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

288 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/08 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the early part of the century i made my living as a photographer on a tour boat in Xochimilco just on the south side of Mexico City. People called me Jose but my name was really Fernandez and i lived the life of a photo-specialist. Having the eye of an artist was just the beginning. In those days you had to know the science of lenses, the chemistry of film and developers and the physics of light. You had to be a mechanic of sorts to deal with all the apparatus and a carpenter and painter for sets, let alone a marketing genius and promotion manager just to stay in the business. I loved my work and photographed some of the many celebrities that visited the City from all over the globe. Up and down the canals of one of the most scenic places near the city. Flowers and vegetation showered the days with beauty and my life was in love with me. Things changed when 35mm cameras came into vogue and more and more people took their own images and the competition made the game much more challenging. I managed, i had a talent for staying in the game, i survived, lived a long life and have images in a few of the museums spread across the city. I died decades of years ago now and with the advent of digital modernism in all forms of media in the hands of the many, i survive only in the minds of a few surrealists and history buffs. This wandering 35mm gringo caught me doing my thing way before his time and he’s probably close to the final curtain himself if not already gone.
We shared a smile before our boats parted up and down the canal and that was that.
Image circa early 70’s – writing yesterday


287 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/07

287 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/07 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Strange the way waking-dreams weave in an out of mind. Troubled in the doorway of change, the delicate undertaker slips in to mind.
I swung in from the other side, just in time to see him leave for the top. They saw you trapped within your love but making it big on the social stage and that was good enough for you and you had already lost your honour towards the hard path, anyways. Meantime big business was buying up every green field of passion from here to the edge of the do-gooder horizon and you got sucked right in. When you thought you saw me there struggling in the forefront of humanity, you were mistaken, i wasn’t
struggling, i was breathing deep just before the night hit. I didn’t expect to turn in your heart or your expression on your delicate face when you saw me bend down to wash the feet of an unknown soul. What else could i do, the waves were pouring in, the crash was close and the immense pressure to surrender was overwhelming, i had no choice really and i’m glad the road turned and twisted into the dead end it is. How else could it have turned into this soft shadow slipping down the tears of your face? You, it seems were meant to be a star, it’s all over the media now, without much of a message, and without so much as a credit or a byline for the mysterious undertaker.
I stood there just on the verge when things changed and headed back from whence it came, the other side, leaving but with a few thoughts to get you through too.
Image circa late 70’s – writing yesterday

Patrick Wey

286 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/06

286 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/06 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Today everything is a little off. The mural on the wall is slightly tilted. The people don’t seem right. Their voices are gargled their smiles slanted. Everything is a little crooked. Colours are overly bright and in your face. The parrot is squawking more than normal and wavering back and forth shaking his gage in response to something that i can’t quite put my finger on. The music seems to be missing a few notes here and there, the sun can’t decide on showing up or staying away. The waitress is hesitating unsure of what to suggest.
Me, i feel fine, perfect of sorts, just wish my head didn’t exist for awhile, too much pressure in doing nothing, to get things right, to make it straight
Image circa 77…writing yesterday

