268 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/18

268 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/18 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Man loaded down with bags of hope, buckets of paint for colouring his walls and worn out shoes from long walks through-out the lowlands. Man carries his struggle with a bent back and weary eyes. He knows there’s light at the end of the tunnel, he’s been told so for so many years, it’s written in the scriptures, prophesies have inscribed truth in visions upon his brain. Man has a purpose upon the stairway to heaven, songs have been written in gold, guitar licks have been immortalized.
The sun is sailing west, the crimson flames are wavering in the breeze across the horizons of the seas. I’m a man here from the archives stretching along the avenues, bent around the bends towards a promised paradise. I’m here free chained to the genetics of the future, strolling along the beach in a holiday.
Mexico, the ancient land of remote civilizations sprouting out of the sands along this prehistoric shore. I love this place, it’s magic for the stranded man inside.
Image circa 1977

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Patrick Wey

267 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/17

267 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/17 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
When you’re a street photographer you have to take some chances. Not everyone wants their photograph taken and you don’t always know that until the shutter has clicked. I have been in a few situations where i was lucky to get out unbeaten. That’s the nature of the career. Today is totally different with so many snapping images from their phones or their larger cameras which makes it easier on the one hand and less unique on the other. This man was not happy about my decision to capture him for some of his own reasons. He’d be gone by now. His story is not known. A broken wrist, an injured arm. Someone knows about him somewhere. We fade into the dust, no matter who we are. Some believe in various shades of afterworlds but those are all theories no matter how much evidence you want to state as proof. Me, it doesn’t really matter what i believe about all that. There is only one thing i could say that might be absolutely certain and that is that it is all ultimately a mystery and there ain’t anything for certain. But as far as certainty goes there are numerous conclusions necessary to get us by for our daily bread. I’m certain i took this picture, i remember that moment and the eerie feeling i got with this look that pierced my soul. Somehow this moment is encoded, somehow but no doubt it is shifting, rearranging the moment, moving into the dust of time also. Life is a paradox, or is it?
Image circa 1977

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Patrick Wey

266 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/16

266 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/16 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The main zocalo square in Mexico City. You can see the historic cathedral in the background where Pope John visited and in fact i managed to photograph him as he passed by in his open vehicle carriage along with shots of the event itself, the people, the frenzy, in that following year. There was always a crazy number of volks-wagon bugs on the smog scented tar of the city streets. I felt quite comfortable in the excitement of the noice and architecture, painted in sounds of spanish floating about. I was young, full of adventure and inquisitive about everything. I carried camera gear wherever i went and felt obligated to document anything i could. I am not sure why, some passion rising up from the heart into the brain and once the mind caught a glimpse of what it could do, i was hooked, had to capture every move this world made. Nothing stood in my way, i would have gone anywhere. I tried to get work for Vogue, Time, National Geographic and would have gotten work for Vogue if i had stayed in Mexico, even National Geographic liked my portfolio especially shots i got of a staging of the crucifixion of Jesus in some little out of the way mountain town later on that year. Definitely there were opportunities in Mexico that i would never have gotten in NYC and believe me, because i tried. The competition was staggering and it is even worse today, i am sure.
I traveled in and out of the neighbourhoods of the city, across the land, the desert, the coast and fell in love with that spanish tainted country. I got a job teaching english downtown in a large institution and smelt the aroma of the cities air for a year.
I married a señorita, not for marriage but to get her into canada, though i thought we’d make a good couple i never conformed to the institution for any confirmation for anything. I don’t need some institution to determine whether i am married or not. I adopted the anti-establishment with a firm understanding of its hypocrisy years before and i wasn’t about to change my stance then or now, for the most part. Rosa is still a close friend and lives in canada but we dismantled the bed years ago.
It takes a certain talent to be a good street photographer, these were my early years, testing the tension of the people on the streets, seeing what i could do, building my love for the many faceted aspects of becoming a photographer, a label, an artist possibly, a writer maybe. That was then.
Image circa 76 or 77

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Patrick Wey

265 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/15

265 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/15 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
On my way to Mexico at the moment. A place called San Patricio. I believe i was named after it minus the Saint. It’s on the Pacific side and like everyone i am looking forward to the sun, the sand, the water, the salty air and the interaction with the locals. We’re there for a month. Possibly i’ll have more time to upload more images from the archives and also my recent past. A few friends commented that they enjoy my posts with both my comments and images together. I am sure there are many not interested at all and others with mixed thoughts of the thoughts i expose of the inner workings of this brain. I have no ultimate direction other than it is what i do. Writing is a love that sometimes comes easy and often not. Photography is second nature to me now and has been for years but with the advent of half the world as photographers these days, the edge is gone, the uniqueness is common, the science is not necessary and the art is often forgot. Life moves on.
This image was taken on the Gulf of Mexico side around 1977.

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Patrick Wey

263 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/13

263 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/13 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Impression of Old Montreal – the flavour of colour set against the heavens of a sunny afternoon down thru the air of St Pauls Street Old Montreal back twenty years ago in the infancy of the digital era. Small puddles the size of a saucer lent their reflections towards the sensor of my new compact digital panasonic lumix and wham, light struck, twirled, reshaped, bent and swam ashore into this impression.
Image circa turn of the millennium….

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Patrick Wey

262 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/12

262 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/12 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Somedays are just sad. I lost a close friend a few days ago. One that i never got to know until i was an adult and set in my unsettled ways. Phil Ogison Aegidiussen travelled down a similar path so we had a lot in common.
Neighbourhood Hoodlums:
These four hoodlums on the other hand, are different. Stan on the left i’ve known since i was 16 or so. His home feels like home to me. Ted in the middle i’ve known the longest. I started hanging out with Ted when i was less than 14 and he was almost 10. That’s a big difference when you’re that age. He was like my little brother and i treaded him so. I took care of him. I didn’t keep him out of trouble, i just made sure he didn’t lag behind and get caught. Since i was the youngest out of 8 kids i suppose, looking back now, i really wanted a little brother. Tony on the right i’ve know since i was 16 and still, the most dependable. All three are still close to me and will be to the end. There are a few others that didn’t show up for the morning coffee. Allyn, Les, Joe Hiller, Don, Mike Klein and i’ve probably missed a few, Carolyn, Brigitte KrynickiMaria Hiller-OtvosApril Bezpaly,….the list moves in and out of time then fades into the age of the night…
I have to say i don’t share the same sentiments as most of my childhood friends when it comes to the arts and philosophy but they are solid, indisputably there for me as i am for them, most of the time.
I am feeling somewhat sad, melancholy today. Knowing once again that it all passes. All the good times, hard times, all come to pass. We age, wrinkles carve their way into our skin, conclusions lie squirming in the avenues of our minds, troubled souls look out thru worn eyes; while compassion over takes the space, still, life is desolate at times.
I am perched high and out of reach with my Cuban star hat against the far wall as if on a morning news screen but it was me who snapped the shot. My photoshop expertise slipped me into the scene. The Hoodlums is really a Starbucks in disguise.
Image 2015-ish

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261 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/11

261 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/11 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Phil Ogison Aegidiussen – I was just informed that my good friend Phil Ogison passed away yesterday afternoon. Phil was one of the few people i know that had the strength to do what his heart needed. He was diagnosed with cancer not long ago and he went quick. He didn’t want the world to know, as would be his humble way. Phil traveled down some roads that very few have the stamina to walk. His amazing in-depth heart felt knowledge of the pagan Norse ways, his buddhist eyes, his musical ears, his artistic hands, his love of life; everything about Phil was honest, soft and calm. I am among many whom will miss him dearly.
Phil and i talked and said our goodbye and we shared our mutual respect for one another. There are only a few people one may meet in life that can let you reach their very soul with the simple understanding that we are all alone attempting to connect. With tears, i know we felt that place within, that sacred place where only the spirit of love exists. He did have that way of inviting you into his heart and i know there are many that he touched with his soft ways.
There is so much more one could say, so many stories, so many real times, so many moments of truth passing thru his eyes. He will be missed dearly.
Phil had the love of his life Catherine Taomesre Tammaro with him as well as his two black cats, Mo and JET!
Image circa late 90’s

