I realized today that even though I’ve long known that my environment has a lot to do with how I think, feel, and create, I’ve been doing a poor job of curating it: too much news, too much distraction and not enough thoughtfulness or adventurousness. Less candy, more nutrition!
Winter approaches gracefully in the mountains
And now I’m in…Salt Lake City
At some point tomorrow I will lose cell service, and then I’ll be in…the Boise National Forest…for a week.
Gonna miss this island, but: onward!
Lake Cushman at dawn, Olympic National Forest, Washington. (from this photo)
Blackberries on the ferile vine, Seattle, mid September
Reading Sergio Pitol’s “The Art of Flight” has me in awe of his generation of writers and artists, who understood the matter of living for the art of it to be so central to everything.
Shipwrecks and the Atchafalaya, an exhibition of paintings and works on paper by Simon Gunning at the Arthur Roger Gallery. Beautiful Louisiana-themed work.
I just want to be out here all the time. That’s all.
The more enthusiastic the ignorance around me, the more enthusiastically I apply myself to reading and learning. As it becomes louder and more dissonant, I become quieter and more focused. I am biding my time. I am growing.
”Pharisaism, stupidity, and despotism reign not in merchants’ houses and prisons alone. I see them in science, literature, in the younger generation...my holy of holies is the human body, health, intelligence, talent, inspiration, love, and...freedom.”
Finished re-reading “Between Parenthesis” by Roberto Bolaño / finished “Poso Wells” by Gabriela Alemán / currently perusing a new Paris Review / currently reading “The Art of Flight” by Sergio Pitol / currently reading “Citizen Illegal” by José Alvarez / on deck is “The Journey” by Sergio Pitol and “Barracoon” by Zora Neale Hurston / and of course, one can read all the science he can handle for free at PLoS ONE
“Only the fruits of thought and artistic creation justify man's presence in the world.”
Every summer I swear I’ll embrace the coming winter and enjoy the cold, not because I hate summer, but because I want to love winter just as much. Still, I fail within the first days of autumn, when my muscles begin to ache with chill, and I miss the summer heat once again.
I wonder if the crew of this ferry knows that the most accessible void is within each of us.
I’ve learned to watch baseball through the blocks and pixelated haze of a crowded internet; my father learned to watch it through the ghosts and haze of a busy atmosphere. The sound nearly always comes through good enough.
And now I’m in…Vashon, WA.
No filter on this beauty here
Skyline and sunshine
As we walked by these spheres, I overheard someone in the crowd remark, crudely, on Jeff Bezos’…um…chutzpah.
And now I’m in…Seattle, WA.
I love BLDGBLG’s perspective on anything, like finding European hunger stones: if you are reading this, you are already doomed
I call my decorating style “perpetual guest room resident”
