Thursday, September 29, 2005

gravity


Big music week in Charlottesville, Malcolm Holcombe plays at Gravity Lounge tomorrow night, the Rolling Stones play on a football field next Thursday.
Dollar for dollar Holcombe is the better deal.
Hear him.

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Wednesday, September 28, 2005

Dx


Dx like the corn, Tx will be precise, a date with daVinci. Like the corn, waiting.

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Tuesday, September 27, 2005

notes

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Monday, September 26, 2005

PCa



In his sixty-second year my dad was informed of unwelcome growth; malignant, metastatic prostate cancer. In spite of his yearly visits to the urologist undifferentiated over-enthusiastic cells had divided, multiplied in and burst the confines of his prostatic capsule.

Cut it out, cut it off, irradiate, inject.

Close the stable door.

Post-op my father went about his business. He visited his children, drank with friends, smoked a pipe, laughed, tended his garden, he welcomed the birth of grandchildren.

Doctors are reluctant to share the prognosis, to open the curtain and give the audience an awareness of the last act. We are growing to death, but Medicine denies the denouement. HealthCare professionals treat but they are reluctant to let you in on The Knowledge.

"If I were to share the probable course and outcome of this disease it might shorten your dad's survival."

The patient isn't clever enough to contemplate or plan for the future.

In his 70th year my father ached, his bowel habits changed, his body was failing. What could the matter be? The medical answer was at the end of a gauntlet of tests. The medical answer was also in the prognosis which had never been shared with my dad. For men with metastatic prostate cancer the Mortality and Morbidity graph slopes precipitously, eight years and farewell.

On Sunday we drove to the hospital in my ancient car, hints of spring afoot. His doctor telephoned orders ahead for the introduction of a large gauge catheter into my father's arm. A big bore proboscis, 10 gauge, like a fat pencil lead, sufficient in diameter to inject him with crème of wheat or grits.

My father had reached his three score and ten, the biblical span of a life. He was ready for home, ready to be with his parents and sister, ready to lie down and die. Dying follows life. It's straightforward for the pure of heart.

The MD resented my questions regarding the utility of the big needle. "I want large diameter so we can transfuse."

My father said no thanks to the transfusion. He took some IV fluids, we asked about controlling his pain, we went home.

The second week in April my dad signed his name to a tax return, he laughed, "death and taxes."

Lets call him by his name. Bill. Bill was a lucky man. Bill went the distance. He married the woman he loved. He saved money. His taxes were paid. He was looking toward dying at home, in his room, on the ground floor. Leaving in the youth of Virginia springtime, a shroud of violet and green, forsythia blooming outside the window.

He was brave, he was courteous, he was set to leave. He couldn't stay. He was listing, cancer man, he was full of unreliable tissue.

He stayed a little longer.

He stayed a week. The dogwoods bloomed.

He stayed another week, the dogwoods shed their petals, white on asphalt.

Eight years of being a father afforded me insight into how fathers think. I caught my dad on a good day, when no one was home, in forsythia time, on a solo run. I looked at him and said "I'll be o.k. I'll be o.k. when you go. You are my sun, you are the center of my universe and I will be o.k., you have grown me good, you have done your job, you can lie down now. I will be o.k."

Weekends, my daughters and I drove east to Richmond. Out of the Piedmont to the coastal plain. Granddaddy doesn't get out of bed anymore. I can kiss him all over, I tell him I love him. He can't get up and run.

Being a father made me a better son. Bill and I talked about everything. We said goodbye. These meetings were a gift from God.

He was a fiercely independent man, a powerful force. He worked in the predawn, he worked in shadow, he worked for peanuts. He worked for the joy of astounding. He worked alone.

He had this yule log thing.

Santa couldn't come to our house, no room, In the fireplace Christmas morning, without fail, a tree section that could have corked the sepulcher of the Nazarene. A hulking prehistoric cylinder of wood, oxen couldn't move it. How did he put it in place? We never knew, he wouldn't say.

In the shadows he made it happen.

Rattling, pausing, Bill was doing the scary breathing. The girls and I balanced on telephone-pole timbers, we walked, we stayed out of the house. I returned Emma and Helen to the Piedmont and doubled back to Richmond. I wanted to be with him. "yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil."

I wanted to be with him in the valley, I wanted to be at his hand.

I stayed awake all night, his last night. Sat on an extra bed in his room and read. I sat on the bed and looked at him, now very gone. His body decimated, his mouth open, his eyes not seeing. In shadow.

Morning came. The tulips were blown, the azaleas beyond their prime, it was time to plant tomatoes. He didn't die.

I returned to the Piedmont.

That night he died. He waited until no one was in the room.

I planted my tomatoes and hated spring for years to come.

I lied about being ready.

