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endless search for enlightenment.

tucson. east, again. the Mission San Xavier del Bac. church on the left. wilderness on the right. in the center at the top of the hill …

ghost town II.

Tucson. No, you’re somewhere else this very early morning. The sun scratches at your eyes through your closed lids, and you lift your stunned sleep-grogged head from the steering wheel and discover you’re outside Ira’s Bar in Nara Visa, New Mexico. Fear and disorientation take hold because you don’t remember getting here. You live 650 miles away. Just a ways down the road, relatively speaking, in terms of the vast open spaces of the great Southwest. Distances aren’t so great here. So, take a deep breath, reach over and turn the key, fire up that engine, turn the heater on to wear large holes in the blanket of the cold of dawn clinging to you, and head Southwest for those short 650 miles and stop a little ways down the road, when you reach Tucson, Arizona. It’s going to be okay, there.

ghost town I.

Tucson… From there, it’s only about 650 hard miles NE across dry desert and mean hills to Nara Visa, NM (pop. about 112). Nara Visa is only about 100 miles from Tucumcari, NM, which was made famous by Lowell George, founder of Little Feat, in a tune about a hard-driving trucker who’d driven to “Tucson to Tucumcari, Tehachapi to Tonopah,” and was willing … to keep moving if you gave him enough weed, whites, and wine.. Nara Visa missed being in that song and becoming famous by being right next to Tucumcari,(you know … Tucson to Tucumcari and Nara Visa, Tehachipi to Tonopah) which it wasn’t “right by” by 100 miles. Just missed all that fame by a couple inches on a map, like most of us. This shot is of the SW wall of Ira’s Bar in the center of Nara Visa. Ira’s Bar is closed. Sadness. We will never be able to gather there and hoist a few. It would be so cool if we all did. We’d number more than the people of the town. We’d be our own mobile township.



Amber, my wife, saw this guy in a tree, about 20 feet from our deck out back … beautiful. pale yellow and black. as large as the length of your hand. I took a quick look at the camera setting, and he was gone.


yucca parade.

tucson, east. or new mexico. it’s happening there, too.

dog waiting outside church.

outside tucson. things happen there.

another day of the pumpkin.

tucson. things happen there. 

it’s what’s on my mind.

art doesn’t always have to be artful. sometimes, just bringing something pretty to the soul is enough.

outcome uncertain.

the desert decides.



no one can hear you scream in the forest.

imagine … you’re being all woodsie, walking the trail and thinking environmental-like, and smiling at the glory of nature that surrounds you, and then this drops on your head and begins munching.



the nurses all looked over me, as I was ill, in bed.

I posted this picture earlier this year on July 27. I ran into it again today, and my response to it was quite different. Previously, I had titled it, “Middle Age.” I was trying to make sense of the image, make it say something. This time, I found myself reflecting on who I am and my physical health (not great right now). Two different ways of seeing the same thing. From the same person. Nothing remains the same, I guess. Even meaning.

from chaos, a sublime order.

an interesting take on the traditional “U” shaped motel/apartment court. to the right, four modular additions of trailers, randomly selected apparently. at the back, what appears to be the last of the original brick buildings. to the left, some incomprehensible building used for unknowable things. and dead-center, a large trailer behind the tree. somehow, it works. it reaches uneasily in the mind to being artful.

the wide open road can lead to smaller places.

end of the road at the motel at the end of the road.

the “for sale” sign at the left pretty well tells it all. probably headed for demolition. but is the land even worth the cost of the demolition? now, eight months later, it would be interesting to see the resolution, if any.


Tucson, April, 2015.


Oregon coast, 2015: waiting on the tsunami.


Haystack Rock in the Pacific Ocean, outside Cannon Beach, Oregon.

stuck between a rock and a rock.

Amber and I were out on the coast this week. It’s funny, we had the power to see the sun on the right, left, or center of the two rocks, depending on where we chose to stand. I feel like a minor god.


child and grandmother.

hidden meanings.

Revisiting the Tucson area for a few images here.


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