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On Our Way There and Back

Does photographic art reflect the personality of the photographer the way writing does for the writer?

Yes, I told my wife.

Then what does it say about me that I’m interested in dilapitated things.

The word is dilapidated. What do you think it means?

I don’t know.

There’s a hole in my duffle bag, said Jack.

There’s an actual hole in the fabric? asked my wife.

Yes.

Great.

I don’t think I want to know what it means. What if I came to some profound psychological realization? I wouldn’t want to take those pictures anymore. What do writers do?

Writers write to try and understand things that bother them.

Is it the same for musicians?

Yes.

Have you given any more thought to why I like taking pictures of old buildings?

No. But when I write things down, they cease being real, but instead things rendered to words…memories that are, have been, manipulated to fit a specific context. How dare you think I write to remember…I remember to feel…I write to forget.

What is this?

It’s sports.

I was hoping it was Car Talk.

 

 

 

4 Comments

  1. Joy wrote:

    I like these snippets of conversation. Delectible!

    Monday, December 1, 2008 at 7:38 am | Permalink
  2. Ben wrote:

    You come off as pretentious and presumptuous here. You should be more careful about that.

    Monday, December 1, 2008 at 9:57 pm | Permalink
  3. frank wrote:

    Being careless about rough drafts is what’s getting me back on the horse. Thanks for the feedback, though.

    Monday, December 1, 2008 at 10:37 pm | Permalink
  4. the musician wrote:

    I practice to enunciate my feelings. Carving every note from my mind and placing each on the vivacious crests of melodic waves. To perform is to forget. Driving your feelings so far into souls of the listeners they cease being your own and you are finally, finally free.

    Thursday, March 12, 2009 at 10:24 pm | Permalink

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