St. Augustine.

Developing some film tonight; rediscovered this roll the other night.

27 August.

House to myself for the first time ever. A cat, a piano, an apartment condensed into this room. My paintings aren’t “adult” enough; my gizmos and easels, cameras, books not fitting for a house shared with a TV.— But for the week, a week not nearly long enough, I’m alone in the Abende and mornings and I will try to enjoy as many self-revealing moments as possible.

30 June.

The sun is coming up. I’m drinking all the beers in my fridge to keep awake, have my own time when I miss living alone. Mosquitoes got inside somehow; can’t absorb the philosophical movies and dogma as readily as I used to; I barely have an inner monologue anymore. It’s still worth trying.

A friend’s friend’s grandma who’s lived in the same house her whole life starts talking about her dog with cancer wrapped around vital organs and I’m thinking about the phrase “well, he’s gonna die anyway, but these will make him feel better.” Why do we make such a big deal of death? It’s a good motivator for trying to do the unordinary, but a better question could be, why prolong your life? That may be all that we’re doing, with our diets and not smoking cigarettes. We fight unfounded fear, to deny it and desire to prolong life. Why? So that we may drive our riding mower and gather knick-knacks on shelves? To wait till we’ve worked long enough to earn a new dining set? If death isn’t the scary part, why are we so vehemently fighting to avoid it?— in the sense of, give me the reason your life brings meaning to everyone else’s existence.