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Patrick Wey
 A poem i wrote for/toPhil before passed:

it’s hard to know
what to say to a dying man
one that knows that we don’t know
one that was open to anything
but more than likely the mystery awaits
where this brain and mind can never go

we travel down a tube some say
light over takes us and we become serene
some think they know exactly
what can not be known
but you and i, i know we don’t
I know you know and i know it too
it has to happen somewhere along the line
all will go
so what to say to a dying man

i loved you
life could not have been so special
if it were not for the you you are
we would not have shared our creative ways
writing songs painting images
walking thru pagan forests
kissing dreams as they flew away
understanding and accepting realities
as surreal as they have been
being there anytime we needed to be
what can one say to a dying man
it has been an honour to feel your presence
to be with you to walk along the trail
to share the visions in our head
and as we say goodbye
one last time
the last dance across the earth
the last breath of the wind
this heart trembles with love
to the melodies of your last note

behold what little light is left on this world
for soon things will change

thoughts from a dying man

patrickwey

260 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/10

260 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/10 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
My friend Servando in silent thought. He has been gone for awhile now. I remember the many conversations on the phone about the medicine, the red road, the way in life, friendship, enemies, relationships, the past, the future, death and love. He was one of the most sincere honest and real human beings i have encountered thru this walk in life. He conducted a sweat lodge every Saturday night on his land near Sante Fe, New Mexico until his death. I hear the lodge is still going as far as i know from my friend Melinda Morrison whom i met on my first trip south with Vernon Harper and family.
Memories outside of time.
Image circa early 90’s.

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259 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/09

259 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/09 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Just making the point that it is often difficult to find beauty in this world, but it is always hanging around close by and as they say, just open your eyes but it is more than that or rather less than that….it is often a matter of putting your thinking on hold and letting the presence of creation surround you. It’s easier in nature where the energy is more life-giving but beauty is in everything and occasionally the i disintegrates far enough to allow this phenomenon to take place. That’s one way of looking at it; there are many.
Image created 10 years ago or so….

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258 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/08

258 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/08 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
One of the Pointer Sisters. The group had 13 US top 20 hits between 1973 and 1985.
I worked for a few promoters in the area so i got into these events for free otherwise i would not have seen so many live performances – they were a great act and beautiful in all ways – 80’s Centre in the Square – Kitchener

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256 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/06

256 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/06 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The woman and i were travelling, moving west thru the northern states in the fall of 2016 listening to the Autobiography ‘Chronicles One’ by Bob Dylan when a man came on the radio telling me directly that My Dylan had won the Noble Prize for Literature….
i wrote this that night in a downtown hotel room off some highway in some Montana cowboy town, disguised as one of the gypsies.

Bob Dylan – Noble Prize for Literature…How does the Gypsy feel about that?
‘the Locusts sang and they were sangin for me’

The last few days i, the Gypsy, scrambled around my nature to find some denial for being lost. I am not lost because i don’t know where it’s at. I am lost because that is what we are and that is where it’s at. I don’t have one spec of truth tangled up inside or some myth hidden up my sleeve to soothe you from you or me. We are all lost whether we want to admit it or not. Anyone can believe they got the answer, got the right perspective on reality, anyone can do that, but we all know all serious endeavours into any discipline whatsoever is a small dot of the true nature of that subject whatever it is and we can feel that, feel it deep in our heart. The truth is, is that thought itself is limited like time and space, as if ‘every distance is not near’ and it is the creator of all the worlds it imagines, all the conclusions, all the beliefs in absolutes, the broken reasons, all the jokes are on us, ‘the Joker said to the Thief’, ‘there must be someway outa here’….and there is a way out, but it’s not here but then again, ’two riders were approaching and the wind began to howl’….well who from hell are those two riders, dualism itself? ‘And they’re breaking down the distance; Between right and wrong’ and ‘sometimes i think there are no words but these to say which are true, but there are no truths outside the gates of eden’.

People say that you can’t live without a belief system, something to believe in, even though you know in your heart it is just a facade to keep you from scaring yourself to suicide, physically or mentally; you feel compelled to feel secure with thoughts wrapped around your skull in complicated systems that prove themselves into truth, but they’re not. So what does one do when you come to the realization that one cannot know anything at all for certain? The tool is flawed, self serving, an illusion full of itself where as all reason stumbles across the heavens on its knees begging for awareness, a law that can never bend, one beyond time, a false ’Time out of Mind’.

Maybe this is freedom, and that the road to freedom is no road at all. I am not playing with words to confuse or avoid the seriousness of the absolute question of all questions. No question can be answered fully, complete, it is as simple as that. Thought itself is not capable of completeness, it is always fragmented, out of the present of the past, memory and we can see that, feel that and we are always that, an entity out of time, all about time, surreal time. Thought itself will always believe in itself, it is perpetual-believing in motion. It is indefinite, shallow, a ‘judge that is badly built and walks on stilts, watch out he don’t fall on you’.

‘But it’s alright Ma, it’s life and life only’. I could go on and on quoting Dylan and write a book on Dylans observations of the world, but ‘I’d forever talk to you and soon my words they would turn into a meaningless ring, for deep in my heart, love, i know there is no help i can bring……’and

‘In a soldier’s stance, I aimed my hand
At the mongrel dogs who teach
Fearing not that I’d become my enemy
In the instant that I preach
My existence led by confusion boats
Mutiny from stern to bow
Ah, but I was so much older then
I’m younger than that now’.

What is disturbing is that the world is awaking to the fact that this world is doomed. The validity of thought with all of our absolute beliefs are doomed, coming to an end, ‘God is Dead’. ‘It’s easy to see without looking too far that not much is really sacred’. Dylan addresses many issues, and at the end of every line it is still this, ‘we sit here stranded tho we all do our best to deny it’.

“So somehow it has been a sad understanding that the world is catching up to the facts that can only lead us to despair”, so the gypsy says. It is so obvious that we all are wanting desperately to know we got it right, but we constantly get rude awakenings to obscure that safe belief and we’re all alone again facing a death that ends the whole world that thought has put together. “Humpty Dumpty is Down and He ain’t gettin Back Up”, the joker says. The universe will continue without us, without thought, without god, without anything of us, “we are the illusion” so the Joker mumbled.

Bob has encouraged us to attempt to be ‘forever young’, and ‘I was so much older then, i’m younger than that now’, but ‘Life is Hard’ and ‘i used to care but times have changed’ and ‘this place don’t make sense to me no more’ so ‘disconnect the cables over turn the tables’ and ‘ the only thing i know how to do is to keep on keeping on’.

No matter how long you go on believing in where-ever thought has taken you, to, changing it, revising it, time comes to an end, ‘Time out of Mind’, you can hang on to it all right up to the last breath but eventually you’ll just have to let the great-mystery take you out and float into the space unknown, unthought about. Life can take you there in peace, to just melt into the silence without anything. “Freedom from the known”, some other gypsy said from the side, presumed this, and thought of that and who was right there ‘caught in the middle with you’, ‘jokers to the right of me, clowns to the left’.

I am glad i suppose that the world is catching up but it is also sad. Not much has changed, “the world is filled with beauty and grieve”, the Caretaker pursued.….”that is as certain as it gets”, but i don’t let these, ‘abstracts threat to noble to neglect’, i just let the ‘River Flow’ and keep walking.

Anyways, i know in your heart Bob that you don’t give a damn about any degree, prize or fortune, and once again for the Gypsy, for the Joker, for the Thief, the Hooligan, the Caretaker and all the identities, ‘the Locusts sang and they were sangin for me’.

and nobody could ever sing ‘Strike another match, go start anew’ with the menace of Dylan himself. ‘for it’s all over now baby blue’.
Image circa the 80’s, enhanced later, literature written autumn 2017

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255 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/05

255 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/05 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘It was a calm night, the snow had sheltered the silence under its wing. The hydro had flashed out. He lied there in the darkness, stretched out upon the couch. The soft dark moments etched shadows across the air. The night slipped out of itself into the imagination of sight. Light danced upon the walls as the erie silence hummed in the great distance.

