Saturday Morning, 7:30 A.M. or So

The colors vary according to the seasons, but even in the winter, 

they are rich and compelling. The Speedway takes care 

of the Coke Field, mowing it regularly and cleaning up trash.

But stuff gets thrown in the creek, gathering just behind 

me against a pylon sticking out of the water.

All this color, of the sort that inspired the weavers of

long-ago tapestries. All this beauty from

a fucking drainage ditch.

I did hit the "Auto Contrast" button in Photoshop, but that was it.

 The color was all there, if you took the time to wait for it.

My response to question 83.

365 Days Apart

I thought I was finished with my book, but I wasn't.

 I'd replaced a number of my pictures because the originals 

weren't of sufficient quality and re-wrote the captions to match. 

I've been expecting a payment that would allow me 

to pay for the remaining pictures. It hasn't arrived. 

In the meantime, contracts have been rewritten to change 

the invoices so we can get our pictures. It's not hard, 

but it is a pain in the ass. I want to be out taking pictures. 

The top picture was taken November 10, 2010, while 

the second was taken November 10 of last year.

Fiery Bling

I've started collecting stand pipes, at least those that provide an 

opportunity for a bit of interesting composition. 

Looking down on these fixtures shows their red enameled tops, 

beautifully set off against the brass-colored hardware.

The chains on the caps remind me of a woman I saw years ago 

in the infield at the Speedway. She had pierced her nipples

and had a chain running between the two. Argh!

The Water Has Ghostly Ribs

As it came out of the downspout, rainwater produced some foam,

 creating rib-like pictographs, ethereal and ephemeral,

both in their composition and existence on the water's surface.

Bull Shit or Fertilizer?

Well, the seeds have been planted that will determine 

whether the United States remains a government of the PEOPLE, 

by the PEOPLE, and for the PEOPLE.

On Wednesday, we will know if the fertilizer being 

spread is nurturing to the population as a whole or 

toxic shitt in an expensive suit, foisted off on

gullible voters by the Koch brothers and Karl Rove.

Apparently, the people of my state have rejected the bull shit

of a misogynistic ideologue running for Senator, only to select 
the sleazey used car salesman running for President

whose opinions reflect the wishes of whomever is funding 

his campaign. I haven't ever applied for a passport; 

I should probably do so should he get the office.

The bastards have bought off Congress as well

as the Supreme Court. If they managed to have bought

the POTUS, the people will never get their

government back. 

Textured Tuesday: Order/Disorder

The construction workers have nearly completed work on the new overpass 

and exits near my home. There are crosswalks marked by brick pavers

verging on the asphalt pavement, where anarchic gravel appears to have over-run

the machine-like precision of the raised dots on the bricks.

Nekkid

What I enjoy most about this picture is the bright blue 

edging around the leaf, created by the sky's 

reflection in the water.

I went out today, camera in my pocket, as usual,

but the day was gray all around, leaves

matted into brown carpets on the sidewalks.

The poor trees, tall as ever in the park,

looked as though they were huddled together,

their limbs shivering in the chilly breeze

from their nekkidness.