And so I float.

I drift in this hazy dream state. I wander less than lucidly through reality. I ponder and float, I catch my boss levitating in his office. I prance over to fetch my lunch and dance around as I eat it, merrily. Why do I do what I do? Why do I do anything? These questions have plagued my mind, as I milled over my man crush on a math tutor with fancier socks than I and a woman crush on every woman that walks past my eyes (not quite though).

Why do I do what I do?
I can't say I know the specific answer

But instead I respond with a statement: I don't need to do anything.
And, for now, I believe I do everything for fun, remembering God.

I should do what brings me joy, and nothing more.
I avoid this convoluted system of perplexity. I decline this ceaseless cycle of problem creation and problem solution. I refuse the notion of insanity.

I am that I might have joy.

And so I float.

A Wee Update

Not a wee wee update. Happy Holidays to all, whatever your holiday of choice may be (I hope it was Festivus! or maybe Christmas). I spent my break vacationing in Florida and in my home Washington, passing time with alligators and douglas fir trees respectively.  The good news is I'm back in town and back in the dark closets. The even better news is I shot some great roles over my break and I picked up a new Kodak Brownie. The miscellaneous news is I ordered some new SD cards for my digital, and I even placed some bids on a few 50mms – put down $70, Idaho forbid I pay full price for them. 

Santa Claus Uneditted

I apologize for this not being a verse full of Christmas cheer,
But its the truth and it may instead fill you full of Christmas fear.
So hide your kids, hide your wife, we're gonna cut to the quick with a very sharp knife.

You know Dasher and Dancer and Comet and Cupid,
And I'm sure after sixty years of song you know Rudolph-the-Red-Noser,
and Donder and Blitzen, and all of those guys,
But do you recall, the fattest one of them all?

Yes we speak of our very own, Santa Clausen,
For our beloved Santa Claus is nothing other than a molester!
On the weekends they call him Uncle Fester.

Its a Hoax! Over are all the jokes,
Burn his fancy red coats, Its a Hoax, It tell ya',
An old fat man with a big beard and a big red sack! Are you guys out of your mind?!
For its not toys in that big red sack,
But its nothing other than little girls and little boys!

'Twas the night before Christmas, when Sant Claus came to my house
He took all of my children! and even my mouse.
I ran down the stairs all kinds of unawares,
Just to see their tiny fingers and toes
Sticking out of his bag as up the chimney he rose.
I dashed to the window, only to stare 'ere he drove out of sight. . .

Surprised? Yeah, me too.
But what's a man to do?
So I poured myself a cup of nog,
And then shouted at the top of my lungs "Woohoo!
All the presents are mine, let the Christmas bells chime! . . .
By about this time he'll be down in Vegas;
I heard he shaved his beard for a Fu Manchu.*



Merry Christmas and God Bless you everyone.



*spelt Foo Man Shoo in my original. 

I thought I lost this roll. I didn't. 

Rail Jam. 11th Annual event hosted by Sticks and Stones. Bring in some snow. Tell everybody about it. They come and go down it. 

Christa Badoni. The low light of the setting sun sifted through the autumn trees, fall colors all around. She had asked me to capture some photographs for her mission. I clicked away into the last moments of light. 

We went out to a Cabin in Kelly Canyon. The first snow of the season. Light and powdery like sugar. Snow balls were thrown. Good times were had. Foods were consumed. After the meal finished, the fondue began; we dipped into that pot, and we never came back out.