The Eagle, the Raven, the story…

The Eagle, the Raven, the story…

harassment.jpg

I suppose in a way that everything I write here is a story.

One story becomes another.

I used to preach to people about the nature of the journal and the journey, that is — everything string of experiences is about a journey, the journal then becomes a kind of receptacle; it’s the reliquary of experience. It’s a collage. But now that I’m writing both to the weblog at Girvin.com, as well as the journal here, it’s harder to work on the paper journal(s). And I used to do journals as thematic explorations, so there was more than one. I’ve been looking at those journals and decided that I need to go back. Yes, to the digital pages, flipping in the etheric

I was working in NYC this past week. Arriving, it was post rainstorm — and in the sweltering heat, that came shortly after, the air filled with that NYC character of fragrance that is part sweet, part rotting; certain sewer entrances bring forth the hellbound scent — that melange is NYC, past rain. And in any fragrance, there is the underlying note that could be the base of rot, dirt or feces, that is overlaid with the progressive melodies that meld that scent into something beautiful. So too, NYC. The scent of it.

I work in NYC for one week; then I work for Seattle another week. And I go back and forth, between them, working. It’s dizzying, because you are in one place, one afternoon, then another, in what seems like a heartbeat — and you are in a wholly new place. That’s precisely what I like about it, the sense of dislocation — and what can be found in the one or the other.

I met with a group this week about an eagle — and how that eagle could be made into something more precious. Better, more beautiful. Something to be newly loved and embraced by millions. But the person that was talking to me about that was wearing a shirt with a raven on it. So were talking about eagles, and looking at ravens.

Hence the picture, shot by my brother Rob. Everyone’s heckling someone else, these days. It’s all about turf — what are you doing here, what are you doing there; what’s your story?
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T | NYC

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