Involuntary Motion (2005)

Deliberately - never a good time for me - that it has all come down to this - over and over every new moment, life experience itself a life dividing splitting multiplying everything new containing mostly old the inexperienced asymptotically approaching the whole thing Wherewhen every new day becoming less significant - a smaller thing Ifwhen my second day of life was half my experience that same day - from this current perspective - was it the same as 20 years? Here. That i find myself here at this moment - And that - no less a curiosity than a rack of billiard balls rolling themselves backwards to form a perfect rack - impacting so perfectly together to absorb their collective energies and dispose of it on a briskly escaping cue. II I made a mistake . (once) and i feel better now - having disposed of the guilt - keeping it a secret. I'll not be wrong again - blaming it all on myself - paying back what i don't owe - JonBoy laughs at his dad - asks why the heck he doesn't have any glassware - spoons and forks of the metallic variety . so dad says he doesn't like owning things cause usually the ownership thingy operates in reverse - operates in reverse . My house is filled with enough things to worry about as it is - Dadburn kid can eat out of paper served with a smile and the most genuine fatherly concern in all of humanity. The glassware bowls i broke drilled threaded hung - now banging out cute little tickettitytanks out in the wind out on the porch - confirming for me a belief that had been festering in my heart for which i had had no proof - that most everything had a purpose . I mean a purpose in spite of my own . doesn't add up to nothing anyhow (that kind of stuff c)- good as dads gotten cook'n cornflakes - that boy knows what's up- i mean it never was about the housewares . so you got to give that boy some credit . strange as the old man has been - it's like hot coffee at bob evans - just like it ought to be - so he either doesn't know or genuinely doesn't care - either way - it's just one of the million things that make me love him so much . and i own that c - and i guess that was my point . I like owning that . but i have owned far too much in my life i have owned for too little because fairy tales aren't fairy tales until after happily ever after - which having come to grips with that c - the thought of being any richer than i am at this moment - is utterly meaningless . its all mine. III . it can be quite shocking - learning to what extent the universe does not revolve around us - it's not that i am a mean-spirited person - contrary but to say there are a lot of stupid people in the world is probably a mean - unnecessary thing to say . Mean - doesn't make it false . (and there are those who are now wondering or thinking that i meant them . And i probably wasn't until they thought so) IV . Ansel said when ever he took a photo - he felt as if he was taking a picture of something was that really there - - - taking a photo of how he felt about the scene - the emotion she went on for a spell - this and that about her art - this person whose art i hold in the highest possible regard - uneducated i am about art - painting - drawing ; that the measure of good art to me is directly proportional to the extent at which i leave the work scratching the crown of my skull - wondering how the hell they did that . that is my only measure Human beings amaze me in every possible way - the greatest amazement i find - always in the creative realm - her 30 minute dialogue about abstraction versus realism - who likes whose art or not - i was most curious as to why she even cared . To me - when a person reaches a certain level of skill - who the hell cares what the critics think - but then - easy for me to say . A rope always frays most at its end and ever as much along it's length - same in life i suppose - today is when it all unravels - yesterday’s unraveling’s fold back nicely in the current of time - and are woven back into the fabric of our lives as we remember - I have never personally known a more impressive artist - and she's over there riding in my car - anxious . A lesson for me - we can't always hold the body of our work - or the unfrayed length of it - in our mind . We all - even the best - can at times - focus only upon the messy end - on the current as for me - walking in the fog of snow - i thought about the phases of my own creativity - my outlets many . Athletically - academically - finally expressively - in words and photographs. I don't always have enuf energy to express myself - us bipolars are like that - burst -withdrawal - burst But i am most impressed with what ansel said - that what he photographs isn't really there - that he was never photographing nature itself but HOW HE FELT about what he was seeing - the photo somehow contained that emotion . That is what she's not thinking of when she wonders if her own art is abstract enuf - it is the same dear - her paintings - while always beautiful landscapes - overflowing with emotion - and that is what art is - expression of feeling - i think i read that somewhere - sure as hell didn't learn it in the modern physics course i took in college As for me - walking in the fog of snow - i thought about the phases of my own creativity - my outlets many . I do suppose - within the current fray of my life - it is not that i have ceased to find beauty in my life - rather that i have grown tired of trying to convey it .That taken as a whole - my life is not as beautiful as i had hoped it would be - and those moments when my breath is taken away - significant to me - and of the utmost meaning - i am most often met with frustration in my futile attempts to express it . and for now - i've grown tired of the pursuit - especially since i have seen that it can spoil its most holistic meaning - it is where i find myself - living in the thing that i see rather than trying to express it - i often feel forced to choose V . Ansel said when ever he took a photo - he felt as if he was taking a picture of something was that really there - - - taking a photo of how he felt about the scene - the emotion she went on for a spell - this and that about her art - this person whose art i hold in the highest possible regard - uneducated i am about art - painting - drawing ; that the measure of good art to me is directly proportional to the extent at which i leave the work scratching the crown of my skull - wondering how the hell they did that . that is my only measure Human beings amaze me in every possible way - the greatest amazement i find - always in the creative realm - her 30 minute dialogue about abstraction versus realism - who likes whose art or not - i was most curious as to why she even cared . To me - when a person reaches a certain level of skill - who the hell cares what the critics think - but then - easy for me to say . A rope always frays most at its end and ever as much along it's