With any luck at all, one day soon I hope to be able to shoot sports in the back country, to find the high places where the runners go.
I had forgotten to put on my glasses – the stars appeared to be surrounded each individually by pinwheels like wheels “a rollin’ way in the middle of the air.” I stopped, looked up in surprising wonder and bid goodbye to the migraine and welcome to what might be a better day.
In my memory, every year clouds covered the noonday sun, as I felt the chill of fall as we packed up and headed home to the city.
Mostly because I like them; they are among my favorite images, they capture my long lived sense of ghosts in the aftermath of activity – the moment when a favorite place is out of season. Where all the guests go home.
The last of the dog walkers hurries out of the park. Slick tells me there are a lot of guys like this guy. That one always makes it a point to talk to Slick, he says. “These guys think that a couple bucks and some hipster shit make them part of the scene. They don’t have a fuckin’ clue.”
Shortly after I got out of treatment, I arranged through a friend to get Jacques the money I owed him. I never heard from him although my friend said that Jacques had smiled when he took the money and asked if I was doing okay, and when she said I was, he shrugged as if to say I’m glad it worked.
Not enough sleep and some bad juju brought me to this tarmac meditation on my long road to here. It took me a very long time to realize that where my father was concerned, most of what was wrong between us was on me. He was a good man, reserved, thoughtful and wryly funny, disciplined and thorough.
I needed to get outside and breathe. When I came back I wrote the post, and as you can see it had less to do with walking and my physical improvements and more to do with the grinding reality of Tarmac Meditations in my life.
Every now and then I take my camera and shoot what’s around me; the images that follow are what I have seen with a camera in my hands. The other day I shot a local race event in progress. These images are markers of recovery, small celebrations of renewal – I think. What do you think?
There is something out there.
It is more than nothing.
It has come to matter to me.