I’ve taken to putting my earbuds in on the bus so that no one tries to talk to me, so that I can quietly take in the odd tiny waiting room a bus is. February right now, end of winter is here, too far north for most people. The days are just starting to get longer, but rush hour still matches up with sunset. Today a break from the snow, and the sun is glaring from the west, everyone has a dramatic light on them light like they’re lit for a film, with what I think it would be called a pepper. I made a film once, I helped make one that is, the director and producers knew about the lighting stuff, not me. A girl checked her reflection in her in the black screen of her phone, people seemed happy to have the sun on their faces, you get to miss the sun in winter. I’ve never much liked such dramatic light, too contrasty. I don’t take pictures of people on the bus, I know that it would upset people, my DSLR makes far too much noise to do it without notice anyways. I suppose I don’t like the dramatic light because then all someone sees is how pretty the light is. Of course light is the primary, and only part of any photograph when you get right down to it, but I think that life can be the subject too. If the lighting sparkles too much then that’s all you see.
Sunday, February 17, 2019
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Sunday, June 28, 2015
Saturday, June 27, 2015
What It Was
Being awake is so very unlike sleep, this constancy of faces, warm pressures, open streets, and insistent calls for attention wear me down each day. Each day my effort is for a silence and solitude in this constant intercourse that I walk into. In the day I operate on versions of programs I’ve written, that secure, propel, and insulate me from the masks that folk don each day. I can wonder tonight who was it that I talked to, what they meant by; and dream how they are. But, today I have little time to pause, and ask the why, and what it was; there is more to be done.
Tuesday, February 03, 2015
Thursday, August 07, 2014
On Sentences — An Urge to Silence
a kind of writing noesis
the punctuated sentence a noeme
having the presence of paper
having the pressure of a thought spoken
the doubt of halted speech
the burden to speak
at all.
a kind of writing that urges towards silence
the burden to speak
double halted speech
the pressure of a thought spoken
at all
can thinking be punctuated
at all
except by the pen
a kind of writing noesis
the punctuated sentence a noeme
having the presence of paper
having the pressure of a thought spoken
the doubt of halted speech
the burden to speak
at all.
a kind of writing that urges towards silence
the burden to speak
double halted speech
the pressure of a thought spoken
at all
can thinking be punctuated
at all
except by the pen
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