Following the third year of a holiday letter comprised
of my (increasingly complex) life via a (increasingly complex) year-in-photographs, I
wondered what it would be like to join the great experiment of 365 days of photographs.
I'm not a photographer,
I'm a writer. I'm a visual thinker, and if ever there was proof that a photo is worth a
thousand words, it would be the story a photo tells me, or in this case, about me.
Follow me on this adventure, where I
learn about photography, my ability to record my life, my dedication to something (I've
never been known for doing anything everyday) in my posts. I've also discovered I'm
learning about time, the history of it, and the odd practice of recording it, measuring it,
turning it into something tangible, and I'll record these explorations in the sidebar.
As always, feel free
to say anything. My experiment is not a spectator sport.

June 10, 2009

June 10 2009 Strangeness and Self-Particularity

Today being midweek in the city, there is ample evidence that this is not a city. This is an overgrown town. On a Wednesday, at four in the afternoon, there is no traffic. On a Wednesday, there are parking spaces available right next to the front door. There's no one in the stores, no lines, no waiting. My little city isn't. But that's not the least of it. This town is odd. The tallest building for years was a bank, until it was usurped by the mammoth hospital wing going up. It's awkward and out of place, but very city-esque in appearance and size. To fly here you must take a propeller plane. You can leave your car doors unlocked. Well, I suppose you can leave them unlocked anywhere but traditionally it's a greater risk than it is here. This is definitely a town.

This morning I took my daughter to her first region-wide Girl Scout event, at a place across from the mall, where she played and worked at a fenced-in back-yard of the Service Center building, a yard surrounded by industrial and commercial lots. And she was perfectly safe. Then we tackled some back roads to the outdoor sports store, which is only accessible through these back roads. Then getting back onto the main drag, there, at the perpetual Fireworks store and across from the Sheriff's department and Courthouse, is our torpedo. Yes. Our city has its own torpedo. It's something we all know about, like the odd man who feeds the birds in a walking route around the city. I have no idea its origins or its purpose, or who painted it and mounted it, or who it belongs to. But there it is. Another oddity of our city.

Auto photo on a day finally sunny enough not to require a flash.

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