And at the wire it’s….Tahoe…cut to visual recap.

Ah yes well life is back to This Old Port Town and I’m sitting snug and soundly in the familiar comfort of my living room watching winter ignore the fact that I heartily celebrated the Vernal Equinox but only a couple of days ago (regardless of what those bastards at the Weather Channel try and tell you, March 21 was and always will be 2005’s mark of the equinox most vernal).

I’ve been thinking a bit about chronicling my life, not just here on this blog but in the much more expansive and less read version of it all that I do in countless scratched up note pads, sketchbooks and tucked away bar room napkins. I am suddenly presented with the excessive desire to wax poetic or glib gibberish audible recorded tales of how I see the world, how it’s making me feel, what all of the little nuances that are making those things come to light are and describe them all as accurately and poignantly as possible. I wonder if this is not really living life, instead stepping back to record it instead of standing there being the thing that’s recorded.

But, and to be the smallest bit conceited here I suppose, if a person can relate things from their insides that can bring others to see what it all must have been like on the outside, then they have a bit of a duty to react when the passion comes over them.

Hah! Yeah, okay. Just like motorcycle gangs have a duty to kick ass first and take names later.

Anyway, here are some photos of Tahoe. All of the above came from the idea that from my recordings and last few posts from out there it would seem that I didn’t have a good time. I certainly did. But while I was living it up I wasn’t taking time out to scribble scrabble away my time but instead was dipping my head in the thick blue sky and water all around me. It was only the intense strangeness of the greenest leaves that had me desperately seeking solace in the worldly widest of webs.

Faces made of tunnel, stone and silver crystal clingy ice….

Plantlife revisited.

Black & Ice and the Wind Chimes that make us all so obviously unaware of what we’re missing out on when we miss out on it all.

TV Santas would kill for snowflakes like this.

From no snow to this in a matter of moments…

Perching Western Consequences

Forward Movement Silhouettes

Ponderingosa

Feet on you shining timeless…

Soup kitchen rocks…

Up Next: Every day I wake up...