Sunday, July 26, 2009

New Dawn, New Blog

NYC, August 6, 2006.


It was time.

I've had blogs in the past, which I'll keep active just for the sake of memories and old friends, but...I needed something new. Google-new.

To be honest, I haven't been keeping up with blogging in about...3 years? Roughly around the time I started grad school. In the past, my blogs were usually humorous (in my own mind) rants and worried soliloquies about being a student and my never-ending field work. My blogging adolescence. Fresh with uncomfortable grammar errors and acne scars. Not terribly proud of that stage, but it had to be lived.

This blog is wearing it's big-girl Google pampers though. It's going to talk about the geospatial technologies I'm working on (or hoping to work on), my freelance writing career (or lack thereof), some field and outback adventures, my efforts and reflections on recovering from a very chilling graduate school experience (at last, I have completed my master's), and my on-going work with the Oakland students and their pollution crusade.

I'll have my official website up soon, so I won't waste time on the background news. Suffice to say, each of these projects are in their seperate jars, bobbing blithely to different destinations.

In closing, a remembrance to christen the effort and honor the ominpresent vacancy of one beloved grandfather.

Aftermath

9 pm,
and the shoes are still warm,
of flesh and sun,
by the porch which has lost all it's moorings.
Above our heads: the cracks of little tile earthquakes,
and I'm still awake,
unsettled on wanting a cup of coffee.

The chimes are still dialing at their best,
to the sound of the world:
a dial tone, disconnected.
The casualties of erupting silence,
have put the burning mountains on hold.

Everywhere something to pick up,
A button thread, a root, a place.
But the sun itself has set too low,
and the stars have been lying to the compass.

Here: the last structure stands,
a passage of time erected.
And, yes yes yes,
we shall all live on:
in hour long minutes
waiting for the calls
of birds, long lost in the wind.

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