Our dreams, scattered
amidst our memory, last night
or the one before.
The dream, the day
the music that plays
in the coffee shop.
It is all noise
cluttering the silence
we think we want to hear.
original content and images ©j.g. lewis
A thought du jour, my daily breath includes collected and conceived observations, questions of life, fortune cookie philosophies, reminders, messages of peace and simplicity, unsolicited advice, inspirations, quotes and words that got me thinking. They may get you thinking too . . .
I seem to spend more time reviewing the camera manual than I do shooting with the damn camera.
With my new camera, about six months ago, I have already enjoyed many hours capturing the sights and my surroundings at all hours of the day. There are several images I’ve created over the months, of both people and places, that I’m especially proud of.
I make an attempt, as often as I can, to practice a craft I have spent much of my life studying.
But I want to learn more.
I continue to establish what has often been trial-and-error proficiency in the craft, and art, of photography. It is what I do, and have done.
It is about finding value in what you do and how you live.
Involve yourself in what you can, find the lessons or the learning as you go, in everyday experiences. It becomes a rewarding challenge as you broaden your interests with a new topic, or focus deeply on what gives you pleasure
Not everything is immediately enjoyable, but with a concrete focus you might see greater possibilities.
There are a handful of albums that signified a change in music in the late ‘70s. Many of those albums were British, but you could hear an immediate response — even revolution — from a select few American bands.
Television was one of those bands, and Marquee Moon was one of those definitive records.
You didn’t hear the music on the radio, not in the middle of the Canadian prairies, so I listened to it intently on the stereo at home.
In the years that followed, I could hear the influence of Television’s singer, guitarist and principal songwriter Tom Verlaine on other bands of the time; even on the radio. I still hear it now.
Tom Verlaine passed away yesterday at age 73.
I'm like a pencil;
Still I write.
is a writer/photographer in Toronto.
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Nothing is closer than it appears,
anxiety reminding me of threadbare fears,
debt and delusion won’t find me here;
night driving takes it away.
I do not look back, but glance
at what I’ve passed, headlights meet my eyes
at the mirror, time has lapsed,
rear view explains I won’t see them again.
From where to there, somewhere,
then back again. I drive.
Beyond the highway, white lines, traffic signs,
eyes align, taking it in and ignoring it all.
If you can see past the sunset
you will always believe
life sorts itself out at any speed.
Streetlights shed halogen haze,
bleary-eyed travellers flowing either way.
Cars, end to end. Hypnotic blend,
eyes fixed, eyes focused, straight ahead.
Night driving leads me away and returns,
again. Depending on the view.
Spit-second living, rarely comprehending.
Where is everybody going; not always home,
not always knowing. Destination uncertain,
we are all passengers
of our own accord. Mistakes,
complications and reparations.
It’s taking and giving and letting it flow.
Driving. Night has no secrets.
Night always knows.
© 2018 j.g. lewis