we'll all float on

Christian Kiefer with his banjo, which was not recorded that day. After a round of drummer cancellations, he ended up behind the kit, stringed instruments in their cases. Sleeping. December 4th. Having turned thirty two the day before, I felt older.

The port of San Francisco. It is evening. I spent my day walking about the city, and reading in parks. Looking for a tea kettle. That evening saw me drifting away from the city on the back of the ferry boat. Why I had never taken this boat before was a mystery to me. I stood watching the light fade away, the sun falling, casting blue on the bay bridge. I was mesmerized {as usual} by the stunning grace of the city.

Me, in a hotel, with the sun coming in.

The lights of the city, seen from the deck of the boat. The wind, biting my skin. Me, the only one sitting outside.

Keri and I at the San Francisco airport. 2:30 pm eastern standard time. {11:30 in California} sleepy, but awake from the plane. Laughing about how absurd it was to watch people react to the famous man in first class. The oohs and ahhhs. The strangeness of our post-modern, western culture.

A street in the middle of the Canadian winter. A white street, filled with snow. The lights shining down.

The view from a winter window. The pink sky, reminding me of spring evenings on Kentucky street in redwood city California. The nostalgia thick. It makes me think of jeff mcdowell, and miss him. Wonder just how it is that I’ve never seen his child. How does life do that to us all? Send us adrift in some giant sea.

Another shot of San Francisco from the ferry boat. My god I love that city. All of it. everything about it. everything.

And then rosie, who is currently my favorite living dog {that I know.} how is it that we can miss a dog so greatly?

I am currently reading {yes still} The cave by Jose Saramago in which there are some amazing insights into the brain of a dog. The soul.

And so the fire burns. Christmas has come and gone. My wife sits beside me reading as I type. I work on a mix cd {s} about which I will soon write, as it has consumed me. Obsessively so. Thoughts still scattered. All things {time included} blurring together. A link below to an amazing photographer. Some artists, in their greatness and conviction {and altruism}, cause me to question just what the hell I’m doing with my life. Perhaps these questions never leave. Christian wrote aptly about something related to this {more or less} on his site today. The mind reels. The fire burns. The winter lives. The wife reads. The man contemplates a walk. Yes, that’s it. a walk. “and we’ll all float on okay” {hints from the mix}

sebastiao salgado {afore-mentioned photographer}

Posted by jeff pitcher at December 28, 2004 09:30 AM

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