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Sunday, September 25, 2005

day of rest

Saturday, September 24, 2005

squirrel karma

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Friday, September 23, 2005

Ecclesiastes 9:4

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Thursday, September 22, 2005

equinox

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Wednesday, September 21, 2005

everything i don't believe in

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Tuesday, September 20, 2005

bye bye


the car sells!

we have lots of rules in Slabtown. no tall grass. no compost piles. no loud music. they call them ordinances.
we have a sign ordinance, a lighting ordinance, a noise ordinance.
the ordinances are tools in the city's arsenal. they are seldom applied.

lucky for Slabtown there isn't a BS-ordinance ordinance. they'd have to beat themselves severely about the head and shoulders.

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Monday, September 19, 2005

Virginia Bloggers

I have asked several people "who is running for Governor of Virginia." So far over 75% have no idea. Don't like what yer government is up to? Run for office, vote, git educated.

Today Norman Leahy is hosting the 3rd Virginia blog carnival.

A good starting point for political education. Check it out.



(Note: I am unaware of the creative source of the illustration above. It was e-mailed to me a few months back, around "election time" in Iraq. You thought it was created for the people of New Orleans?
Please, if you are aware of whose creative effort this is let me know so I can secure permission to use and provide proper attribution!)

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Sunday, September 18, 2005

day of rest


Queen Esther Church, Lancaster county

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Saturday, September 17, 2005

sharks


FROM THE DESK OF THE PRESIDENT ORDINATION COMMITEE
ALL CHRIST CHURCH
MR ASHLEY COLDSWEAT
HI SELLER
I AM MR ASHLEY COLDSWEAT,PRESIDENT OF THE ORDINATION COMMITEE OF ALL CHRIST CHURCH UK ITS A NEW CHURCH,THIS COMMITEE IS ON SEARCH FOR A CAR FOR A NEWLY ORDAINED PRIEST IN MY CHURCH WHICH AM IN CHARGE AS THE PRESIDENT.
SO FELLOW I COME ACROSS YOUR CAR WHILE SEARCHING THE NET WHICH AM VERY MUCH INTERESTED TO PURCHASE BECAUSE THAT IS THE PARTICULAR MODEL WE ARE LOOKING FOR,SO I WOULD LIKE TO KNOW THE PRESENT CONDITION OF THE CAR ALTHOUGH WE ARE GOING TO PIMP IT AGAIN TO OUR TASTE AND AGAIN LAST OFFERING PRICE AND FINALLY MODE OF PAYMENT SO AS TO ARRANGE FOR PAYMENT AND PICKUP.
THANKS AND GOD BLESS YOU,AM EXPECTING YOUR REPLY SOONEST.
MR ASHLEY COLDSWEAT
PRES..ORDINATION COMMITEE

(yes I am a dumb white southerner, but sell my beloved car to a man named Coldsweat? Sharks in the Internet water. I confess, I love the English as a second language constructions combined with "pimp it again to our taste")

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Friday, September 16, 2005

show time


Happy Motoring

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Thursday, September 15, 2005

Kill Devil Hills


If the prouerbe be true,?that a fishe beginneth first to smell at the head,?the faultes of our seruantes will be layed vppon vs.
[1581 G. Pettie tr. S. Guazzo's Civil Conversation iii. 51]

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Wednesday, September 14, 2005

gibbous moon



Things going down in the life of this corn. Planted in May. Time renders everything a mortality meditation. W.H. Rehnquist, a couple of hundred soldiers. New Orleans under water, dead patients in hospital. One Candidate out with a fractured pelvis, the other daughter signing up.

Yes yes, life in its glorious color, starts out green, goes to gray. Now different than the longest day, waiting for the reaper.



Where are they now? The corn trio, the valiant plants on the edge.

The edge was good at the beginning, more sunlight. The edge is later not such a good thing. The plants on the perimeter are the first to get fall prey to deer and racoons, first to be harvested.

The edge is risky; ask New York, ask New Orleans ask San Francisco.

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Tuesday, September 13, 2005

piling on...



Michael Brown's new place of employment? I am terrified that Brownie might be hired as Slabtown's traffic engineer. The post has been vacant for over a year.

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Monday, September 12, 2005

volvo 1997 850 sedan

850 volvo sedan

I have eight rolls of film waiting to be developed but another task has taken precedence, selling my vehicle.

Vee-hickle as we say down south.

I beg your forgiveness for introducing such a crass topic. I am looking for a good home for this car. I'd prefer to have it owned by a photophile rather than a stranger.

One of my previous occupational incarnations was Volvo repair person. Seven years working at the Foreign Auto Center.

I crushed my left hand one morning, April 15, 1993. Ouch. My own stupidity. Actually, crushed one finger, comminuted fracture. My boss friend colleague philosopher took me to the hospital, visited during my protracted recuperation.

