“I have always imagined that Paradise will be a kind of library” – Jorge Luis Borges

That quote has also been translated with “Heaven” in place of “Paradise.” I’ve loved the quote before I heard it. Powerful and widespread is the idea that death will open up a wider perception, or a greater sensory experience. Along the way, I have hoped that “Heaven” will mean that I get to see the origin of the universe. Alternately, there have been times I really wanted the afterlife to mean a lot of really great sex with my choice of partners. Or, the hope that I get a birds-eye view to see what my friends and enemies say and do at the news of my demise has also seemed a fitting last wish. I believe our expectations for Heaven are always a little laughable and irrational.

Lately, though, I do have one concrete hope for what happens when I unite with the universal consciousness after I die — that’s to know what dogs are really thinking.

Play it: “Move It On Over” – Hank Williams

(The photo of Peri is from Olga, my new old lo-fi toy pinhole film camera)

I had a dream last night.

In the dream I was part of an underground movement that realized we were all in some Matrix-style immersive system of total oppression.  I was sending messages to sympathizers in the future using instructions they sent.  The directions involved drawing a microphone onto a piece of paper in a very specific way — and if you did this you could speak into it and people in the future could hear you.

Whatever powers that be found out about this and sent comedian Denis Leary to persuade me to stop doing this. He went about persuading me by walking up to me and shooting me in the head.

I was down, but somehow not dead. After a few minutes of unconsciousness, I woke up alive.  Knowing I didn’t have long to live, I found my friends in the underground to give them the final message.  I saw myself in the mirror, with a big chunk blown out of my head. It was kinda of gruesome. I’m not sure of Leary had taken the plans for the special microphone, but they were gone and I knew I had to get a message to the future anyway. So, I set out to draw a microphone of my own design to somehow get the crucial information out before I died.  Somehow, I had a revelation in how the microphone technique worked and was able to draw one that crackled and worked allowing me to tell the future that Denis Leary had killed me. My comrades in the underground started to see me as some sort of messiah because I wasn’t dying. I felt powerful.

That was the end of the dream.

Song of the Day: “Back In Time” – Huey Lewis and the News

Listen now: “Blacknuss” – Rahsaan Roland Kirk

“The piano has fifty-two white notes, thirty-six black notes. On this tune we feature nuthin’ but the thirty-six black notes.” – Rahsaan Roland Kirk, Blacknuss

The first thing I did when I got my Mamiya was drag it out at night to Venice, CA. I shot some poorly-metered snaps in the dark. This is a rad building that has a hostel and a bar/restaurant (Danny’s Deli). Since this pic was taken, a new contact, Miscellaneous Bill, has helped be understand metering a lot more. I’m not sure it could have helped this photo, as a proper exposure would have then required a tripod.

This pic, as is, made Flickr’s “Interestingness” archives. I guess the minimalist blacknuss resonated with a few viewers. It was still more accidental than anything.

Black and white. Film. I’m getting deeper in.

Ripped from today’s headlines:

Play this: “Lost In The Supermarket” – The Clash