He thought about how obscure and fainted the memories erased themselves unaware leaving fragments dancing across the room free and true. Words forcing sounds upon the form almost in control.

Everything comes to an end he realized as the separation of the past melted into his eyes. His touch was meant for another realm as he handed himself a sigh and took a long breath that began hundreds of years before and ended stretching into a cloud of premonitions. “What will become of this useless beauty that my eyes behold, if for a million nights this sadness can’t escape the wonder of mystery deep within my bones”. His voice without sound and his dreams but a breeze against the wind, he stated once again, “love is love, and that is all it is made of”.

The darkness faded into the night, silence swam still………’

The man in the cafe walked here, thought this, then left.

Image circa the 80’s, literature May 2017

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254 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/04

254 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/04 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Wavering in the Wind’
She stood there wavering in the wind, pale rain washing away fading dreams and kissing the grey and lonely skies. A highway passes by the sea and all humanity. Faint waves of gentle light caressing her. All life’s purpose floating by unseen yet clear in the dampness of her eyes. The misty evening air surrounding lightly and giving simply like truth does. She looked directly into the soft sea and saw dreams weaving their nature. She held this vision tenderly then noticed the road again with all its turns and slippery ways towards the dark forest. The evening brushing up against the night, the day accepting its fate, the tale, its reflection, its intimacy left wavering in the wind.
Image circa 2017 west coast, writing Nov.2/2018

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253 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/03

253 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/03 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I created this cover photo for a New Age Magazine on healing hands a number of years ago. This is Phil Ogison Aegidiussen with his son Davids hands. I often thought this image to be appropriate knowing that David would help to heal his fathers sorrow after he left this world abruptly doing what he most loved to do, skydiving. There is no other bond stronger than a child and a parent, a father and his son. When a child leaves first, an unbalance settles deep within the heart. It takes a great deal of grace to warm this disturbance with purity from the earth itself. These hands project these waves.
I feel inadequate in presenting this after the years between now and then. This image always makes me quiver in a calmness only present from the mystery of the other side.
Love knows so much that can never be understood, but with serenity and silence, we can feel it’s tender touch.
Image created in the 90’s
I remember the delicate lighting combination of light from below to illuminate the hands with just enough reflected off the hands unto the face with a back light on the back drop to separate and silhouette Phil from Davids hands.

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Patrick Wey

252 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/02

252 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/02 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Phil Ogison Aegidiussen‘s son David. I didn’t know Dave well but well enough to know he was a young man sincere and full of adventure and change just like his father. Dave died in a sky diving accident down around San Diego a few years back. That’s the way he lived, that’s the way he was. Dave had left a son behind that i am sure misses him dearly and though nothing can replace a good dad, he does have a fantastic grandpa to help him on his way.
image circa around the early 90’s i believe

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Patrick Wey

251 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/01

251 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/01 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Somedays makes you wanna just sail away into the breeze of the sea, leave it all behind, find a new life, fall off the earth, fly off the cliff, hit the road on the open sea and live all those dreams hiding, swimming around the water in your head. That shimmering insight born of the depth you dove, the breath you’ve held tight, the strength of your will to be something new, something totally different, an adventure that never sees behind.
Somedays you can just sit on the dock and watch the ripples of water warp reality into dreams, all yours, all magic for a few moments of eternity washing up upon the shore line like silence whispering tones of pure purity right to the core of your being.
Yes, sail boats wavering off the water and me in some strange form of reality.
Image west coast 2017, writing last night…

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Patrick Wey

250 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/31

250 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/31 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Don moved into my neighbourhood when i was in grade eight. We became the best of friends until he died at 40. Don, as many in this world had a drinking problem that eventually let him to his death. I remember one autumn afternoon sitting under a huge weeping willow in a school yard near his home. We talked about life and death slipped into the air as it tends to do. He talked about suicide a few times but i paid it little as we had talked about so much so many times. I think it was the day after christmas that he chose that tree to dangle from, dead.
An addictive high can often take you much lower then one can possibly imagine.
I remember just beginning to do sweats down at Verns lodge in Guelph. I had only done a few and was having a terrible time when things got tough and super hot that i would get unbearably paralyzed in my hands and arms. I had asked to get out for a breather between rounds which was the custom for the weaker ones.
It was my first new years eve sweat that year and i vowed to stay in no matter how hard it became in honour of my true friend Don Tucker. Between the third and fourth round i couldn’t handle it any longer and i asked to get out. I crawled out paralyzed and on my elbows into the cold blizzard hot as hell. I sat by the fire for a few minutes feeling somewhat defeated when a message strong cleared my head with the understanding that i had absolutely no right to judge Don for what he had done, that nobody does. Vern called me back in knowing something was going on, as he often acknowledged, and i finished the rest of the sweat with a new strength embedded in my heart.
I have felt guilty at times knowing there was more that i could have done for Don in those last years when he was struggling, but life is that way.
That is about thirty years ago now and today halloween, is his birthday.
Don was the only one, ever, in my life that could have a twist in his eye when he could sense any bullshit i was throwing out to the world and with that same twist i would without any hesitation observe my fraudulent attitude and get right back into the scene, clear and honest. We learned that ‘trust’ on long nights with alternative medicines swimming in and around our brains as we travelled around the countryside between town to towns in the late sixties.
Don was a great artist, he had it in his soul. He didn’t fake anything.
Once, we were best friends.
Don loved me reciting a poem by Vladimir Mayakovsky, titled ‘Past One O’Clock.
I recited it at his funeral….
This poem was found among Mayakovsky’s papers after his suicide on April 14, 1930. He had used the middle section, with slight changes, as an epilogue to his suicide note found in his coat pocket.

Past one o’clock. You must have gone to bed.
The Milky Way streams silver through the night.
I’m in no hurry; with lightning telegrams
I have no cause to wake or trouble you.
And, as they say, the incident is closed.
Love’s boat has smashed against the daily grind.
Now you and I are quits. Why bother then
To balance mutual sorrows, pains, and hurts.
Behold what quiet settles on the world.
Night wraps the sky in tribute from the stars.
In hours like these, one rises to address
The ages, history, and all creation.

Mayakovsky was about to be sent to Siberia, for ever, and his love was in Paris whom he would never see again.
We all have our limits, that was his and Don had his.
Some of us are much too sensitive and delicate to survive in this abrasive and often cruel world.
Image circa 80’s

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249 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/30

249 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/30 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
My good friend Yujing Cen a few years ago when we used to meet to exchange photography for algebra lessons. I wanted to learn more math in reference to Viktor Schauberger‘s understanding of nature. Yujing takes some great photos these days but i have forgotten most of the math she taught me. It was always a pleasure being with her, she was interested in everything about life. I was the only caucasian at her beautiful wedding a couple of years ago and felt honoured to be there. There are a few people you meet in life that just carry on smooth into eternity. Yujing is one of those.
Image 2012 or so…

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248 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/29

248 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/29 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sasha in the forest of her life. This is what she loves the most.
Beaches are fine and city streets have their day but the smell of trees and leaves and fungi and earth is when she comes alive. The west coast and her are in love and sometimes i get some of that love too.
In the early morning mist she disappears, in the afternoon she is high on the trail, by evening her way weaves home, and in the night time she’s with me alone.
That’s the dream anyways….
Image circa west coast forest, lately.