The finger is still attached.

OK I digress.

Quality is made up of raw materials, attitude and process. This is a first rate car. It has been meticulously maintained by my friends. It has been driven primarily on the Interstate (my daily driver is a 1980 Volvo wagon with 285,673 miles on the odo). The sedan has low mileage (74K). I have all service records.

The car is a 1997 850 sedan, it has all the Volvo stuff: side impact airbags, anti-theft, central lock, traction control, moonroof, spoiler, 4 speed auto transmission, tachometer, front wheel drive, power everything, air conditioning, leather seats, alloy wheels, cd player, ABS...

The mileage has ranged between 21 and 32 miles per gallon.

I'll be back to photo pursuits, but right now, it's car selling time.

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Sunday, September 11, 2005

day of rest and remembrance



The mountains didn?t weep audibly. There was no way to know that planes had impacted buildings. The absence of contrails in the sky was the only visible sign of the destruction.

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Saturday, September 10, 2005

how long?


These children are from Florida but they bring the NOLA youngsters to mind. How long are evacuated families going to be away from home? The airport is supposed to be reopen soon, the port of New Orleans as well. There is talk of the French Quarter being open for Mardi Gras.
What about the people?

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Friday, September 09, 2005

oof ftd stp

grey
Rapidan river fog

Wednesday I was making fun of OOF, out of focus. But truly, the rule of photography is there are no rules.
There is no rule but one.
Take off the lens-cap.
Fog is akin to OOF, fog lowers contrast, blurs detail and in so doing reveals a larger truth, the role of distance. Fog reveals what is near and what is far.
If an image has appeal when blurred its design elements are good.

When I squint until I can barely see the hurricane's sequelae an essential truth looms. Everyone screwed the pooch.


Belated thanks to Chad Dotson, Virginia's elected blogger, for hosting the first Virginia Blog Carnival!

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Thursday, September 08, 2005

ineluctable visuality

fog at dawn over the Rapidan River
fog at dawn over the Rapidan River

Left Sophie in the care of my neighbor and spent 24 hours in the last best place in America.
Can't say last best place, the wannabe trademark holder might sue.
The house sits on the rim of a natural ampitheater in the Piedmont of Virginia. A river runs through it, cows and horses graze around it. Sitting on the porch at night there is a sky above, fields below, chorus of frogs and cicadas, 360 degree beauty and no "security" lights.
The ineluctable visuality of the house and surrounding countryside beats me senseless. My plan was to photograph for 36 to 48 hours. Couldn't live up to the plan, I was overwhelmed after a single rotation. Twenty four hours all the unmitigated beauty I could handle.
The photo method was to shoot first with digital (check placement and balance of rented lights). If the scene was good enough, shoot next with 35mm film. If the composition was still looking good shoot 120mm film with a rented lens (Hasselblad 40mm).
The plan worked fine inside, none of the furniture or windows moved while I was watching.
The panorama outside made a fool of me, beauty in flux. Much of the outside was shot with digital, should have gone straight to film.

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Wednesday, September 07, 2005

prom

photoshop gaussian blur
Back in '99 blurred photos were highly considered by the cognoscenti. Fine Manhattan galleries displayed images that looked like the shots KMart wouldn't charge for when your color processing work was returned.
The goof-proof guarantee...

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Tuesday, September 06, 2005

where are they now?

super dome
I made the picture but lost the names. Failure to memorize, failure to annotate.
This photo dates from 1977, taken outside the Superdome
Where are these guys? Are they still musicians?
Did they survive the water, the wind, the twenty-eight intervening years?

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Monday, September 05, 2005

monday

CHO downtown mall
I didn't have the nerve to attend "prom"

hey dave- my admiration for your daily column, its consistency, reliability and quality has grown substantially after 76 days of trying to mount a similar effort.
On the positive side, the effort provides daily impetus for thinking creatively. The negative side? Being forced to think daily.
Ah! Remember the old days of having a job! There was the effort, then there was the money. No questions about the quality of one's performance. Wage somnambulists. I miss the money and there is no one else to hold accountable on a bad day.
I am late posting, fire me!
bill

Sunday, September 04, 2005

day of rest

calvary_methodist

Saturday, September 03, 2005

wayne newton

grand marshal wayne newton
mardi gras 1977

People say the New Orleans tragedy springs from multiple roots- inept leaders, racism, CO2, loss of wetlands, lack of common sense, poverty, developers, the oil industry, civil engineers, and God's punishment for sexual licentiousness.

Tragedy has many progenitors.




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Friday, September 02, 2005

home

he lived alone
he lives alone

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Thursday, September 01, 2005

forty days

sometimes parents over react
Emory was granted medical permission today to walk on her own two feet, very pleased.

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