length - same in life i suppose - today is when it all unravels - yesterdays unraveling’s fold back nicely in the current of time - and are woven back into the fabric of our lives as we remember - I have never personally known a more impressive artist - and she's over there riding in my car - anxious . A lesson for me - we can't always hold the body of our work - or the unfrayed length of it - in our mind . We all - even the best - can at times - focus only upon the messy end - on the current as for me - walking in the fog of snow - i thought about the phases of my own creativity - my outlets many . Athletically - academically - finally expressively - in words and photographs . I don't always have enuf energy to express myself - us bipolars are like that - burst -withdrawal - burst But i am most impressed with what ansel said - that what he photographs isn't really there - that he was never photographing nature itself but HOW HE FELT about what he was seeing - the photo somehow contained that emotion . That is what she's not thinking of when she wonders if her own art is abstract enuf - it is the same dear - her paintings - while always beautiful landscapes - overflowing with emotion - and that is what art is - expression of feeling - i think i read that somewhere - sure as hell didn't learn it in the modern physics course i took in college As for me - walking in the fog of snow - i thought about the phases of my own creativity - my outlets many . I do suppose - within the current fray of my life - it is not that i have ceased to find beauty in my life - rather that i have grown tired of trying to convey it .That taken as a whole - my life is not as beautiful as i had hoped it would be - and those moments when my breath is taken away - significant to me - and of the utmost meaning - i am most often met with frustration in my futile attempts to express it . and for now - i've grown tired of the pursuit - especially since i have seen that it can spoil its most holistic meaning - it is where i find myself - living in the thing that i see rather than trying to express it - i often feel forced to choose VI . ten months - still unaccustomed to the sounds of this place - the smells the embeddedness - embedded within an either that is itself unembeddable - in motion. in my particular case - involuntary robins sing Natures melody - depressive for some - elixir for others unnoticed by the "dead" - Insomuch that another spring is upon me - (the Hepatica might well have bloomed by now) - is it indifference? Or is it truly that the circumstances of my life have changed? until this moment - i hadn't thought to ask myself that question - insodoing - failing to notice the ground upon which i walk - that there even is something holding me up - how could something so fundimental be something never pondered? that i might find a striking scene out my bathroom window - do my eyes let me down? trick me into seeing beauty where there is none - keeping me firmly imbedded within what i find unfamiliar? VII . deep within the fabric of my experience - there are eddies of feeling - gently swirling - swelling at times - flowing out into the boundaries of my physical being filling me with a calm no human expression might hope to convey - at times even this is alarming i can not now - nor have i ever been able to describe my deepest feelings - experiences so rich as to be difficult to tolerate in all but menial portions - yet it is where i live. that i have had disappointments - well - every human being alive has - but i have had much upon which to be glad - and my experience is not one from which you would expect a reasonable person to recoil - - and it is not that i wish to flee from the whole - entire - i do wish at times - for complete- absolute stillness escaping not the ill - not the bad - but the good and delightful as well - everything. i do find it odd - forty three years of life - without recess. there are times i feel overwhelmed - there are times i simply want to rest. X . two things i miss most - my Son Jon Boy - but that has gone without saying for some time now - he's grown so much in the last two years - taller than me now - playing in a rock band - admitted to the most prestigious high school in Indy - proud father i am. The other thing is a genuine fireside - a wintersnight fireside - wherewithout - a soul could freeze in place - - upon closer examination - i find the two - my Son and the fireside bring forth exactly the same feeling inside - a sensation of a soothing glow - all-filling - the feeling that if i never had another thing beside these - a fine fireside - and my Son - it wouldn’t be a wasted life XI . drive some time - fifty miles or more - having left the house at dawn - expect to be floating down the river - trout river by 8 big water river - water that can hurt you if you're not careful and watching for the lurking house-sized rocks that can jump up from the trout-filled abyss and sink your canoe - cold winter day - by my self - no time for an emergency - river moving - put in - float drift down on the discharge - point of no return came and went about thirty seconds after i launched - once a half minute into the trip - the entire trip must be completed - due to the extreme current flow of the river - The day cold - north wind - fish not biting well - but no matter - as Gray also put if - "The fishing was find - the caching was so good though" - and i like that - with a deep sky - bright with weak weepy clouds the day long - many hawks making high broad circle - mating season - many daffodils have bloomed - the water clear - deep and very cold - full of fine - in fact monster trout - if i could only get them to take my bait - I've been fishing all my life - grandfather took me it seems all the time - i wonder sometimes what he would think of my fishing abilities now - fifteen years gone - it was a slow day - catching wise - but i did catch two trophy fish - one brown trout and the other a rainbow - either fish would have made it worth the day it took to complete the expedition - I do so love to trout fish - and as the years go by - i get better and better - and that is a joy to me - XII the old idea - there are times my immediate experience that lay beyond what i might hope to convey - in every possible aspect. It is only because i know you find this to be true as well - my silent periods not unnoticed- forgiven. XIII full thunder moon - they are out there, by the lake and field filled with wildflowers. Drinking a beer or two, not twist off - a rough day, packing - driving past the Massive, high hanging land - pitching tents not worth pitching - lighting lamps and putting the young ones to sleep. Friends. Driving 4 hours over the most magnificent landscape in the world, to find a place to camp? Going places i never thought possible - Never thought would come to fruition. Might never see again. …. The past is more certain than the future, if only slightly.