Tag: magical thinking

Wayfaring Stranger

… and speaking of Red Dead Redemption (as we did in yesterday’s post), here is a music video done within that game, a spooky hymn covered by the Longest Johns (4:09):

The video’s YouTube page says:

“Red Dead Redemption 2 is a superb and beautiful game, and we wanted to get closer to the action… so we put ourselves in it!! All footage (other than us) is captured in-game in our first foray into virtual production.

“We had an idea of how we wanted to film a video for ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ a while back, and this seemed like a perfect way to capture it.”

A Visitor

Thump: the window behind me said softly. I swivelled in my chair to find a bemused pigeon on the sill. It was unharmed as it had not flown directly into the window so much as it had stumbled against the pane when landing. It was not alarmed by my movements but was instead strangely curious about this unnatural transparent barrier.

More of this human magic, it grumbled as it peered into the room, first with the left eye then with the right. There’s no way of telling; there needs be some warning, it pondered as it continued to stare: left-right, left-right as if it were B.F. Skinner’s wind-up automaton.

When I reached for my camera, it had enough. You’ll not steal my soul with that contraption, it said as it flew into the maya. The less of a trace that I leave, the sooner I’ll be free. I think I know you and perhaps we’ll meet again, outside of time, if you know what I mean.

I did not, but we left it at that.

— Yip

dsc07612a
Photo by Roman

Novel Manhole

Not all sewers drain into waste treatment plants: this one, for example. It drains into a waterway, though I don’t know if it is Lake Michigan or one of the Chicago River branches. As this is located on Glenwood Avenue, I suspect Lake Michigan. “Dump No Waste,” the manhole cover advises passing opportunists and it illustrates its point with fish images. I wonder if the message at all works or are they oblivious?

Once upon a time I tripped and fell upon a manhole cover while running for a bus. To my relief, I was not run over by the bus, but my shoulder took the impact. It was also a relief that the wildly colorful bruise was not embossed with the legend for the Neenah, Wisconsin, foundry but instead was shaped like the state of Illinois, so clearly that one hardly needed to squint to see it. Which is to say it was more distinct than most found religious images, but if it signified anything then I don’t know what it was.

Sky

living with grace and glory

I don’t believe that I’ve mentioned how much I’m pleased with having a broad view of the sky from my new apartment. It’s really only the southeast quadrant but compared to my previous three addresses, it seems both generous and accessible. I’ll settle for a view of that storm that hit me, after the fact; after all, I’ve settled for so much less in the past.

But that does come with a problem in storytelling, illustrating, photographing. No matter how unique each morning becomes, it’s really the same old story: the sun comes up in a blaze of glory. You thought evil could be astoundingly mundane? Well, grace and glory can seem to be the same old same old as well.

My temporary solution to this is stew. Let’s toss into a single post a selection of dawn photos from the past six months. It’s a never ending tale and these are but random episodes. No matter the sequence of photos, it’s the same old tale of love and morning.

Click on any photo to enlarge it.

Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
dawn over Loyola. Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
Gloria! Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
Photo by Roman.
dawn over Loyola. Photo by Roman.
morning dew. Photo by Roman.
Contrails and airplanes. Photo by Roman.

Though I have to admit: living among the tops of trees does provide a different perspective on lightning and wind.

Her Mistress’ Foot 2

again

2001-019a
Photo by Roman

Tell me now…
Tell me now…
Am I out of my mind?
Tell me now,
Tell me now:
What does that even mean?
Where is my mind
That I should ever be out of it?
A garden yard delimited
By posts or lamps or walls or trees?
Reason for humans, boxes for cats but boundaries for dogs?
Like the spirit dog (the one above)
(Who remains Anonymous)
Began its visit
By marking a liminal post
Like signing a guest book…
It sniffed around then said
The title seemed a tad hierarchical.
I allowed that it could indeed be so read
Yet it was tagged with “love” and “dogs”
But maybe taste and smell and je ne sais quoi
Would have done as well?
That too, agreed the spirit
As it faded from sight.
Only a slight wisp of drool
Remained for the moment
longer.

–Yip

(Image first posted May 9, 2019.)

Where a Pyramid Meets the Sky

dsc07028a
Photo / graphic by Roman.

Don’t know why but I got to thinking this morning about Roky Erickson so that’s what I was thinking this image was / is about; that’s what I meant, anyway… Listen this cover of “If You Have Ghosts” by John Wesley Harding and the Good Liars off the Erickson tribute album, Where the Pyramid Meets the Eye. Then it should all make sense. Or if not… then as much sense as it’s ever going to make: