Just Wandering
Those days with no meaning or purpose, just seeing what the road will reveal is happiness. This process is infused in much of the work that appears on Scooter in the Sticks — the writing and photographs — are reflections of those experiences.
I photograph, write and post the results to better understand the journey I’m on — both the literal ones where the Vespa scooter moves through the world, and those trickier trips where my mind conspires to understand what the hell is happening to me. In either case, I’m a spokesman for myself and don’t pretend to offer much to anyone else.
While I accept a reader may find some value, I can’t claim to be able to answer any questions since I’m still struggling myself. If there is any ongoing lesson I might share it’s in the ongoing and relentless self inspection of motives, ideas and appearance.
Labels of navel-gazing and self absorption often surround these kinds of activities. I’ve always suspected they mask a terrible discomfort facing the possibility that one might discover they’re not the person they think they are. Myself, I have a long list of defects.
The camera provides a different kind of evidence. It reveals changes in the world around me that I’m too blind to see. Or when the camera is turned my way I can’t pretend I’m someone I’m not. The camera never blinks. I try to do the same.
Is that really me?
Seeking Oblivion
What is it that draws me down little paths and byways? As a kid I was always searching for evidence of something — the detritus left my others in places seen as acceptable locations for abandoning “stuff”. Decades later I ride my Vespa scooter down paths searching for something else, somewhere else, a different world, perhaps oblivion.
This ride, or at least this track through tick infested grass was a bad choice as the roots and rocks trounced my lower back with ample opportunities to bring bone and nerve together in a curse inducing manner.
I knew it was a bad idea, but sometimes, I just want what I want.
Crisp Days of Autumn Riding
While cold enough to have nearly all my cold weather gear on my back, save for the Gerbing electric gloves, I felt every warm ray of sunlight on my face as I rode along the winding roads that trace the entire region. I’ve been pushing myself to ride despite the mental resistance cultivated from my back.
When things get crazy the scooter makes things right, just hold on tight and see what I can see.
Perhaps this explains why I take the same pictures over and over again.
Let the Sun Shine In
I keep telling myself that I need to make videos. Short confessions on the road. If I were the stop at this location along Spring Creek would have yielded a groaning, labored commentary on fall sunlight and the fragrance of drying leaves as I struggled to stand erect after some miles astride the scooter.
Maybe I should make that video.
At this moment typing out these thoughts it’s really hard to know much at all. Two dogs and a wife sleeping quietly nearby. Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” plays in my head:
“So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?”
The clock just struck midnight. I should stop.
Go out to the garage.
Push the Vespa into the driveway. Go for a midnight ride.
Speaking for myself…
At an age when we’re encouraged to be mindful, being the opposite has advantages. My brain can dance around and over and through various ideas. Maybe the content of the dream I had last week will park in front of me. Maybe the location of that missing sock will come by.
Oblivion is the cherry atop the ice cream of the day.
You’re right about the opposite of mindful having advantages. That freewheeling state is a good place for me to — sometimes. Sometimes. I have to be careful I don’t end up far way not paying attention…
Seeking oblivion….to my mind, nothingness? That was what my mind thought was the definition of oblivion…so I looked it up:
Full Definition of oblivion. 1 : the fact or condition of forgetting or having forgotten; especially : the condition of being oblivious. 2 : the condition or state of being forgotten or unknown.
You’re seeking to be forgotten or to forget? You’ll not ever be forgotten by we who read your stuff. If you seek to forget, that’s another story.
Perhaps I’m using “oblivion” as a metaphor of escaping the shackles of responsibility. I just want to be free and unencumbered by the adult things required… It’s not about forgetting or being forgotten though.
Hmmm better speaking for one’s self rather than
hearing strange voices s telling you to do strange things!
,,,May you live in interesting times!
No voices yet. But some unwanted drives and desires. Not really the same though.
I am living in interesting times!
“We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fishbowl, year after year.”
Funny how often that song has gently barged in at certain points in my life. That’s not likely to end.
Even though I’ve done the video thing from time to time, my home medium is the still image (and frequently on film, at that). As much energy as it seems to take to make a photograph hinting at some internal truth – or consequence – of my thought process, attempting same via the moving image becomes a mess…unless it’s just me in front of the camera, and I’m not sure how much of me I can stand in that format. Your words and photos transmit a lot, and they’ve yet to bore me.
Running over the same old ground, what have we found?
First in photography, and then on the bicycle, I initially had an aversion to going back to places I’d been before. What would I experience that I hadn’t the first or even second time in a given place? Turns out the answer for me was “a lot.” Playing on the aphorism about not being able to step in the same stream twice, sometimes the road more frequently traveled can offer up a little surprise or two, for the eyes and other senses. As a result, every trip out is at least a little bit interesting, even if all I’m doing is running an errand.
I knew it was a bad idea, but sometimes, I just want what I want. Sometimes, that almost feels like a mantra.
That Pink Floyd song is persistent.
When I was in art school I made a lot of videos — almost to the point of abandoning my still work. I understand how it can become a mess. There are a lot of moving parts in video production if you want to have something simple, elegant and powerful. Not sure what I’ll ultimately do with video. I suppose the truth of the matter is nothing has surfaced requiring video to communicate. And since I don’t possess a native power of speaking or visually compelling appearance I’m working from scratch!
Over the years I’ve come to appreciate how little I see and how I can return over and over again to the same place and it seems unknown. IF, and only if, I’m open to that experience. In a rush that’s hard to achieve…