Atmosphere, Eugene

Eugene, Oregon. November 2009

I had completely forgotten just how much I love flying. Hanging high above the earth gives us land-based bipeds such a novel perspective on the world (I now appreciate New Mexico at least one and a half times the previous Appreciation Value). David Abram spoke the other night about the omnidirectional capabilities and struggles of birds in flight; great, really great. I feel like slack-lining is a flirtation with a non-two-dimensional travel space.

In Which My Cellphone Redraws A New Physical Reality (above),
and a new view of the Sandias (below). November 2009

Re cognition (01)

(current memory, past event: August 2008)
It is an absolutely gorgeous San Franciscan day in the Mission — late summer sun. One of those days that pries doors open; the light begging, beckoning, growing yellower; the grass puffs up to its fluffiest, and applies alluring green eyeshadow. The humans flock to Dolores Park to bask in the sun and socialize and watch people watching people-watchers — gaze streams around in a giant circle or web. Dance follows suit, music as propellant.

A fellow nears me, where I am sprawled over and under the yellow bicycle that Mikey lent me. I had pedaled my rounds, absorbing what I could of the bay before my impending departure from this place that enchanted me for better than a month. Faltering and lurching, this man sloshes about the crowd before collapsing near my feet, already dirty clothes finding mud beneath lush grass. I close my eyes and felt the sun warming my eyelids. I breathe.

Little time passes before I feel the bike shift underneath my leg. I awake quickly and sit up, regaining an anxiousness that the boozer had tucked me in with. I understand immediately that the rear tire of the bike is in his mouth. Oi, hey! He was chewing on it. What are you doing?! He smiles awkwardly, tho sincere — teeth crooked, or missing.

He responds, I'm tasting where you've been.

These Colours Graced My Life

I turistici (vecchie foto)

Monkey, see.