identity crisis, doubts & insecurities...

and photos in no particular order or with reason.





Well, the holiday season is over. And so seems the
holiday spirit. I've come to the conclussion that it's
about the kids, and not to expect much from the rest of
society as a whole. That's a downer. Along with the
economy, my crappy made-in-America-broken-family-vehicle,
and that lingering thought of 'is my job next?' and 'can
they spare me?'. Leaves me like my bike:
laying around, covered in dirt and flatted. (photo tie in)



I've been riding everywhere lately.
Out to the hills to drop off my Aunt's car (after borrowing it
for a week). That was a 20 degree headwind early morning ride
to work. Out in the country waiting to get clipped by a redneck
in a beater pickup. Turns out, aged hippies in Subarus are the
ones to watch. Lesson learned. The ride time gives plenty to
think about, I make mental notes on what to write about. By the
time I get to a computer, the inspiration has left. No motivation.

A late night ride (11pm, 15 degrees) on the road to the airport
to pick up yet another rental car (because the van IS STILL in
the shop). There are no street lights. So you roll the dice and
sprint in the middle of the lane until headlights come up behind
you. Then you jump to the shoulder (keeping a straight line along
the ice) and look ahead, using the cars headlights to pick out
potholes and ice a hundred yards ahead. Then hop back into the
road after they pass. That's when you can't even reflect on how
your obituary will read or will they charge the driver, you just
focus.

Walk into the packed airport looking like a terrorist in full
combat gear. With the clicking of the cleats, and a big black
messenger bag with blinking lights. Get the car, go to the
grocery store - still look like freak, then home, 11:45 pm.
Up at 6:30, wife to work, kids to school, clean kitchen, start
laundry, run errands, pick up kids, pick up wife, make dinner,
clean up dinner, kids to bed. It's 8pm, my day off is over.
There's an ice storm coming in overnight, and work in the
morning.



Note to self: Maxwell House is not even good on the
first drop, spend $3 more on the next can of coffee.




We have a new foster dog. Missy is out, now comes Buster. I realize
that Bella is really more my speed, fat & lazy & goofy. The perfect
combo. Buster is like a howling hound mixed with great dane and fed
speed & hard alcohol. Standing on the dinning table. Standing on top
of sleeping kid on couch - no longer sleeping. Shoot me.




I wondered if I would sell any photographs. The New Beginnings show
was this last Friday. Nothing sold in the last show, and there were
a couple that I really felt good about, and a couple half assed ones
that somehow made it in. I thought about pricing, and went on the
point:

the market sucks, no one has as much extra income, and it's
pompous to think that a simple photograph is worth hundred(s).
Cover my costs and I'll build up my work, but nothing sold. So do
I charge triple and act like those other asses?


This new show had a smaller turn out, and instead of the whole
family & kids friends, just my daughter & I went. I can't really
think of how many times it 's been just her & I. We'll need to do
that more, same for my oldest son, more one on one time. A work
sold on opening night which is always a good feeling. It was a
good night. Now if the rest of the year can follow that night.

Time to mount up the Nokians to ride to the gallery, then off to
ride to the transmission shop to FINALLY get the van, so the family
can get around, and I can ride my usual routes. One resolution is
to ride as little as possible in the suburbs and country, especially
at night with their lack of street lights.