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247 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/28

247 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/28 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Annette Bernier back in the day when we lived in NYC for some time.
When time hit the city streets with vigour and life emerged solid, we were young, we were free and we did it just like that. Time turns in on itself and wrinkles and warps from those middle ages when darkness was bright. You could stand in the lower east side where times were tough and not feel fear from anywhere or walk mid town and live love like we did. Those were some days my friends now embedded deep within my brain but the road keeps going on down around this merry-go-round with but a few whispers from the other side till you’re so close you can smell it. Life, youth, age and the slow walk into the lit darkness. She was so young there, real and free.
Mother of Sierra Kachina and Baylee Nguyen
Circa late 80’s

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246 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/27

246 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/27 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Lying on the beach on a pale afternoon attempting to crawl into existence. She came from a long line of mud people from the near underground. Her dreams were simple and true to live free to see clear to love and to be loved. She died kicked apart by hoodlums from the streets of hell. Her epitaph reads, ‘earth people one love’ engraved into the mystic sands along the silent shores and if you stick your head out far enough from the politics of the day and the velvet curtains of religious ruins you just might catch a glimpse of the eternal source reflected against the shadows of the mind.
Image circa the 90’s along Lake Huron…writing today

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245 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/26

245 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/26 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
One of the burned out basements i lived in
with Abby on the left……
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1e3m_T-NMOs
Neil Young – After The Gold Rush
‘I was lying in a burned out basement
With the full moon in my eyes.
I was hoping for replacement
When the sun burst thru the sky.
There was a band playing in my head
And I felt like getting high.
I was thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.
Thinking about what a
Friend had said
I was hoping it was a lie.’….Neil Young
Image late 80’s

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244 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/25

244 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/25 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Dancin in the Desert
Self Portrait…..when i was traveling alone i often switched on the timer and jumped into the scene for a little variety from the barren landscapes i was facing inside and out.
Circa late 80’s New Mexico or there abouts.

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235 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/16

235 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/16 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the chill of a damp dismal day i set out to conquer fear. I headed straight into the cold frozen swamp of the forest and fell to my knees in prayer. With my forehead on the ice and truth in the wind i felt answers swarming unclear and delicate until i cried forgiveness for the people i’ve been, the things i’ve done with my arrogance and slippery deceit. i surrendered to the maker until my tears froze to the earth. A cold chill crawled up my spine and landed deep within my brain. With my mind belonging to no one to nothing but the cold dark truth within, I cried till all tears warmed up inside of me with a peace that can only come from humility. I left the forest with the strength of ice as the softness of water.
Image circa 2010 writing Oct 2018

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Patrick Wey

232 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/13

232 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/13 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘And but for the sky there are no fences facin’ Mr Tamborine Man by Bob Dylan
If John Lennons ‘Imagine’ is the Natural Anthem then surely ‘Mr Tamborine Man’ is the Psychedelic Anthem.
We traveled from one town to the next, there was nothing to stop us, we had love on our side, ‘And the ancient empty street’s too dead for dreaming’.
With our freedom set into the night we traveled into the dark with the unknown as our strength and the roadless way as our guide.

‘And if you hear vague traces of skippin’ reels of rhyme
To your tambourine in time
It’s just a ragged clown behind
I wouldn’t pay it any mind
It’s just a shadow you’re seein’ that he’s chasing’

With our boot heals hittin the desert dust and our eyes wide across the city tar we went where no man had, into the fury of change, the very core of our brains straight thru the tunnel beyond reason, beyond thought into the mystery of mystery itself. Lsd, weed, tools to excavate the mind, the depth of sin eliminated the gates of heaven revealed.

‘And take me disappearing through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time
Far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees
Out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach
Of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea
Circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate
Driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today
Until tomorrow’

I grabbed my thumb from my pocket and headed out into the road. I hitched up and down the coast across desert sands and felt that place inside that soft easy space where nothing matters much, truth riding in the wind.
In the mid sixties you could stumble across a laid away town in the middle of the west with a few long hairs hanging around some street corner and you could sense immediately if the vibe was cool and if their home was your home. There was a code, free for no reason, bound to end.
Fences had come down, walls disintegrated, eyes like a morning flower opened to the sunlit truth but there was a harsh wind awaiting and about to blow hard across the nation.
I remember those days when the division was simple, long hair / short, straight / cool, drop out or established fool. The world was falling all around, dreams circling the circus sands and we wanted off, wanted out, wanted more.
‘Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
I’m not sleepy and there is no place I’m going to
Hey! Mr. Tambourine Man, play a song for me
In the jingle jangle morning I’ll come followin’ you’
The way turned bent whirled curved but a few remember, a few still sit alone in the cafes of heaven, ponder back over the terrains that never die.
Fences fading drifting into eternity
love named burning into flaming skies.
Image coloured-jel created in the late 60’s sandwiched to a fence image of the 90’s, writing oct. 2018 along with Dylans Mr. Tamborine Man 1964https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OeP4FFr88SQ

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Patrick Wey

230 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/11

230 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/11 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Patrick Wey is a famous hockey player whom retired because of head injuries.
Patrick Wey is an infamous photographer/writer whom would love to retire with the hockey players money.
They compete with each other on the front pages of google images. Of course the hockey player is winning but gradually his hockey will disappear and art once again will score the winning goal.
Image of patrick wey stolen from the internet and manipulated by patrickwey the artist….just for fun.

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229 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/10

229 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/10 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The shimmering factories are fading, mothers and fathers dead or dying, cancers injected into their skin into their bones into their brains. The years of building trinkets and guns the days of sweat and fun, those days are goin and done. The ghost of mechanics still rings in the suburbs of industrial dust with digitized robots of heartless endeavours for post modern toys of comfort and joy. The world is changing, the new breath of dream of america is here and the dying of tradition is rusting away in the alleyways. We are moving on so it seems tho we act like we’re still catching our breath at the edge of the cave. The new interconnected silicon and cell will fulfil the ideals of the few and the new wars to survive are already being fought close by if you open up your eyes far enough from the dope of entertainment and nourishment of unnaturally created compounds to soothe our plastic souls. The days ahead are bleak for many, the work is never done, jesus with the good guys on one side and the devil from the dark on the other. Call it what you will; they say, ‘confusion is the best division’, but down here everything is silent and smooth and there ain’t nothing to fear cept your imagination running………..
image circa 80’s writing oct 2018

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228 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/09

228 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/09 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
we walked thru city streets down, together, past melting buildings and sleet across our face but we never stopped, always kept one foot in front of the other. we dreamt this, we kept our promise, we held on, we loved, we slept in soft surreal beds, crept along thru neon clubs and scenes dim and rough. we managed to make it thru to the other side with few scars and we left the dreams calm and lost them along the ditch for others. i remember the new york city streets and the flavour of the cold. i left the night along the canal like anyone else weary of the damp illusion of views that are impossible to make exist, had to be destroyed, set aside. she said, “wish we could stay here forever” and i wanted it too, but things change and there ain’t nothin one can do. the many years have passed, slid across my brain but still the memory lights up my heart when i fall back there.
image circa 80’s writing oct 2018

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227 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/08

227 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/08 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

….a ruffled-up-crow dreams out a prayer for our thanksgiving….

Thanks for the food and the door way to the other side
thanks for the rock and roll and the cafes and social media
thanks for the summer evenings and the crucifictions
thanks for spelling errors and correction apps and toilet paper
thanks for the troubled minds and the addicted
thanks for my freedom to say what i want
for the turkeys real and symbolic and the privileged airplane rides
thanks for the love hidden and over done
thanks for your sweet thoughts right in the nitch of time
and for all the tattoos and sacred symbols
thanks for all the people that try so hard
and the flowers in bloom and the animals
Thanks for everything for this moment for this high
thanks for you, them and the earth and sky
thanks for the time wasted on facebook
and friends that have reappeared and disappeared
thanks for thanks and life and death
and thanks for everything i regret
for all the things i’ve missed for all the things i’ve had
thanks again and again for this day this night
for everything wrong and everything right
for all the smiles and all the tears
for the bravery and all the fears
thanks for today and tomorrow and our concept of time
thanks thanks thanks and thanks over and over again thanks

thanks for second thoughts and peculiar conclusions
thanks for trumped-up-like people, the jesus saved ones and the entertainment
for those whom see what’s right and for those lost in a dream
for the future for the critics for the politicians and the saints
thanks for this life, this time to be, this circus and christmas celebrations
thanks for all the holidays and the hard days at work
for the children the women the men the beliefs and illusions
thanks for the brave the stupid and the discreet
for karma the mystery the universe the unknown
thanks for the chance to feel at a glance
the real the unreal the surreal and beyond
and thanks for thanksgiving happy or not, and to be thankful
for our consciousness and for all we’ve got……..
and oh yea, thank god for crows
image circa late 70’s writing oct 2018

