Thank God You See Me the Way You Do

The week before I left Philadelphia the rain came down in sheets and drowned the city parks. Channeled rivers turned to quickly moving currents of wood and trash. people came out from their houses and rode bicycles downtown to watch all the water spill over the dam’s sides. i forget, here in the city, nature is not so tame as these bridges and cement make it out to be. i had forgotten its delightfully fierce power I say to myself and take a picture.

The day after that, I left philadelphia. my work moved me to the north carolina mountains. They are old friends. My grandfather.. My blue car and three steaming trucks barrel up its sides. Wheel brakes burn and give off rubber thick smells reminding my of old cars and my dads persistent advice. I chuckle at my still present desire to harness these hills in picture frames.

Its late summer. The mountains are full of screech owls and troubled youth this time of year. I have settled into week long work schedules and drinking strong gritty coffee on an empty stomach in the mornings. I talk with students about letters. outkast. family. cocaine. wishes. I am still telling bedtime stories and finding bits of time to read Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner.
My memories are, most often, tangible images and my attempts to yoke the delicious labyrinthh of landscapes, faces, and materials I have known inside film canisters and developing solution. I cannot take pictures in the woods and there are no mirrors to record our faces. my memory is unused to working off such penetrable, flimsy evidence and so, at times, refuses to draw my particular and present landscape into it.In remedy of this, I am taking more pictures of faces during my off shifts and discovering new ways to catch the rest of my life in baskets. I bought an old upright piano with dark green insides for my room and a big straw sun hat to wear when I write. One addition to my tactile memory is the photograph above. The CVS attendant left it out of the hardcopy role with the exclamation, "I didn't develop a few of them. I don't know if you were trying to be artsy or if it was a mistake." I only came upon the photograph yesterday and will leave its intended purpose or lack thereof to the reader's discretion.