Look through my eyes/see what I see:


Geary bros:

What is great in man is that he is a bridge and not a goal: what is lovable in man is that he is an OVER-GOING and a DOWN-GOING... I love him whose soul is deep even in the wounding, and may succumb through a small matter: thus goes he willingly over the bridge.

Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra
Seen in the Musée des Beaux-Arts
Who needs Whistler? (I don't.)

DID HE LAND THIS JUMP? Only we know the answer.



(He didn't land the jump)
My life and its influences span this beautiful country and occasionally dot the globe. I consider myself privileged in my experiences and in my relationships. Together we survive another spin on this satellite. Life moves forward.

Progression is not without loss. The past year especially turned my path in a different direction than what I may have expected, leaving some relationships confused and weak, the last glowing embers in a once great fire. This comforts, rather than upsets, me; it reassures that my life is moving forward, that I am still young and malleable, that I am alive and ever changing.

Progression is not without gain, either. My old friends--travelers, go-getters, city dwellers, football runners, music makers, construction workers--have greater importance to me than ever. I cherish more and more simply being with those that make me laugh and cry and yell and fight. I build myself piece by piece from the influence of these people.

And there are new friends--travelers, go-getters, city dwellers, bike riders, coffee drinkers, story tellers--that appeared and filled pieces in my life that I did not know needed filling! If I am thankful for one thing, it is my consistent luck in meeting such interesting and beautiful people. I am not one to make a thousand friends, but the few that trickle to me become invaluable.

-Late walks home, snow storms, a joint on the front steps, a beer after a test, bike rides, a tattoo, a jump into a waterfall, a drive to the Atlantic-

The following pictures are glimpses of my past year, but is nothing close to a proper archive. Some of the most valuable moments are not very photogenic at all, and so will remain bright only in my memory. These pictures, with some exceptions, are of people.

Also this blog is approaching three years old! I find great solace in upkeeping this site; if you have a moment, click 'Index' on the right and scroll through my younger years and laugh at/with me.
(also, Google Analytics says I am growing a small following in Russia)



Then it came to me like crashing and thunder, like death and destruction. I got up from the counter and walked away in fear, walking fast down the boardwalk, passing people who seemed strange and ghostly: the world seemed a myth, a transparent plane, and all things upon it were here for only a little while; all of us, Bandini, and Hackmuth and Camilla and Vera, all of us were here for a little while, and then we were somewhere else; we were not alive at all; we approached living, but we never achieved it. We are going to die. Everybody was going to die. Even you, Arturo, even you must die.
There came over me a terrifying sense of understanding about the meaning and the pathetic destiny of men. The desert was always there, a patient white animal, waiting for men to die, for civilizations to flicker and pass into the darkness. Then men seemed brave to me, and I was proud to be numbered among them. All the evil of the world seemed not evil at all, but inevitable and good and part of that endless struggle to keep the desert down.