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226 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/07

226 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/07 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Here i stand lookin straight out at the world, my bag, my journal, a camera or two. Time had twisted down a few roads since this shot slid into view. One could be what ever one wanted to be, looking back. Outside a southwest mansion with adventures weary-dust upon my face i rambled around there for awhile. There were good times bad times but mostly times with a sense of freedom tangled up in the wind. I miss those days when life was just what it was, a purpose driven by the walk, the way one would roll a cigarette and puff a little tobacco, the way you could go that way or this way, didn’t matter all that much as long as freedoms illusion wrapped its arms loose around your coat…..yesterday, all my
photo circa 90’s writing oct 2018

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225 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/06

225 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/06 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
A pretty face on a porcelain brain, autumn rain slippin down the street, the whole race on the track of city air surrounding. He walked by never noticed a thing, she looked down. The world was rough, damp, cold and the mood was swinging low. The city takes you places you knew you’d never go but there you were right in the midst of it. The turbulence was everywhere the purpose was lost, meaning fell like a tomb. I walked into the scene, fell in love, then left for the coast.
photo circa 80’s writing oct. 2018

Irena Berlinska in the background i noticed….

 

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224 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/05

224 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/05 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There is no beauty like beauty. Water painting its way down stream. The heavens falling all around. A man in his old armour rushing about and a woman with a butterfly net walks by. A heavenly drizzle slants itself across the view and sun shimmers thru each and every drop in its wake. Water is everywhere, it’s in your brain, it’s in the rain, it’s in the dreams that flow down your drain. Beauty is in everything – if it’s in your eye, it’s reflected from trees across the streams, it’s the web of love and consciousness it seems.
photo circa 2018 writing October 2018

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Patrick Wey

222 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/03

222 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/03 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
i don’t wanna beg, i did’t plan it this way, i don’t like being here any more than you would. i see your fancy stuff hangin off your back, your future rapped up in a velvet cloth, your whole universe summed up and placed rather straight on down the line. i’m no idiot, just a chick with some hard turns, a woman in this world displayed like an antique in a second hand store. the day passes slow here, some days are real tough, some days fall off the edge, some are full of pity and sadness. i didn’t plan it this way but i’m caught, no way to get out of this mess. I’ve got kids dead half dead and some never lived at all. It’s not easy watchin you with your things. It’s not right, you know it and i know it. i got no dreams left, nothin left here but death watchin. this has not been a good day and i can’t find it in my heart to apologize, leave what you will, look the other way.
photo circa 70’s writing yesterday

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Patrick Wey

221 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/02

221 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/02 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
walking around town with my head in the clouds, lookin to see what i can see, lookin to be what ever i be. no worries, in a dream, livin free. i got no place to go, nobody to be, i got nothin but my feelin free…..this is the way i remember some of my youth but sometimes things change and sharp realities slide in. you can see them if you look quick to the left, catch a glimpse as they float by but if you’re really swift and in tune to the day you can brush it all aside and get right back to that good old young to be, forever free……..it’s a dream, lasts awhile then fades then reappears then again….
image circa 80’s, writing yesterday

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220 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/01

220 Image-Content of the Day 2018/10/01 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Looking out this window here in BC across a valley to a mist hidden mountain of beauty and pondering over times in Mexico 40 years ago. I remember taking this photo in some city along the way, Oxoaco in the south, i believe. I was fascinated with poverty and the poor so obvious and many, unhidden from view, in contrast to in the prosperous streets of the north.
Farmers and peasants forced into cities for a better life that became impossible to find for most. Many ended up in the streets begging for an existence difficult and absurd. There was little choice for most but to keep walking. They were once young with dreams that slowly eroded into a ditch of hard times. They remain; more and more generations have worn out shoes stumbling along these same streets. All across the globe poor souls exist in conditions most people refuse to see. A billion excuses come to mind to alleviate any quilt that may arise. We have more than enough pretty pictures to cover our walls and conclusions and veils to keep us safe, secure and motivated to enlighten our surroundings with a sprinkle of love straight from our wounded hearts.
What is one to do? So much wealth in the hands of a few and so much struggle for the many and a complete hell for far far too many….this is our world of incredible beauty, difficult decisions, denial, false assumptions, insanity, deep sadness, wonder, laughter and what we call love.
A great man once said (Wes Jackson), “if you can’t find any humour in all this you are just not taking it serious enough”.
circa 70’s image, writing yesterday….

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Patrick Wey

219 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/30

219 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/30 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The walls we left behind, the barren scape of time
the roads the home the very scope of love, once mine….

into the sky, way down me head swaying like a willow across fields of memory and straight into a long and narrow day. i love it the way she tells me things that only she can tell, the way she sees into things like they were alive and well. This cloudy stream of sky sun-lit and soft held us for awhile, a long dear while. We were in love like beauty is when two is one. The scene was set the noon came in soft and our time melted around the gentle air like a warm sweater like lips across her cheek.
We walked on for years, time held us like luck does before a change that breaks things apart. And just like an old man i can remember things that never were, things that really never moved so smooth, days of love like rain of light drizzling soft upon our hearts. Time, it has its way of twisting in and out of life…..like love does.

….So sail on thru the storm
Let time see of itself
Be the heart that beats true
Hold nothing old
into the new…..

circa – Image created 90’s, writing yesterday/today

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Patrick Wey

218 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/29

218 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/29 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
i swore there was some way out of here. i could see you desperately hanging on. the world had you. you crawled along the floor like a magnet. your friends sneered. your time was lame but yet you managed to survive, to etch your life line upon the earth. no one said a word as they looked the other way. the bells were ringing. aliens took over the town hall. the seas were wild, the sky in turmoil and only a few could see. i held you there in my arms like i did and you smiled for just awhile before they came and dragged you down. the end came fast then slow in the end. i justabout reached there to catch a glimpse, just before love arose from the insides and destroyed this dream.
the making of an image of the end from a mixture of minds sent on a mission with meaning that meant nothing as everything does when things come down to it. disheartening to find out you’re alone just when you think someone really found you. but there is nothing to fear, there is always something to see something to be somewhere to go. i know there is nothing to say and i say it just like that.
….mental illness is on the top of the world, this is a mixture from the inside out, thoughts from the streets, loved ones, family and friends and others……who would have known that the mis-understanding of ‘water’ is at the core of all of this, the life blood of a living earth has been crippled and all life forms that depend on it, are it, are affected by it’s dying. no matter how complex man becomes with its nature its science its ways it can not live without water and dying water gives dying breath and decaying minds.
image circa 90’s creation from ‘Crow Space’ a multi-image show of the life and times of a Crow in the ends of time as we knew it….writing from yesterday today
Living Water……..http://waternature.org/

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Patrick Wey

217 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/28

217 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/28 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
She said she didn’t want me anymore, walked away, headed for the deck, threw specs of bread into the air. Seagulls surrounded her, swept their wings so close she dreamed
of flying.
The sun set, the day gave up shuffled about the deck, squandered a few memories begging for one more sweet caress against the world; her love with warm hands in hand, just awhile longer, just one more moment, sea breeze swimming around our minds but then, wind came swift shifted things.
We met against the dark side, held on for life, gave our hearts complete….times moved about and clouded the sun for days, landing us in a drought of our souls. The desert landscape couldn’t have been more beautiful but the deep thirst killed us.
Time blew in again and forgiveness settled in our breath. Love, no more than a word, scrambled about looking for something to hang onto and that was the day with bread crumbs, she left for good.
Here lies the remains of the memory of our love and like a worn out painting this photograph holds the key to my heart, the sea, the wind.
image circa 25 years ago or so, writing yesterday

No automatic alt text available.

