Looks Like I'm Back But I'm Not Sure How

This blog has lain dormant for nearly a year, not because I lost interest, but because somehow, inexplicably, I was locked out of my account and could not for the life of me figure out why. Every attempt at correcting the situation failed.

I even contacted Google. Have you ever tried to talk to Google? Well, don't bother. Nobody there speaks English. Or Russian, Spanish, Chinese, Laotian, or Swahili either, for that matter. No, they speak Javascript, HTML, PHP, AJAX, C#, Perl, VB.Net, and Python.

Hell, I imagine a few of them even speak FORTRAN, COBOL, and S/360 Assembler, at least some of the older ones.

But English? No. Well, a few words here and there but they're strung together in a way that doesn't make any sense to Earthbound mortals who sweat, cry, bleed, and develop anger management issues because they got locked out of their %$&*@#$ blog for no $%*&@# reason and STAYED locked out for a %$&*@#$ year.

Until today, when I was inexplicably and for no apparent reason, allowed to come back in and warm my feet by the fire with a cup of hot cocoa to cut the chill left over from my 11 month odyssey in  the outer darkness where the only sounds are weeping, wailing, and gnashing of teeth.

I even gave up and started another blog. It's entitled Itinerant Pictur Taking Fool (and yes, the spelling is a typo, but one I decided I liked the looks of once I really looked at it-plus, Google wouldn't let me correct it anyway). Apparently, once it's in the computer, it's a part of your permanent record, Buster.

I even gave it a mast for branding purposes, complete with art.

Itinerant Pictur Taking Fool

I just now realized the photo needs some work. One of those birds needs a camera hanging from his neck. And he shall have a camera hanging from his neck if it's the last thing I do. 

But otherwise, whattaya think?*

*Edit-Camera added

I digress (more and more often of late, I've noticed). The blog was never much of a success, partly because I don't fully understand the mechanics of making a blog successful, but mostly because, I think, I only wrote one post. I started dozens but I only wrote the one. Every time I'd try to start a new one, it was like I'd freeze, the words stuck somewhere between my brain and my fingers, the artistic inspiration standing frozen, staring straight ahead  as imaginings coursed through my fevered brain (must of caught a chill in that there outer darkness) of a Google-shaped locomotive just waiting for me to make a go of it so it could crush my dreams beneath its silly little Google-doodle locomotive wheels just because. It could.

Yeah, no reason, really. We're Google, we own the doodle and we own YOU, and that's reason enough, Under the wheels maggot.... I can picture them saying. 

I wonder why it is that in my dystopian hallucinations Google suddenly speaks perfect English. Or maybe I suddenly understand DROID//boT-DesTRoyer WHOSYOURDADDY or whatever the hell language they speak over in Silicon Valley. 

Speaking of which, it's only relatively recently that I realized Silicon Valley is named for the computer chips that were pioneered there. Which makes perfect sense now that I think about it and is actually kind of a relief. 

I'm just glad I never asked out loud why anyone would name a place after breast implants. 

And I'm not sure where to go from that there. I'm not sure there is anywhere TO go. 

Suffice it to say I'm back, even if only for awhile and through no special efforts of my own. 

Unless, well, I did just sign up to follow Stonekettle Station, Jim Wright's blog that is a cyber-neighbor of mine over here in Bloggerville. To do so, I had to sign into my Google account, whereupon one of my several account usernames popped up so I rolled with it, I typed in a half-remembered password, there was a huge explosion and look where I woke up. 

Okay, I made up the explosion, but the rest is true. Every. Single. Word. 

Until next time....

Righteous Indignation

A publicity still from the independent film "Righteous Indignation," currently shooting in Little Rock, AR. I took this shot on the set today shortly after shooting wrapped for the day. 

For the Birds

Since I got back into photography in such a big way I've been spending a lot of time photographing birds. Actually, I spend more time watching them than taking photos, as they aren't all that easy to get good pictures of without quite a lot of patience. To have a few good bird pictures you have to shoot a lot of bad bird pictures. 

Like this one, for instance:

BAD BIRD, BAD BIRD PICTURE! 

I'm not at all sure what that bird thought it was doing there but then again, it was apparently important enough for me to take a photo. Which is now published. That's one for the birds, I guess. 

But a recent trip to the Alabama coast provided me with several days to watch the antics of the ever-present seabirds. 

Antics indeed. 
(Just a couple of laps around the Gulf, okay?")

Thank you! 
Thank youuuu!








I'll be here all night. Don't forget to tip your waitress on the way out.

D'ja see that? Yeah! D'ja see that, ya birdlegs!

Oh yeah, the seabirds could be downright comical, those party animals. 

Oh yeah? You sayin' I'm funny? 
Funny how? Ya mean like a clown funny?

My mistake. They aren't comical in the least. Seabirds are thugs. 

You better believe we're thugs. Mess with us and you're askin' for it. 

Look out, guys! Shore patrol's comin'. 


Act normal! Normaaaalll!

There they are! Act normal!

Okay. Normal it is. I'm just a guy walkin' on the beach. 
Yep, just checkin' out all the chicks on the beach. 
That's what's happenin' here. 
Otherwise, nothin'.

Whew! They're gone now. They didn't suspect a thing. 

Party!.... Party!.... Party!

