garrison beau scott

I dig the idea of a corner. It can be something to turn, a new route to investigate, a new future to redeem, a new point of view to gaze upon. It can bring two paths crashing together, causing spilt coffee, lost groceries, or soul mates. But I think that last scenario only happens in Hollywood “feel good stories of the year.”

The possibility, however, is there.

My Grandmother turned a corner a week ago today. For the better or for the worse, I guess depends upon which point of view you take on the after-life. I vote for the better, being the optimist I am, and knowing my Grandfather as I do (did?) I’m willing to bet he had the place all ready with some chocolates, roses and “Roll Out the Barrel” on the old phonograph. Maybe they’re in Paris, retracing the steps they took on their honeymoon. They have some catching up to do as it’s been 20 years since he left her side.

She was 87, lived a long life, survived everyone but her son, 5 grandchildren, and 6 great-grandchildren. She died in her sleep and knew she was loved by the ones she cared about. If only we all could be so lucky.

There’s a part of me that misses her immediately, and yes I’m sad. But there’s another part of me, that is in a way, happy, that it is over. Happy she has turned a corner and now sees a new path in front of her, one that doesn’t include doctors telling her what to do and what to take, a path that is limitless in scope, hopefully defined by her wildest dreams.

I’ll miss you Gaga.

Has there ever been, in the history of written language, a letter with such an unfair burden to carry? And for a language that can trace its roots back to the fifth century AD, it seems a might unfair that in eight short years, a singular letter could have its reputation sullied by such an obscene force.

I say it’s time to begin repairing the damage, to return the 23rd letter of our alphabet to a place of honor instead of the ass of a joke that’s run on way too long. And please,if your country allows it, by all means vote. It used to mean something here…

A shot across the bow of the S.S. Photography is Not An Art? No, not really. Though I will rally behind the argument in favor of my chosen medium’s inclusion into the realm of the high arts.

When the day is over, no matter the medium, it’s still about light and subject and composition. I don’t think you can escape that. Substitute tone/melody for light and music can be included in that set of rules.

Anything worth building needs a foundation.

There’s something cool about an airport. The world at your feet, the people coming and going. That being said, a train platform, even if it’s only a commuter rail like this one at an Oakland B.A.R.T. station is just as cool, if not more so for a few different reasons.

At the airport, for the most part, you get on a plane with everyone else, arrive at your destination with everyone else, and that’s that. Return your seat to the upright position. Unless you’re trying to make a connecting flight, and there’s not a lot of fun involved with that endeavor.

On a train, people come and go, it’s a much more organic flow of travel. Departures and arrivals happening simultaneously, you witness them, and become part of it. On a train, you can get up, change your seat, change your point of view and those who you share it with. On a train you can get off, have a look around and get back on. On a train you don’t have to take your shoes off to get on.

And there’s no way I want to go out into that cold day…though each time I catch a glimpse of my camera I can almost hear it begging to be taken for a spin. It’s just snowed here in Boston and the stuff is still white, but a shot of snow from last winter will have to do, as I am bound and determined to stay inside for at least a few more days. Not nearly the coverage we have now, as this was taken just as it began to fall, but you get the idea. You’ll have to, I ain’t going out there.

It’s too cold.