The ability to time travel, music in particular being most effective,
inescapable in paralyzing form.
Stopping you mid track, feeling time compress, overlap and trap.
A fun house of mirror memories.
Feeling the salty breeze and bath water skies,
where gravity was left by definition.
Laying in the sands, under the speckled, sparkling blackout, blanket overhead.
Forward, racing onward, headlights gone dark, full moon gleaming through pitch-black.
Flying, floating, awake daydream roaming, hunkered on the hillside's train tracks.
Eyes trained on the waters rippling, ripping through time, clocking the mileage,
dog earring this space I'm designating mine.
2.11.2017
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
storm winds
Unraveling,
faster than a spool of thread facing the edge
of a domestic hillside.
Consumed by thoughts of the impending change of fate.
Following this pattern,
A waterfall effect of negativity.
Narcissistic thoughts set to auto-pilot and
I've got no breaks.
Entering a dream world where I become third person narrating the disaster.
Walking, maybe running, through the fog
and I'm taking lovers with me.
faster than a spool of thread facing the edge
of a domestic hillside.
Consumed by thoughts of the impending change of fate.
Following this pattern,
A waterfall effect of negativity.
Narcissistic thoughts set to auto-pilot and
I've got no breaks.
Entering a dream world where I become third person narrating the disaster.
Walking, maybe running, through the fog
and I'm taking lovers with me.
Saturday, September 5, 2015
Unexpectedly expected
September's arrived baring all it's distinct markings of ochre and brick tipped leaves. Glowing grey morning, peppered with sun, wiping the days slate clean with brisk evenings and cool nights. The inner chill beginning to settle in, no refuge from it's impending progression of winter, only to be lifted again come a new season of warmth.
I can smell tonight. Battling chronic allergies stripping this ability, but tonight I can smell. Nostrils filling up with nostalgic poison. Flashbacks of memories almost crippling in their rapid pace. Close to paralyzed from sensory overload, jaw tightening while those small lumps form at the back of the throat where the tongue meets, forming like a terminal cancer. Enveloped in the moment, taken by smell, this is a form of time travel I'm much familiar with.
A smell I will forever link to the pacific north west fall and winter. Sweet, piney, dewey, musky and invigorating. In this smell I am brought back to that small two-bedroom apartment where we started life anew. Wandering the nights to that corner pub, piggy-backs home, falling into that neighbors yard, kissing for the first time. We had been inseparable. New job, new classes, new video work, I was your muse and you my rock. You were different then, we were. This impending season, sending me though time, surprising me with the open door as the air fills with memory. Not a safe place for progression from the past.
I can smell tonight. Battling chronic allergies stripping this ability, but tonight I can smell. Nostrils filling up with nostalgic poison. Flashbacks of memories almost crippling in their rapid pace. Close to paralyzed from sensory overload, jaw tightening while those small lumps form at the back of the throat where the tongue meets, forming like a terminal cancer. Enveloped in the moment, taken by smell, this is a form of time travel I'm much familiar with.
A smell I will forever link to the pacific north west fall and winter. Sweet, piney, dewey, musky and invigorating. In this smell I am brought back to that small two-bedroom apartment where we started life anew. Wandering the nights to that corner pub, piggy-backs home, falling into that neighbors yard, kissing for the first time. We had been inseparable. New job, new classes, new video work, I was your muse and you my rock. You were different then, we were. This impending season, sending me though time, surprising me with the open door as the air fills with memory. Not a safe place for progression from the past.
Thursday, September 3, 2015
For the better, for the worse
Dreams and reality almost interchangeable. Day obsessions into night, visions so vivid they become applied memories, important in conscious thinking as well as the un-.
Alcohol induced haze makes both states equally as tangible, pertinent.
Days spent sober to un-sober and back again. Conversation heavy, playful, leaving my head whirling. Balanced intensity of truth, assumption and unmeasured amounts of passion. A dangerous and dynamic duo.
Moments, multiplying, adding to a pattern of relationship. Almost impossible to recollect all at once as they continue on, unable to trace its entire lineage.
Photo adventures, city exploring to the outskirts of the state, to the coast, into the mountains. Even off the side of a backroad where the dirt bank was a perfect parking spot. Wandering in, getting too high on that joint, lost, eventually escaping by scaling the steep incline to the top of the road. How close we were to the actual point of entry. Laughing our heads off after the woods trauma, I decided I liked getting lost with you.
Day drinking at Kelley Point, the Sandy, that street, that neighborhood, wherever; I felt freed, amazing. Laughing with you, always laughing, it's always been my favorite part. The grins shared are beginning to show their layered levels. Passionately secretive and secretly passionate. Feeling empowered, over powered, I can't get enough of the mix. Nostalgic memory and excitement of fleeting intimacy twist in my brain, distract my thoughts. Drug-like, consuming and yet somehow, refreshing.
Alcohol induced haze makes both states equally as tangible, pertinent.
Days spent sober to un-sober and back again. Conversation heavy, playful, leaving my head whirling. Balanced intensity of truth, assumption and unmeasured amounts of passion. A dangerous and dynamic duo.
Moments, multiplying, adding to a pattern of relationship. Almost impossible to recollect all at once as they continue on, unable to trace its entire lineage.
Photo adventures, city exploring to the outskirts of the state, to the coast, into the mountains. Even off the side of a backroad where the dirt bank was a perfect parking spot. Wandering in, getting too high on that joint, lost, eventually escaping by scaling the steep incline to the top of the road. How close we were to the actual point of entry. Laughing our heads off after the woods trauma, I decided I liked getting lost with you.
Day drinking at Kelley Point, the Sandy, that street, that neighborhood, wherever; I felt freed, amazing. Laughing with you, always laughing, it's always been my favorite part. The grins shared are beginning to show their layered levels. Passionately secretive and secretly passionate. Feeling empowered, over powered, I can't get enough of the mix. Nostalgic memory and excitement of fleeting intimacy twist in my brain, distract my thoughts. Drug-like, consuming and yet somehow, refreshing.
Friday, August 1, 2014
It's been awhile
ITS BEEN AWHILE.
This past week I went on an adventure to explore out past Portland heading north-west up
route 8, onto route 6, through 47 and home on route 30.
In that small expanse, there was incredible scenery and great off-road paths to explore.
Looking forward to many more explorations this summer.
Gales Creek - First and longest stop, got lost in the woods and scaled
the drop off to reach the road.
North West River highway - Found abandoned farm houses with a
tabby and hungry horses.
Route 47 - Towards Veronia, discovered old train tracks, an abandoned trailer,
old boat and gutted volkswagons.
Some favorites of the day:
In need of some inspiration and motivation, weekly plans have been set to explore the NW to shoot with my good friend Reid. Finally remembering how important it is to watch the progression and steps taken, rather than solely investigating the outcome.
Time to be serious about the process: not only the end result.
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