"To the complaint: "There are no people in your photographs," I respond, "There are always two people: the photographer and the viewer""
-zoe leonard
Friday, January 28, 2011
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
santa fe, please be quiet, please?
a dream i was telling two korean immigrants about my trip to new mexico on a red clothed-seated bus, who by the looks of their faces didn't understand a word I was saying. I was in Vancouver. all my things were intentionally scattered throughout the city in specific places; my bed under a tree, my toothpaste in a car exhaust pipe... I walked past a bombed-out building, people were sleeping and bathing in their cubicled rooms without walls. They were mostly Islamic. I wondered into the middle of a peaceful protest organized by Palestinians . A Conan-O-Brian look alike was running around acting his part. I picked up a sledge hammer and broke some windows that were lying amidst the rubble. I wanted to leave, but was stopped by Translink Security unit who held up a video camera to my face telling me the only way to leave was to plead to the government on a live feed, begging for my worth.
on top of the morning to you, santa fe---
an excellent breakfast at Tune Up Cafe, plantains, beans, tortillas, eggs, nopales, and a whirlwind of coffee.
walked around santa fe, reminding me of a victoria except with tan adobe buildings, a very bright sun, and very wealthy tourists. bought some boots, lit a candle in a church circa 1610, and needed to leave.
Drove through, suburbs? Rolling hills with trees speckled with, on first glance could be mistook-en for rocks, but were actually homes, up to Hyde National Park. Entered a trail, knee deep in dry, powdery snow and started my climb of one thousand feet. Swiss-army knife out, ready for attack, if I was to be prowled by a cougar.
I ended up on some highway with cars bolting which ways, looking for the trail head on the other side, that the map which fell out of my pocket during the ascent displayed. fuck it, there were no signs except for a girl guides campsite, long, long since abandoned. I started to trek down the interstate. It wasn't five minutes when a teal buick century pulled over and two young teens, grinning, asked the what fuck I was doing on the road. I piled in the backseat on top of a week supply of mcdonalds debris as the two teens passed a joint to one another. Yeah, I am from BC, and nope, I don't ski. They drove me the five minutes (really, I hiked all this way up) to the ski lodge.
microwaved re-fried beans for dinner on the bed with re-runs of seinfeld.
Awoken around 3am by boisterous laughter coming from the room next door. The laugh was so hard, the woman who was doing it, coughed periodically, stumbling over the hilarity. We couldn't help but joining in, so we laughed along. An hour later, the laughter started to sound like deep, perverse sobbing. Experiment with drugs? hostage? sex torture?
Woke up around 8am, to hear the same hard laughing/sobbing. Upon checkout we noticed her door was ajar, and probably was ajar all night.
on top of the morning to you, santa fe---
an excellent breakfast at Tune Up Cafe, plantains, beans, tortillas, eggs, nopales, and a whirlwind of coffee.
walked around santa fe, reminding me of a victoria except with tan adobe buildings, a very bright sun, and very wealthy tourists. bought some boots, lit a candle in a church circa 1610, and needed to leave.
Drove through, suburbs? Rolling hills with trees speckled with, on first glance could be mistook-en for rocks, but were actually homes, up to Hyde National Park. Entered a trail, knee deep in dry, powdery snow and started my climb of one thousand feet. Swiss-army knife out, ready for attack, if I was to be prowled by a cougar.
I ended up on some highway with cars bolting which ways, looking for the trail head on the other side, that the map which fell out of my pocket during the ascent displayed. fuck it, there were no signs except for a girl guides campsite, long, long since abandoned. I started to trek down the interstate. It wasn't five minutes when a teal buick century pulled over and two young teens, grinning, asked the what fuck I was doing on the road. I piled in the backseat on top of a week supply of mcdonalds debris as the two teens passed a joint to one another. Yeah, I am from BC, and nope, I don't ski. They drove me the five minutes (really, I hiked all this way up) to the ski lodge.
microwaved re-fried beans for dinner on the bed with re-runs of seinfeld.
Awoken around 3am by boisterous laughter coming from the room next door. The laugh was so hard, the woman who was doing it, coughed periodically, stumbling over the hilarity. We couldn't help but joining in, so we laughed along. An hour later, the laughter started to sound like deep, perverse sobbing. Experiment with drugs? hostage? sex torture?
Woke up around 8am, to hear the same hard laughing/sobbing. Upon checkout we noticed her door was ajar, and probably was ajar all night.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
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