garrison beau scott

it seems sometimes everything exists so i can go out walking with my camera.

the idea, albeit it a very abstract one, of knowing where you’re going, yet having never been there, excites me to no end. call it foreshadowing, deja vu, transcendental tourism, or just good ol’ fashioned out of body experience. whatever it is, sign me up.

of course, for the ticket to be punched in the first place, an insane amount of freedom is required. i only use the qualifier insane, as most people would label it as such, having never been able to experience the kind of freedom i am talking about. for shame.

but that brings up another matter completely. why society as a whole seems to be complacent to just see the one option when it is plain for others to see, that there are an infinite amount of directions for us to travel. is it freedom, the fear of such, or is it the opposite of freedom? are we free? are we able to fully choose left, right, or straight ahead?

of course those choices come with repercussions, some of which remain hidden until it’s too late and accountability becomes as interwoven into the experience as the joy of the moment itself, but that’s just part of the freedom, and the reason for any of it to begin with. and even the idea of giving up freedom, is in a way, a freedom in and of itself.

the ultimate in freedom, i feel, manifests itself in the eternal wanderer. gypsy, bedouin, or homeless. there’s just a lot less romanticism in being hungry and cold. why do i bring any of this up? maybe it’s because today i choose to go left. which could be interpreted as the opposite of right. as in the direction or the moral choice. you dear reader, are free to choose.

not only is the title of this post a pretty good song by the damned, it’s also a pretty cool verb. as the solstice break comes to an end, it’s time to put that verb into play.

to quote beavis, butthead, jimi hendrix, and that one idiot in a crowded theater, “Fire!”

i like roaring fires, down comforters, wool sweaters, beanies, and hot coffee as much as the next, but there’s something to be said about bitter, sharp-type exhalation, holy shit cold. the way it tends to cut through everything, even the filters of your mind and focus you in on the feeling of being cold.

but it should be said i took this from inside, beanie on, hot coffee in hand.

it’s winter; things, people, dreams, resolutions… they all die. why then do i feel so alive?

is it this pink enemy remix? my children’s maniacal laughter from downstairs as they play with their christmas toys? the freedom solitude brings at 2 in the morning, ensconced in headphones?

whatever it is, i’m not questioning its motives or methods, just praying it hangs around for a good long while.

another call to all the blessings that have fallen at my feat these past years.