Out of the pot, into the pan

Have been home for three days now, and likely another three away from finishing all my post-production from the prior 47 days. To say I'm running on fumes is an understatement impossible to properly quantify.

China, Singapore, and Madrid were all blurs... China being the low-point considering the complete and total communication ban in light of the Tienanmen anniversary (read: no email, YouTube, Google, Facebook), and the final weekend in Madrid as the high-point. Thank you Plaza Major.

It's ironic that I had been counting down the days until I finally get to settle back at home and enjoy the summer without having to get an another plane, but then, when has Plan A ever gone according to Plan A?!!

At least this time Z and Lora will get to join me as we board the plane together, which we'll be on in exactly a week, bound for a few weeks in Toronto. Despite my brother's fairly strong sales pitch, even a week ago there was no convincing me we would make the trip this year. That said, parenthood puts things in a whole new perspective:

Just as there isn't anything I wouldn't do for my daughter, I realize more than ever the sacrifices my own mother has made for me over the years. If it's her wish to see her grand daughter, then who am I to deny?

And so the whirlwind continues....

37 down, 10 to go!

Doha, Qatar, Day 37

Departure day!!!! I decided to celebrate my last night with a proper steak and a few pints. Oh, the luxury:)) It's amazing how, after two weeks of drinking almost nothing but bottled waster, 3 pints of beers has me feeling like a ninth grader doing beer bongs in the high school bleachers. The euphoria of the subsequent buzz was probably not well served given the strangely sleepless night (and stupid facebook posts) that has followed, but considering I still feel well enough rested, so worth it!

Despite my glee at leaving this place, I do have to admit that I feel a shameful sense of missed opportunity here. Given that this place might as well be on the other side of the galaxy, there are no doubt photo opportunities here seeped in exotic tradition beneath the desert sands and Gucci veils I have yet to even sniff. I could survive cost of living for a little while, but that heat?! From that heat, there is no compare, and no escape.

No escape that is, until 2:00 pm today when I board the plane to Guangzhou!!

Stranger than Fiction

Day 19,  Prague airport.

I suspect some things may just never come easy. Saying goodbye to Z and Lora has to be pretty close to the top of that list. The 2 days I've had to reset back in Prague after the States has done wonders to break up this assignment, but is also serves as a painful reminder of all that I'm missing on the road. It's pretty intense that, as someone who has usually had a pretty easy time bidding farewell, I can't help but feel like a sobbing mess inside when it comes to my own flesh and blood. Such, I have learned, is the bond of parenthood.

To compound the emotions, the timing of my arrival in Bangkok couldn't have come at a more precarious time. As of two days ago, the Thai military has declared Martial Law in a coup designed to overthrow the government, which appears to have been successful. What exactly will be waiting for me, along with the Thai people, remains to be seen. Curfews have been imposed on all citizens, and all schools have been declared closed at the time of this entry. The nervous curiosity tingles through my body as I begin to wonder how this will all play out.

And in a true stroke of truth-is-stranger-than-fiction, my subsequent destinations do little more to soothe a wary soul. Qatar, located smack dab in the middle of an area in the Middle East that continues to be affected by some deadly respiratory disease, MERS, will be my next, and longest stop. Then assuming I get through Bangkok and Doha OK, I just hope Guangzhou will be far enough removed from the terrorist attacks in China that claimed the lives of almost 40 people less than a week ago. The carrots at the end of the stick are a day in Singapore and a weekend in Madrid before I see myself finally return home.

26 more days, and an infinite kaleidoscope of the unknown between this airport and home.

20 to Tulum

Looking back at what is almost the end of the year, I would say that expression seems to come in waves. Art, music, prose, and even inspiration all need their time in the spotlight to evolve. The revolving door, through which they often arrive unannounced, is always open to the next muse, whomever she may be.

For now, it's nice that she has returned to the page.

Looking ahead, I can't help but wonder what opportunities will appear once we switch time zones for warmer climates:))

Would be awesome to run into Clarence and Alabama if they're still sharing the same coast. You never know;) The last time I was in their neck of the globe, little Elvis was only 8. He' must have 2 decades on him by now!

Oh, como pasa el tiempo;)!

Pause, Exhale, Reset. Next?

It's so nice to have a little free time again and go out to walk around with the camera and simply explore and observe freely. The brief time "off" from my commercial work has also been great to re-evaluate just what I'm doing with my career and where I want to go from here.

There's still so many more questions than answers, but happily the 3 Monkeys will be on a plane to Mexico in 24 days, where I suspect a couple months on a beach will help shed some light on just where to go from here.

In the meantime, a small sample of a December afternoon in Old Town Square, Prague....

Tension Rising

This idea of Truth is like a record skipping in my head.

One voice says, perhaps the Truth is happening behind doors I don't know even exist while I preen myself blindly in front of some two-way mirror. Maybe it's so beyond all of us, that we will have to one day tell our kids when asked, only Google knows.

It's easy to forget that the truth is beyond the realities of our tiny bubbles, but after all, how many truths can one truly handle, when perhaps it is only one or two that matter most?

We have seen artists enlightened enough to prove that sometimes only fiction can reveal real truth, thereby blowing the definition of truth down a whole other rabbit hole... and drunken debacle no doubt;)

After all this week's midnight walks and missed tram stops, the crescendo of voices have come to the unanimous conclusion that an artist can also use the truth to create fiction, and how dramatic it may be when set free...

Blind Eyes, White Lies & the Three Truths

I love pub-induced debates that drunkenly stumble down verbal spirals on things like the theoretical differences between reportage and. documentary. Three inebriated photographers waxing poetic can be a very amusing, if not impassioned, thing.

In regards to the matter, I don't recall who said it, but his quote remains, "There are 3 truths: your truth, my truth, and the truth." Even looking at my work, I think it's pretty obvious which truth I'm prone to. The hardcore and the haunted can have all the other stuff.

In the meantime, bar stool semantics can continue to split hairs on the same head, while the only difference that matters in my eyes, is the most beautiful divide between that which aims to captures reality, and that which aims to defy it.

It would appear, my dear, that I am stuck between the two:)

P

This message is brought to you by the fine makers of Krušovice, or something equally tall, cold, and yummy.