5 women, including myself, put on a visual art show. My first that I’ve attended. I also wrote out selections from love letters I never sent. I just don’t need them anymore.
For the record, the off season has been great. Incredibly great. Letting go, dude.
These photos were stolen from Laura McAllister.
I’m collecting my photographs from the past two years for the Cones reunion/art show. The collection is about my use of travel for escapism, but no matter how beautiful and stunning a particular place is it is impossible to escape a mood. Repressed thoughts and feelings and various stages of unrest will be made manifest in the way you see the world, particularly through photography. There is no real escape, however, space (beautiful space at that) can give a fresh perspective and your introspection can find solace and companionship and even empathy in surroundings.
I toyed with the idea of waiting to select my photos, seeing as I’m going to be going on a fantastic trip down to Louisiana and there will most likely be plenty of opportunity for new work to add, but I’m happy to report that this time, this trip, my heart isn’t ripped in pieces. I can honestly say that this time, it’s different.
Knowing that… is one of the most incredible feelings I’ve had in this entire life.
We once knew this young man who described Paul Simon’s “Graceland” as feeling very redemptive. I’ve been playing it nonstop.
I found the first Bob Marley song I actually love. Interesting.
I post these pictures from time to time. I suppose as a reminder.
“… humiliations and defeats, given with a primitive honesty, end not in frustration, despair or futility, but in hunger, an ecstatic, devouring hunger — for more life.”
- Anais Nin, in the preface to “Tropic of Cancer”. She’s talking about the book, but I thought it was a lovely sentence that can be used for anyone that tries anything ever.
Don’t be alarmed by that photo. I asked for it to be taken for I believe in documenting as much as possible, particularly weird moments of life. The short story is that I twisted my ankle and that’s all I really remember till I was on my hands and knees answering “Are you okay” with “No, I don’t think so” and lost my vision. I had a little minor concussion, and ski patrol took me down the mountain on a toboggan and wrapped in blankets. Overall, the experience was very interesting and amusing — I trusted ski patrol and I knew I was not in great danger. Thus, I got to just pay attention and let people do their job and I allowed myself to ride the tide.
Notice the horns. A good sense of humor can take you places most people won’t allow themselves to go.
The winter season is about over, folks. Today was my last official day of work. We pack up and leave in 9 days. An era is over.
… It’s hard to understand how this feels if you don’t move around a few times a year. It’s hard to understand if you don’t take everything to heart. The best way to describe it for me is that every time I move, it’s as if I’m creating a horocrux (there’s some Harry Potter nerdom for you there). Obviously I’m not murdering anyone, but it does feel as if a little of my soul is ripped from me and left in the surroundings. On bad days, it feels as if a little of my heart has escaped me forever, and on good, it feels as if it’s expanded. Devastatingly bittersweet.
My heart is always broken in one way or another. Always. This isn’t said to be depressing or negative or anything of the sort — it is just what is. Heartbreak is what started all of this. My reaction to heartache is exactly why I’ve done EVERYTHING in the past two years. All different sorts of heartache, be them romantic, social, or societal. I don’t think this is sad. I think it’s a big “fuck you” to the world of wallowing. It’s a big “fuck you” to crippling sadness. A big “fuck you” to normalcy.
I’m going to find what I want, I swears it. I’ll search until I find it. No one can ever say I didn’t fucking try. I did, and I do, and I do it as best and as honestly as possible.
This winter, I tried. I tried out a real winter. I dealt with loneliness. I tried a new sport. I read and I painted. I tried to understand men, I tried to understand friendship and intimacy. I tried my very best to be good without being too hard on myself. I’m figuring out what is important, what it is I need. What I can do away with. What I can’t live without. I love these mountains and I love the space.
I have no regrets.
Things we make.
THE ELEMENT.
John Muir. A bear I saw in a book.
(Source: rabiscosemfotos, via tazzmarazz)
