here we go again

We returned from New Zealand exactly three weeks ago today. Strange how it feels like so much longer, but when I look at the pictures (oh so many pictures), it feels like I could walk outside and hop into our Rustbucket to do it all over again. Except we don't own that Rustbucket, which is what Charrow aptly named the fifteen year old van we drove all over the south island of New Zealand. Anyway, I've had some trouble getting back here. At first it was the exhaustion of hiking somewhere in the neighborhood of 75 miles over the course of twelve days (the hiking didn't really start until we hit Tasmania) and the 24 hour trip home. Then I felt exhausted by work. Then I got better and better at being an internet zombie and simply giving in to the comfort of not showing up. Major advantages of not writing: more free time and less anxiety about flopping. But I've noticed that what I do with that free time verges on practicing for a zombie contest. Facebook, instagram, Facebook, email, Facebook, repeat. Searching for who knows what and getting very little return on the investment. I also noticed that the relief of not posting comes with a nagging sense of letting myself down. So here I am. Ready to flop and flail and feel like a dweeb in the name of creating art instead of molding away with my face glued to my phone. Prepare yourself for pictures, travel stories of varying degrees of interest and a neverending stream of bad haikus.

we suffered delays
welcomed hardships and scaled cliffs
fueled by sandwiches

picture: kid playing with the fountain wall at the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, AUS, March 2016, film, Leica M6

show up

Well, I'm home from the funeral marathon. Three different events across three days, which was a lot for me, so I can't even imagine how the immediate family must feel. The services were all in Ukranian, so I spent a lot of time watching the attendees and trying to catch the emotion of what was being said, but I had little clue as to what was actually happening. It's more about showing up than understanding the language. Today's service took place in a beautiful Ukrainian church that is built out of wood without the use of nails (so I've been told - I'm skeptical). At any rate, it's amazing, and oh so effing cold. My feet STILL haven't warmed up from sitting there for 90 minutes listening to the singing and watching the priest toss around burning ashes in a ceremonial metal holder that I'm sure has a name. The light in the church is incredible. There are small windows towards the ceiling that let in huge diagonal streams of light. Sadly, the light wasn't enough to keep anyone warm.

Now back to life on animal planet in which the cats roam around while the dog is gone and then he comes barging in the door from his evening walk yodeling because the orange cat didn't scramble out of the kitchen quite fast enough. And now for the short form:

cold toes and running
noses, crumpled tissues and
questions of what's next

picture: headstones at Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn, NY, fall 2011, film, Canon Tlb