216 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/27

216 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/27 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There’s probably a story or two hidden in the backyards of a few minds from the night light hit the negatives of my nikon way back when, but not from me. I don’t recall who she is or where i was. There’s a good chance it’s toronto and a semi famous band and that Coral Andrews would know. At any rate, she’s pretty and she plays base and i was there and i wish i was again.
Why do i do this, what’s the point, makes me question my sanity….old photographs lost in the archives of a one-time photographer with some strange commitment to a few more posts or so. The time is coming to an end, i feel it in my blood, i’m gettin to the ledge, the end of the line, an era dead. These photos will find there way here and there i suppose but for someone who cares little about the past they mean less and less. The age of image gluttony, sound bit specs in every dash of wind is here while the past is drowning in a future dangerously uncertain.
My thoughts move about the page for nothing better to do. I sit in a small cafe in a small town with small dreams waiting for the winds to shift.

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211 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/22

211 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/22 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The old ones have turned gray. I want to be able to say what i can’t comprehend, so what is there left but determinism, the endeavour to create. What else is there when there is no room left on the walls, images competing for space. No room for a future, the past has cluttered the hallways with debris, rubbish demanding attention endlessly, noice with silence on death row. What kind of a life has developed here, where has the love gone, what dreams are smothering the road? I want you because of habit, circumstance, security; out of the frame and into the blue.
Image created 2016, content today and yesterday…

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210 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/21

210 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/21 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I see you walk down your city streets glance out across the plains dream of things into form for nothing better to do. You cage us up like we’re your little toys, things to amuse you with. We watch you drink from streams and eat from the earth and force us to act out our nature confined. I love it the way you squeeze our brains into the likeness of your worlds of religious domination beliefs and others. We get on the best we can living our nature unnaturally. We don’t have the hells you’ve created the karma you’ve devised or the walls your thoughts praise. We live by the second free no matter what you think. I suppose if we thought about it we’d feel immense pity for you but we don’t. We have a different sort of love, a love that kills and lives and dies free within a code of mystery. I speak for all but you. I am a crow, my big brother the raven is the being whom brought light into this world. That’s what we know, believe it or not it means nothing to us, our mission is unknown to us, that’s the way it outa be, that’s the way it is.
signed..rosetta
image circa 90’s content yesterday

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206 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/17

206 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/17 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
One of my cars way back when….62 rambler, front seats folded back into a bed…
I have put up an image/content for 206 days now, facebook is messin with us…they are all on my blog archived for as long as time rolls on down this social media path.
circa photo early 70’s

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205 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/16

205 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/16 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
dreaming from the shore of a sea
love falling off leaves of trees
all the worlds worries floating by
under this clear blue sky….
when troubles reform to projects of interest to investigate and friends in view become tender and family exposes warm concerns and the world turns into something one can touch, it’s then you will know you have been walking hard along the trail.
Some say there is magic in the air
when things go light and breath is easy and true
that god is beside you always and the devil is just a concept in you
but it seems no doubt that when the process of thought stops in the mind
only magic and mystery remain without a trace of a word in time….
This is possible and goes to prove that he/she without a home is free in a universe that mystery and magic are merely words as a costume for a clown.
My costume is my images and my words, a gift for the few as i drag them across the floor.
Circa Thailand Chiang Mai canal around the old city…2017

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204 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/15

204 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/15 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
You got your troubles and i got mine
some can’t hear, most are blind
some can speak, most won’t talk
makes you want to get off the train
go for a walk

street photography…obviously
symbolism…probably
circa dundas st. toronto, china town 80’s

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203 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/14

203 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/14 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Sunday afternoon with rain lying across fields
and roads wet of autumn
while time had moved in slow
with nothing left to show
the sermon short and swift
and the end just ahead
where the mind shall lift
across the divine to home
Makes you wonder just what was on their minds as they traveled home from their Sunday afternoon church gathering. Strong christian beliefs sheltering their hearts from the cold and damp world surrounding. Perhaps they have it right denying the spark of electrical energy into their homes and the combustion engine into their ways. Perhaps the curse of modern science really has gone against the natural way. Perhaps their visions lie aside the natives earth and man has gone too wrong too far. Perhaps man has not gone far enough. Perhaps you need not know to live right.
circa mennonite country just north west of waterloo on. can. 1990’s

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202 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/13

202 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/13 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
….in that cool breeze of the night when things were different and you were on the wall wavering from one side towards another knowing this then knowing that but unable to squeeze a self out. The train flew by with a bunch of heavens in search of more, headless sculptures walked to and fro, drowning men kept screaming unclear, new mediums filled the air waves,dying frogs leap against the glass to death and you were simple, knitting scarfs for the crippled and playing chess with a screen. What ever happened to the dreams of poets kissing love, the painters throwing roads of colour against a canvas, songs waiting patiently for a throat or two.
The day breaks open like a poem falling off a page, the political mice snarl inside their holes, the whole damn mess gets scraped off sides of streets with news of saints flying thru heading for the ditch. The peanut factory increasing sales, doing well in the capital and bees busy digitizing facts as fast as they can manufacture-um. The critics are all over the social medium with heads dispersed into fragments for the benefit of a few.
Life is coming to an end the way we see it, we have out-thought ourselves, we have held out too long, we are being replaced by crystal, copper and gold. The new ‘on or off’ technology will rule the wise men and the fool. There is no necessity to fear, keep your ears glued to the visions of glamour and your gods of deceit, the end will not kill you, you will not disappear, turn the page, scribble out the text, delete the posts, call your faceless friends and love your self into the end………..
photo circa 90’s kitchener city wall, self stand-in

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200 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/11

200 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/11 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Wall Shadow’s Self Portrait, some call it a selfie
The image on the wall looks like Authur Rimbau, a poet of the Symbolist Movement, late 1800’s… https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Arthur_Rimbaud
The first poet to create prose verse and more or less shit on the traditional hypocrisy of rhyme; some would like to believe Bob Dylan reincarnated from him.
Back in 1970 or so i met a bohemian poet on the main drag of Little Berlin (kitchener)….i put him up for a few nights, he was eastern european with a hand full of english. When we departed he gave a copy of the book (Les Illuminations) of Rimbau’s poems , i gave him a book of poems by Dylan Thomas.
I left almost all my books in the farm house when we left for the west coast a couple of years ago now, time doesn’t fly, it melts in an out of space like a daydream. Here i sit cafed in a rain struck afternoon in the duncan garage cafe writing words to people i hardly know, will probably never see again and if time twists right i may even receive a few head crumb compliments while i slip down upon their walls into the archives of digital humanity. I don’t mind at all, it passes the time and reminds me of the things i left behind. The rain let up, time to move.
circa poland, turn of the millenium

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198 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/09

198 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/09 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Something i did in the 90’s…….
Crow Space is a Surreal Documentary of the Life and Times of a Crow(Rosetta) in the late and early part of this millenium…shot with stills and manipulated, sandwiched all with 35mm film slides.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g088qlHn1-g

Patrick Wey

Crow Space

Silently the crow spoke
on a shore of babbling tongue
Silver black against a weary sky
sound beyond the ear
still upon the soul
“there is a way into this
just along this crooked trail
ask the snake
at the end, the gate
she’ll tell you what you need to know
be patient
don’t be late”

The door folded
across a broken lake the sky dead
in a ditch
nothing was the way it was
everything in a twist
my spirit searched, it soared
upon this jagged trail
There were cars, boats, planes
dreams out of control
synthetic sex, tv internet
crippling side effects
a whole universe, a mess
inside this show

Down under, the red sand
eyes wide
ready across the dunes
something from the shadow
stretched across the sky
like a blanket, hovering another side
four long truths circled
to the centre i
was crow blue
as the blackest night

There is so much to say so little time
i quenched, i hopped
i could see there was no point
no telling
what the trickster
hides inside
i could see clear as if
for the first time
it is all a test

Now flying
my wings tough
against the wind
like a frozen lake
smashed against the sky
far below i could see myself
like a past upon a path
yelling up, watch
that fake glass
a barrier to the other side

All those dreams
on a long slow train
this steady hum of track and steel
rollin headin south

The vision, the focus
all those lives
all those hills
all my future squashed
all past pushed along this rail

My eyes closed
wings stretched to distance
claws clenched upon the edge
time come space
leave
fly
for evermore
evermore
crow

The crow
hidden like a shadow
in a misty night
hush of windy woods
darkness in the silence
a dream a vision
from long long ago
the world
before the test of time
an old crow lived
and is living still.

