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The Locker, Gestation, And reacquiring the same shit over and over again
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1842
Garage sales, the same shit over and over again, old cameras, another maul, another old phone, these are all just tools - symbols, markers of my interior life; a phone: communication - through time and space; a camera: memory, records; the maul: history - sometimes mine; fountain pens: writing, expression, vanity; art supplies - the same; clocks, watches: time - the brevity of life; skulls, antlers, watches, trophies: memento-mori, vanity; music boxes: love, romance, ideals; puppets: expression, drama, the human condition, your own condition, made accessible to others; Rulers, Telescopes, Microscopes, Scientific Instruments: the attempts to order, understand, classify, measure; Postage Stamps: art, communication; Dolls: love; broken dolls: neglect - coin for mixed media, artworks; Candlesticks: history, illumination; fishing gear: sustenance, relaxation, ... I could go on endlessly.
But I've noticed, in the absence of possessions (everything being squirreled away in the locker) that I am again re-acquiring the same-old, same-old shit. I can't seem to leave it behind. OK, I'm acquiring it at prices that allow for a good margin of profit - always, it's never a "I have to have this..." situation, but it reinforces how much of my life is lived unconsciously, drawn towards the same ideas, expressions, much like breathing, smoking, drinking, it's it's own bad habit, a circular pattern of thought.
Some of it is cultural, there is only so much that can be acquired, understood, within our culture, for some other curiosities for my wonder-cabinet I'll need to source further afield, a field trip to do some Thames digging, or Bangkok - India -Nepal - for more varied religious kitsch, I'll need to top up the Paypal, acquire some bitcoins, ethereums, cryptocurrencies for my more outlandish tastes, but I seem to have fallen into a rather predictable pattern...
Everybody knows the victim
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Miscellany
- Hits: 1714
3 Fentanyl deaths per week, or thereabouts, apparently it's good for the organ market. Once a month somebody disappears, falls into a creek, or jumps maybe, the media is sensitive to the families, speculation is confined to the few close friends. A plane crashes, car crash, there's an assault, a break-in, it's a small town, everybody knows the victim, the perpetrator, it's strange, this, more personal, rarely in Calgary did the news make a difference, seldom did it impact you, but here, it's all personal, if you didn't know them somebody you know did, you're only ever one degree of separation from the news...
Mine
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 1349
I'd spotted it off to the side of the road, planned to investigate - it's well hidden, off a main highway, driven past a hundred times before I spotted, it's visible only for a second. And so, rainy evening, planned to explore...
Water streaming from the ceiling, still flooded, it goes back perhaps forty yards - some interesting crystals forming on the walls (too powdery & fragile to collect), and colourful mineralizations, but all in all a bust.
Rainbow over Ward St.
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- Written by: Rod Boyle
- Category: Images
- Hits: 1613
Spotted this over Ward St., everyone had their phones out, it was a lovely evening...
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