Uh oh. Looks like trouble. One of these guys is no seabird. 

Time to pounce! 

Okay. Back it up now. Back it up. 

Hey, no problem. I just heard the sand fleas here are the best on the beach. Not to mention the service is great. Heh, heh. 

Hey, you're not gonna eat all of that, are you? 

Oh gosh, look at the time! 

Tomorrow's a school day, you know.   

Yeah, and those trucks ain't gonna load theirselves, either. 

The beach is great, ya know? 

But leavin'? 
Maybe not so much. 

There's always next weekend though. 

Sometimes the photograph says it all

Merry Christmas 2014

In this season of hope and happiness, may the Spirit of the Season find you at peace with the world, with optimism toward the future, and with love in your heart for all mankind.

Whether you celebrate Christmas, Kwanzaa, Winter Solstice, Hanukkah, nothing at all, or just like a good party, how you believe or don't believe, my wish for you is to have the sense that we truly are all in this together and it's never too late to be kind to one another.

Thank you for stopping by and for joining this little gathering. May the coming New Year be the best of all for each of us as we reflect on the paths we have traveled and anticipate the journey yet to come.

Peace be with you and yours.

Nothing Gold Can Stay

One of my favorite poems is by Robert Frost, and I guess this time of year triggers the melancholy associations of Fall and the turning of the leaves as the winds begin their descent from the north to bring thoughts of the inevitable Autumn of our lives, and the Winter to follow, which sooner or later will be something most of us experience, and for which all of us will be taken unaware. 

I've always seen myself as young in my mind, never old, a situation that was always normal to me. Until I read my late Grandma's journal. Grandma, to me at least, had always been old and so I grew up assuming that she saw herself as she was to me. 

Then, as I read the words she put to paper as she approached her 70th year (and I approached my 21st), I learned that she saw herself exactly like I saw myself then and still see myself today, fleet of foot, long of breath, nimble and strong, because, like her, that is what I used to be. 

Nothing Gold Can Stay.

---------------------------------------------

Nature's first green is gold, 

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her early leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

By Robert Frost

1874 - 1963

I Wonder What it's Like to Live in a Film Noir World

Do you remember the old detective movies? You know, Jimmy Cagney, Edward G. Robinson, the old black & white, film noir genre? Jean Paul Belmondo, perhaps?

In life as film noir it's always a little dark, a little gritty, with a skyline that's always foggy and a threat hanging in the air.  Where you'll find menace to be your best friend, fever pitch anxiety your constant companion, with death and desolation never far from your side.

You know there's a trainyard (probably freight) that figures in somewhere. There always is. It will be soft focus in the background with foreground details brought out in stark relief. Because that's how it is in a world like this. A world with tracks that you're on the wrong side of. 

The story generally will take you to an old warehouse park in a bad part of town at a time of night when the only people out looking are on the lookout for only one thing...Trouble...spelled with a capital T.

The only light is the light you see reflected out of stagnant pools of water left over from a too insubstantial rain that fell too long ago to accomplish anything but too much humidity on this still, sticky night. 

The bad guys all have flashy cars that sparkle in the moonlight like diamond inlays in a gambler's mouth, while the good guys work too hard on loading docks, owe too much money to shylocks, and drive cars that look too much like they belong in the junkyard instead of the driveway...and that's on a good day - a day when they run.

The shadows menace and dance through the trees, their branches naked of leaves and pointing like skeletal fingers into the night...pointing at nothing...pointing at everything...the point of every branch an accusation...an indictment...with all of them pointing directly at you. 

Your nerves light up like the slots at Barney's Speakeasy as you look first one way, then the other, up and down the darkened street, looking for anyone, afraid of everyone, knowing that nothing good ever comes in the night. 

About that time that Humphrey Bogart steps out of the shadows, streetlights reflecting on the cold steel in his hand, and as the start of a death rattle dies in your throat....

That's the end of the movie. 

The credits roll.

You go home.

This time.

Until next time....

The Hills Are Alive With a Rainbow of Color

Fall is one of my favorite times of the year. There's just something about the just right snap in the air, the clarity as the summer haze lifts, and the changing colors of the leaves. Definitely, the colors. 

Arkansas has an absolutely stunning display of Fall color as the leaves begin first to fade from the normal green hues but suddenly explode into vivid technicolor brilliance. There is nothing in nature to rival the sight for pure beauty and wonder. 

Along the highways and byways of The Natural State, nature becomes the stage manager and choreographer in one, as first one, then another, and yet another of the majestic Oaks, Sweetgums, Blackgums, Dogwoods, or Sugar Maples change to a majestic kaleidoscope of reds, yellows, oranges, in all shades and intensities until finally, inevitably, the season passes and the leaves are shed for another year. 

But while they're here it's a sight to behold. 

As slowly, slowly, but much too quickly as well, the leaves begin to lose their intensity, 

Their color begins to retreat from the rainbow hues as the edges begin to dry and to brown,

Until just a few are left. 

And then no more for another season. As it has always been and so it shall be. 

But the promise is there that the leaves will return in the Spring to begin the cycle anew. 

The calendar shall begin its journey through the seasons, waiting until Fall, when the rainbow arrives once more, when the leaves announce their departure from this earth with the most glorious spectacle saved. 

Saved for the grand exit.

And the seasons turn. 

Until next time....