197 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/08

197 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/08 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day

His name isn’t Carl, that’s another character in my archives but he claimed to have written Elvis’s first hit whatever that was. He sang it while i continued to sip on my draft beer in the mens room of the Station, a famous drinking hole in my home town a few years ago, a lot of a few years ago. He dressed up in various outfits for the saturday night outing probably hoping to meet a woman or two, even old guys get lonely and want to cuddle up once in awhile. Pete sat across from us and waved back and forth off the stool ready to collapse any moment while the bang of rocks against the shuffle board walls slammed up against our ears and you could almost hear Elvis with his memphis blues singing thru the cracks of the walls. Jeese what ever happened to him with his pipe and stern gaze, you could see him around town once in a while slippin in from the cold in winter nights or dressed all up in summer baby blue for the grand union hotel another local bar down amongst the locals, the ones wasted and the ones getting wasted and all of um waitin for somethin to happin tryin to get it right for the night. I felt at home with these guys the games were easy to understand the thought was simple you could be an existentialist or a nihilist and nobody gave a damn you could walk easy thru the fog get as stoned as you’d like and still keep your feet firm on the ground, there was hardly a soul to shuffle you about. Nothin lasts, you had to move from that, a few nights of that and you had to do something with your life, i mean what the hell we here for, can’t write from down there forever, can’t find god in a bottle, can’t find him anyways but he kept singin like he was gonna get found soon real soon. And holy shit elvis came walking thru the walls and that was it never entered there again.

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196 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/07

196 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/07 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Two nieces whom are cousins, Susan and Cathy Gilchrist Schmidt. I remember that day when they tried to convince me that the Bay City Rollers were better then the Beatles. I had to laugh to myself and thought in a few years people will not even have heard of them, the Rollers that is…..my god they were young. Cathy has since passed away, bless her soul. Young girls along a row of maple trees in the rolling cattle fields of Formosa On.
circa 1976 or so

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195 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/06

195 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/06 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Back in the days when i first met Bruce Gremo. We have been friends ever since. He now lives in Beijing….(an excerpt from the vimeo web site; https://vimeo.com/user6968225/about)..Beijing based composer and flutist Bruce Gremo also performs on bass flute, alto shakulute, Japanese shakuhachi, glissando head joint flute, Indian bansuri, and Chinese xun. Lots of images on google of him.
Thoughts on this photo – I liked the corner wall shades of gray; and the light side of his face against the darker gray side of the wall and the dark side of his face against the lighter background of the wall. I literally remember thinking that when i took the shot all so many years ago. It makes it more 3D somehow and it pops the corner of the wall in and out. Of course, Bruce give up smoking years and years ago.

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194 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/05

194 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/05 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Phil Ogison Aegidiussen walking zen like thru the centre of toronto, happy and free, that’s how i remember my good friend Phil. Wish i was back that way to drop in on him. He has walked a few roads since this era.
circa 90’s i think

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Patrick Wey

193 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/04

193 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/04 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Danny Michel with reflections of Tom Greer in a bicycle kitchen off the alleyway just across from a basement of dreams. We stood perplexed looking for something to do; “hey why not a photo or two”?
Broken mirrors longing for a time zone, shattered memories flying across the universe and sliding straight thru some social media doomed for bits and pieces, landing here right on the edge of some analysis, we sang, ”This is Major Tom to Ground Control’, we’re livin in a tin can, and there must be someway outa here’….and so it goes.
circa, Toms kitchen, Heit Lane Kitchener On. 80’s

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192 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/03

192 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/03 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Coral Andrews with pen and pad in hand interviewing some long haired rock star. I have no idea whom. We were probably back stage wandering about, having fun, doing our thing, staying out of trouble……until later on.
circa early 80’s probably

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191 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/02

191 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/02 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Francesco Anello after some days camping/canoeing in Algonquin Park. We had a few exciting moments there that we shall never forget, sacred and secret. Moments of great depth can surface when you least expect it. Things that change your life forever happen for meanings you make, but the truth, still, lives on hidden beneath the waves. We row on now turned towards something perceived greater. A new road slithers up and we keep rowing into the unknown. That’s the way our lives together as friends had gone. Small sections magnified by our own insight into enormous clouds that would disperse into the changing winds along the water ways. Canoeing with Francesco was all in a life dream come true. Great friend true doctor. Minds must trudge thru the jungle, but my heart is in the highlands with you.
circa, i don’t know, maybe around 2009 or so

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190 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/01

190 Image-Content of the Day 2018/09/01 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
JoJo Jo McLeod – way back from where she once belonged.
Some people come quick into your life and leave just as quick. Some stay a long time and find a warm space within your heart. That’s Jo.
We now live an hour away, me on the big island and her on a smaller one, with a twenty minute ferry ride between. Time flies, space moves, age slows, youth grooves, that’s just the way it is….
circa late 80’s

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189 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/31

189 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/31 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Andre StPierre walking thru those cold city streets of Little Berlin one brisk winter afternoon with the sun on his back and wind in his eyes.
A creative artist soul with his humour and finesse spread out now along the streets of inner-town Montreal.
Friends, they come and they go, one day they’re here and the next, gone…..there is always someone moving on, either to the other side or just further on down the line, and if you’re really lucky, leaving a few fond memories behind. Andre, a great guy in my aging mind.
circa 80’s (Kitchener On)

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187 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/29

187 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/29 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Lee Aaron; photographed back stage while Coral Andrews was interviewing her.
Coral and i roamed around thru a many a scene together back in the 70’s and 80’s.
Coral must have written literally thousands of articles by now about entertainment celebrities of all categories.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lee_Aaron

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186 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/28

186 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/28 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Men At Work……but i could be wrong, it’s been a long time.
I like the composition of this shot, could be an event poster image.
Kinda says all it needs to say, rock and roll, guitar, movement. Lots of black space for writing…..just the way i think.
circa 80’s sometime

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185 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/27

185 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/27 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Octopus Lady Offers an Escape
‘How I wish
How I wish you were here
We’re just two lost souls
Swimming in a fish bowl
Year after year
Running over the same old ground
What have we found?
The same old fears
Wish you were here’
PinkF
Circa 2001 aSpaceO

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184 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/26

184 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/26 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
A beautiful woman i remember. She was an inmate in P4W (Prison for Woman) in Kingston On. At that time, up into the 90’s, P4W was the only prison for woman in Canada. Canada is a huge country. Many inmates especially anishinabe had few, if any visits from family or friends thousands of miles away.
It was an honour to be a helper for Vern Harper whom conducted sweat lodge ceremonies here and in other prisons in Ontario.
The woman were always thankful and gracious for our support and work to make this happen for them. I remember hot afternoons working around the fire joking with the women and having to hide my camera when they would warm me that the warden was coming out to check on things. The warden was a nice person with a beautiful golden retriever that she would allow to roam around the yard. The women loved the freedom for the afternoon to laugh and also to have sincere conversations with Vern. There was always difficult decisions members of the sisterhood needed to deal with. The sweats were always hard and rewarding. You could tell from the spirit in the air.
circa early 90’s

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183 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/25

183 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/25 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
my good friend Morris Poile lookin serious…..back in the Kapka days way up there north of Thunder Bay…ceremonies for ten days in the spring and fall.
some of my most precious moments lay along that Kapka river and still soar up there around the mountain, Morris was always there lending a helping hand. a trickster with a good heart.
circa maybe 15 years ago or so.

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181 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/23

181 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/23 of-by patrick wey http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
i can’t keep up. Everything is moving too fast. I can’t understand this world. Yesterday it was so easy to believe. It was simple, things meant what they meant. Today everybody changes so fast there is nothing to hang on to. One day this is good for you and the next day it is life threatening. Makes you wonder if you yourself had it right. Maybe i am just as wrong as the rest, maybe things are meant to disappear, maybe life is nothing much at all. I think i best keep praying.
On the Streets, Circa 70’s 80’s 90’s etc.

