70/365 – Dreamstate

I have a Gorilla Pod from Joby, and a clip that attaches to my phone for it. I’ve got remote shutter controls and a GoPro and all the connective tissue that allows me to control one from the other. I’ve got toys that help me make this project as interesting as I can.

Today I dropped my phone and when I picked it up this was more or less the image on the screen.

Lately I’ve been trying to remember dreams. It’s something that has eluded me all of my life. For a while I just had bad sleep patterns. Then I tried to fix those sleep patterns with nighttime meds that didn’t so much let me sleep but allow me to be unconscious for a few hours. Then it became something that I never really thought about – dreams were just something that never happened.

I want to know more, though. I think there are answers there.

8 or a 9

69/365 – On The Rise

I’ve been watching this building come up from the ground for the past 7 months. There used to be a parking lot there. There is a red elevator that goes up the spine which all the workers use to get from floor to floor. At lunch they all spill out of it onto the sidewalks where they rest and eat food off the roach coach that comes by.

Today I received the kind of affirmations that I absolutely needed to hear. From friends and colleages, even my damn “boss.” While they may not hve been exact answers, they were the kind of thoughts that affirmed I was more or less doing what I need to be doing.

fall colors

66/365 – Colors

This is the time of year everyone wets their pants about the colors of the leaves.

A few weeks from now it will snow and that will snarl traffic and cause some socks to get wet, and people will go nuts over that as well.

I’ve spent the weekend celebrating the Equinox in my own way. Up in the hills, lost upstream, getting lost in the brows, reds and golds of the hills this time of year. Everything is brisk, the mountain air at the bottom of the valley dips into the 30s this time of year. ┬áStanding mid-stream, waiting for the fish to pass around my waders, I take a moment to reflect on the summer season coming to a close.

“Summer is here, we have to make the most of it.” A few weeks later we’re hunkered down in someone else’s air conditioning. We’re spending hours on a packed highway getting up into the mountains to escape the heat of the city or to hike a trail thousands of others are already on.

Now, pumpkin spices and apple cinnamon. Bourbon sipped in overstuffed chairs. Plaids and denims. Cold knuckles over keyboards. Early sunsets and dark rooms when the alarm goes off in the morning.