open book

This frame is from a heavily-timbered, sort of spooky slot gorge, not exactly the kind of place anyone goes bonkers over being it’s just down the road from a dirty, morose little mountain town with a mean old lady who drives a pickup truck with a faded bumper sticker save the trees, wipe your ass with a spotted owl, so it gets points in my book. Between the walls in here, sound ricochets with such intensity and treble, it’s as though every droplet of water could be charted or mapped, I wondered what it would be like to slow time down. There was probably a six stop ND filter on the lens here to push the exposure over ten seconds and I remember being excited to see how the combination of textures would turn out and maybe there’d be a secret message in the wall. Nah, it’s just a regular rock wall.

April 2011 - Granite Falls (78)

Last weekend was relatively quiet, noteworthy mostly because the boys’ mother took her first day off in a month and a half, which is absurd in the fullest yet we feel remarkably lucky considering the horrifying unemployment rate, you could say she’s been working for tomorrow.  On Saturday, after some steady morning rain subsided to windy sunshine, we embarked from the house for several miles of walking through a handful of neighborhoods including Madrona and then on a whim we looped back over Denny Blaine, which is sort of an out-of-the-way place we don’t really go except for these walks of desperation. By coincidence we happened to pass Kurt Cobain’s old house, I felt a little self-conscious about my camera (which I never used on the walk) and tucked it away because there’s a nearby park which has drawn tourists over the years due to the reoccurring makeshift memorial located on a thoroughly unassuming park bench, devoted to that towering cultural icon. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was there for that reason, I care way too much about what people think, sometimes. Oliver Fern peed in the bushes in the park, he had to go really bad as usual so Adam and I formed a human shield and the wind gusted terrifically hard and the pee started arcing toward us and Adam broke the line but I just stood there in horror.

4 thoughts on “open book

    • The silt from the glaciers upstream might be hard on the hydrophones. For some reason all of the sudden I have a funny picture in my head of a freshwater snorkeler with a bad seal in their mask at an inopportune time.

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