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180 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/22

180 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/22 of-by patrick weyhttp://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
He stood out in to the night hidden. Light skimming across his mind. Trees folding arms straight into the sky. Shades of waves blending into the walls. His hold firm bold stern cool, lit a cigarette smoked himself into the scene.
Down the streets of Chiang Mai, heat pouring down the road, soft haze full and thick. Light waves swimming dreams thru the atmosphere bending into his blurry stance. The air wading thru the mood late still into the night, he thought, ‘time can be so smooth when you’re lost in a dream’.
Photo Circa Thailand 2017

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Patrick Wey

175 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/17

175 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/17 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
My friend Stan Maciaczyk thought he had a nose just like Bob’s. It’s Stans birthday today or yesterday or the day before…wow he is seven zero. This image was taken on my very first roll of film back in the late 60’s or the very early 70’s at my friend Don Tuckers house. Don painted that poster on to his wall in ultra violet paints that glowed in the dark with a black light…..wow

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174 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/16

174 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/16 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Andre Bernier and his three kids when they were much younger, Maya, Miles and baby Morgan. Andre passed away suddenly over a year ago. He was an amazing man of wood, anything about wood with wood for wood. I’d like to say we always saw eye to eye, we didn’t but neither of us ever ignored each other and always treated each other with respect. Andre had great integrity and i am sure he is greatly missed by his family, siblings and others. I took this picture in the old school house which is where his family lived. I lived in the front part of the huge one room old school house for a number of years. This picture shows how proud he was to be the father of these three lovely children.
Circa early eighties i beleive

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173 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/15

173 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/15 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Rick Hutt of Cedartree RecordingStudio an acquaintance then friend for 50 years or so. Rick has produced so much music i bet even he doesn’t know how many songs and compositions he has worked on. This in the old Cedartree studio when Doug Biggs was his partner and i hung around there learning computer skills in the late 80’s.
Both Doug and Rick have produced so much for this fleeting world. The list is a few light years long…Rick is one of the most interesting guys you could be honoured to know. Many have talked for hours with him about everything from this to that. Hello there from here.

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172 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/14

172 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/14 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I need a cafe to serve me words. I need a narrow road that leads to it. I need her to sit there and talk sometimes. There is a war outside the door. I don’t fit in this world. The demand to be is too great for this mind. Leave me alone here where i can write for no reason. My mother is dead, my daughter is dead, my brother is dead, there are many that are dead. The cafe is quiet this afternoon and sun light comes dancing in across the tables. The man in the corner is slowly sipping his tea. He looks around half interested in life but no one bothers him. She is talking again about her dreams and some thoughts about a future she knows will never exist. I look up occasionally and wonder, about nothing much, have a sip of coffee then continue to write words as if i was walking. There is a world outside at war. I never really understood what it was all about. People discontented with their lives, bullies pushing others around. The sun glistens off a wine glass and it looks beautiful for a few moments then disappears. The odd customer comes in, buys something then leaves. The day is normal. There is only the sound of soft people against hard dishes and the occasional street car in the distance. I love life today. She gets up and leaves. I write a few more words.

Image Circa late 80’s, cafe in Kensington Market Toronto; actor & friend Lindsay Stewart
Portrait of an Outsider
Alexandra Zaichanka picked this shot from my archives thinking it fit the literature.
I was listening to a CBC audio doc about Albert Camus’s book, The Outsider (sometimes referred to as The Stranger) which i read years ago. I was inspired and sat down and wrote the last paragraph to a fictitious novel called ‘Inside the Outsider’. A few of my bohemian friends fit this description as well as myself it appears.

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171 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/13

171 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/13 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
‘Even the Eternal Source is a Reflection’. With that statement i mean that there is no absolute anything, thought made it all up because of our fear of being simply mortal naked apes that think. All the gods, all the absolute laws, all the determinations to use reason to convince the brain that we are superior beings, aliens, creations in the likeness of gods, all definitive conclusions must be on trial endlessly; logic is no more than a tool to create technologies to explore the universe. There is no higher purpose. The eternal source is merely a shade of an infinite refection endlessly moving changing shifting. There is no great mystery that can be known. This denial is the source of all misery in the mind of man.
We have been conditioned with a need to believe in some formula from christ to buddha, to scientific law, politics, to happiness, enlightenment, afterlives to endless comforts and securities to soothe the fear of being in the natural state of simple unknowing clear observations. This is too scary and meaningless for the ego. Man has not changed at all since the cave man in his discomfort with his neighbour and his self, only the weapons have evolved. Think about it, if you can accept the fear to be without any direction home, no ritual to save you, no ceremony to ultimately calm you, no ideal to hang onto forever. There is no certainty in the mind of man, nothing is and never was. We have been fooled by the fears of the saviours, the saints, the holy men, the logicians. The body is all that is immortal, the mind is the illusion that fades and dies.
I am a man walking thru all history with a duffel bag strung over my shoulder hanging off my back and in my mental strength with my one hand holding a knife i slit the bag releasing the tons of beliefs, ideals, concepts, dogma, certainties, absolutes, sciences, securities, identities, words, abstracts, gods and demons and when the mind freaks out i grab the hole in the bag and breathe deep, slowly, grab my composure, resting into the new lesser emptier identity and when i’m strong and brave again i slit the bag once more and do it all over……….keep walking towards the illusion of the eternal source. Freedom from the known is the pathless trail to be. There is no method, like a coyote in the desert one just lives naturally. This may be impossible, but no more impossible than living with the illusions of ones absurd absolute beliefs and certainly much more honourable to the process of creation…………i suppose.
I don’t care what anyone thinks, i have more faith in the eyes of a crow than i do of any man. They are to the point, direct, real and without the illusions of the self fulfilling imagination of man. I move on from there.
circa 2017 Chiang Mai Thailand

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170 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/12

170 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/12 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
She held me in her hand, swung me to and fro, tripping down this cobble stone road with liquid air bubbling off the melting brick yellow with a sky full with turmoil set against a stage of oceans painted in atmosphere and caressing a magnificent sense of wonder lying in the streets below. Me in the handbag of hopes waving thru the speckled air, transforming into some formless light bending around the air like love in a summer afternoon and her dress free falling as matter disengaging from itself and splattering texture against the wind; she walked free into the day surreal and lovely.
Circa 2001 Montreal, St Paul Street, Old Montreal

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Patrick Wey

169 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/11

169 Image-Content of the Day 2018/08/11 of-by http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Rubin Hurricane Carter and Vernon Harper….Vern had a short lived boxing career, he loved boxing and one of his heroes was Rubin. Long before Rubin came into his life Vern admired him for his boxing and stamina surviving in a prison for almost twenty years for a crime he didn’t do….https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubin_Carter
Rubin attended a number of sweats down at Verns lodge before the film with Denzel Washington acting out his life as a boxer and prisoner….https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hurricane_(1999_film)
Vern is wearing an honorary Middle Weight Champion of the World belt given to Rubin just weeks before at a ceremony in Las Vegas honouring Rubin. This was one day down at the lodge before a sweat lodge ceremony with the two hurricanes proud. Verns boxing name was Hurricane Harper. The size of Rubins fist is almost the size of my head. Bob Dylan wrote in a song that helped to free Rubin………https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/bobdylan/hurricane.html
LAST THREE STANZAS
How can the life of such a man
Be in the palm of some fool’s hand?
To see him obviously framed
Couldn’t help but make me feel ashamed
To live in a land
Where justice is a game.

Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties
Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise
While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell
An innocent man in a living hell

Yes, that’s the story of the Hurricane
But it won’t be over ’til they clear his name
And give him back the time he’s done
Put in a prison cell but one time he could-a been
The champion of the world.
LIVE PERFORMANCE 1975
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfiK17FhP4g
Photo Circa early 90’s

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