An end of a table

Well, you know. It's just a little something to idly stare at.

One last summer

It's both a blessing and a curse of this place, where I live, that it has such a transient nature. Friends come, or are found and made, only to all too often go... with a kind of inevitable predictability. The good ones are of course the most missed and hardest to replace, though not so much because there aren't other good friends to be found. It's more because the earlier losses make one a little more numb and a bit more hesitant to start yet again.

A widow's memory

Gardening, part IV

West of the devil's backbone

The dark and dirty south

The other day I stumbled upon a recently made documentary film on YouTube about the photographer William Eggleston, titled William Eggleston in the Real World. While I wouldn't necessarily call it a remarkable film, it offers interesting insight into the everyday life of the photographer.

The documentary mentions a collection of video footage Eggleston shot during 1973-74 which he called Stranded in Canton which is available online. It's black and white video taken in Memphis and New Orleans using an early portable Sony PortaPak camera several years before Eggleston became renown for his color still photography. The individual video segments that make up the whole are variously sweet, poignant, humorous, and terrifying–with all of them being terrifically surreal. It's worth a viewing if you're feeling adventurous, although you might want to skip past the segment with the geek street performers in New Orleans. (That's 'geek' in the original sense of the word, as in a carnival performer who does disgusting things like biting the heads off live chickens.)

Pop

This is a portrait I took of my dad back in April not too long before his 78th birthday.