Wind waves to skinned suits, with wind’s arms waving and rocks wave back. A truth told in the waving wind, truth smacks of ship talk. Shipped out, truth doubts turn downtown, lusting proof, longing for scale, a suit, a tongue-dance, a simple crawl. The rocks talk of wind sound, slight and slow scratching of sand-sea-time. Scratches etched on glass, on corroded surfaces of sight, on sediment sandwiched in slow reach.
September 08th, 2009
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February 04th, 2009
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The fastest movement available to the human body is the saccade, the eye in rapid motion. We perceive the world through constant vibrations, ceaselessly pulsing tiny muscles of the eye. These ocular oscillations construct the light-write micron-map of the world, sending imperceptible signals to rods and cones that are only able to register states of change. This constant movement allows us to consider a static image, without which fixity resolves itself in blankness. At the resolution of the micron-map, we either are in constant motion or are immersed in nothingness. |
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January 08th, 2009
+++++++++ Fig 3: Classification of body profiles. (For explanation see text)
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October 07th, 2007
Lane,
Tell me about the photo you took near Gallup. That’s a piece of work. Is it for real? Maybe it’s a skinwalker. You know about them, right? I used to hear some weird stories when we were a little closer to Four Corners. One that I can vaguely call up had to do with an out of the way dirt road, a late night drive, and a human/cat sort of hybrid that ran alongside the car for a while, on the edge –where the headlights met the shadow. And then disappeared. There’s a whole nother tradition of ghosty stuff down south of us in El Norteno but I haven’t heard as many of those tales. I like the idea of these shadowy souls floating around though, like a lot of things I’ve never personally experienced, I place it in my “i don’t know file.”
Anyhow cool stuff.
Yours,
Pete
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