Monday, August 30, 2010


Andy spins a few around Rocky's roundabout. Tire warmers, lights, cops, cameras, speed action - great attitude and support from everybody. This is the first big set shoot I've ever pushed the trigger for, and I realize now more than ever how hard it is to pull off. No chance without the help of my friends, and no hope without the example of my mentors.

Friday, August 27, 2010


Seems like everything is going faster now. Even under a full slow moon.

RR tracks, TN

Thursday, August 26, 2010


The air just turned. Seasons. Dig the breeze, even chill. It's written in the clouds. Long and floating, bulbs of vapor and wisps of coming fall. Underlit by one rising moon, the next one for harvest. Dylan scopes it from the light tower, old Tennessee's Norfolk Southern RR.

Howardsville Crossing, GA line.

Monday, August 23, 2010


Maybe the best thing about summer is a honking dark storm sweeping up and blasting out. Here comes a sheet of rain up the Tennessee, the water pelted, trees swayed and vultures surfed. Gone in 20 minutes. Ain't nobody dope as thee, yo so fresh so clean clean.

Williams Island, TN.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

More Stuff

Time to get a place to live. Well, a place to keep my stuff. As genius George Carlin said, "while you go out and get ... more stuff." It's difficult to think about this after containing life in a backpack for so long. I don't want to lose that sense. But to keep crashing much longer, I might burn. No wallpaper please. Just a garage with some hammocky rafters and maybe a wood stove. Plumbing would be good too.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Desert Lo-fi

Something irresistible about space. Everybody has heard. Getting out underneath it, the westering that stretches out and opens up, then bears down. You just have to stop and brandish a camera at it occasionally, feebly, as if to fend. Never worked. Sometimes the sky is big enough to smother.

Starring: America.
Music by Calexico
Logistics by Honda

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Flash Flood

A doublecomplete rainbow comes with consequences. Like about a zillion gallons of rain-cut mud pounding off every dry waterfall slot this side of the Henry Mountains. The drainage for this plateau is actually supposed to run the other way. Forget that. Too much water fell on the sandrock. So much dirt in there, you could float a pewter cow. It's chocolate milk, or rust pudding, or chundered sienna. Funny how shy the desert is with water. When the stuff comes down, she doesn't know what to do with it. One hundred fifty feet of Wingate cliff and gravity at better than eight pounds per gallon, slightly lighter than the 18lb/gal barium drilling muds that just plugged that pesky hole out under Louisiana. Difference is, the Nestlé Bunny is going to come boofing off this thing any second. Every parched rock was spouting and the thunder rolled. When it rains, it pours.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Doublecomplete Rainbow

At the risk of sounding relevant (nothing is older than the news - ergo nothing is more boring than the echoing reflecting secondbysecond content of the internet) here's a picture of a rainbow. This is actually a picture of us coming out of Cataract Canyon a few days ago, billowing along before a big storm. Far away from the infectious viral videos, our rainbow was not drug enhanced. "It's so intense!" What does it mean? Moses said it best I do set my bow in the clouds, and let it be for a token to paraphrase Yaweh. A token of what? Nothing could matter less. It happened, thank god, and that ought to be enough.