Patrick Wey

285 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/05

285 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/05 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The sun is setting. Pelicans are diving deep. Sticky clouds are falling off the edge of the horizon. Waves are turning themselves in, folding up into the shore. The sky on the sea is blooming mauve, burgundy, shades of tangerine. Silhouettes of clifftop islands march into the open fields of the long ocean. Dreams sail across the waters as a warm breeze and history kisses the palms full of mellow truth and endless time.
The day is turning in, families are calming down and cuddling into the evenings
night and talking soft like the rolling waves along the endless shore line.
The smart phone has spread its wings of information into every mind along the beach. The glow of communications illuminates dark faces in the dusk of the towns spread along the beaches of civilization. We are connected. Music emanates from every space of humanity. Silence is rare and feared. The sound of nature considered boring and naive.
In a typical day and average mind hears more songs than most would have heard in a full life time from the mid eighteen hundreds and before. People have become addicted to entertainment. They can not function without some visual and/or sound piercing their brains all day long. In the car, in the home, in the street, in the shops, department stores, in the work place, in everything everywhere from sun up to sundown, thru the night, thru their meals, while they think from birth to death.
My attempt to find a quiet sunset failed. Only the silence i preserve inside can keep me calm. You either become numb and fall into the noice or one must learn the difficult possibly impossible techniques to eliminate the frequencies agitating the cells of ones being. Eventually the civil law will force head set use in areas just like the forced smoking space. Common sense has rarely been common and getting more rare as the minutes roll in from the avenues. Light pollution, sound pollution, toxic pollution, mind pollution. Mankind is a very rude specie.
The sun is down, i missed most of it dealing with the new humanity infiltrating my brain. Fake pounding drum beats driving itself to the core of the mind constantly everywhere. From LA to Zimbabwe, Shanghai to Siberia people and their light, sound, fumes follow you like a trail of prophesies down the long turbulent road of humanity.
I left the beach and headed along streets of scratchy noice bouncing off cement and metal from the dreamt up structures forcing gas-lit bulbed-light across smelly air and despite things, i felt alive. Here i am small town mexico accepting life as it is, watching young girls, some of them with more folds on their stomach than i and others dripping with tight tenderness remembered from so long ago. Old men, young men, broken bicycles, loud exhaust, sharp light and noice from every direction. Ah, the romance of the cobble stone road down soft lit dreamy streets just far enough away from the mad action of the centre of town. I made it, peace caressing my mind.
Wherever you go today most of society is active and noisy. Technology is a gift but certainly a curse for all of the other secondary species inhabiting, coexisting with us here on this majestic planet.
I am here and i love it, most of the time. You just have to learn how to weave in and out of the mess outside and to warm up to those cosy corners that one must protect so well, inside. A few deep breaths and then the focus, attention.
Image circa 1977 – writing yesterday

Patrick Wey

283 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/03

283 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/03 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
The church, the cathedral, the lords house with its high ceilings and its sacred echo of angelic song and the voice of the lord emanating from high above the gold glazed alters. One can not mistaken the presence of pain and suffering jesus bestowed for the hearts of humanity to elevate themselves from venom of the earth to a higher order in the presence of god himself.
While the poor praise with their last material wealth to be in the presence of the lord, in their church of worship for the salvation of all, while at the same time the clergy, the bishops and priests live within wealthy walls and eat from the sweat, blood and toil of the congregation. The vatican being one of the wealthiest institutions on the planet let alone all the protestant jesus follower institutions of one kind or another. It is overwhelming that this continues while the planet dies.
I cannot continue writing about this hypocrisy and realize how many millions upon millions have bought into this absolute rubbish. It is just way too much for this brain to comprehend. There is more than enough evidence for one to discover this deceptive structure if one really wants to know the way it is. We got the internet, google, you tube, tons of info, there is no excuse other than a lack of courage and will.
I remember when i first entered a sweat lodge. It was a windy winter night in December, cold and snowing. The ground was frozen as we crawled into the sweat lodge church to sit on mother earth and talk with our creator, the grandfathers, the wind, the water. With shorts and a towel and not until everyone was inside and the hot glowing grandfathered rocks were brought in did the space begin to heat up. I remember realizing that no matter how powerful one medicine man became he could only instruct no more than the number that could physically sit in this church, his/her sweat lodge. It could never be institutionalized, it would never have gold statues and high echoed angelic ceilings. You had to be brave humble and sincere to crawl into this church and anyone was welcome, the priest, the medicine man was merely a conductor for procedures to run smooth and safe, but the teachings came from elsewhere. Many visions occur in this physically symbolic womb of mother earth.
The church in this image is one of millions on this planet with a wealth undescribable to most members. It is totally disgusting, unjust, useless and serves mankind as a cover-up for real so called spiritual work. It is time for humanity to wake up and shut down these institutions that are sucking their wealth and their souls dry.
This is my opinion and apparently jesus had a similar concept; possibly he implanted this in my brain.. I was brought up catholic and it took years to scrape the quilt off my soul for feeling condemned for what would be called blasphemous for realizing the total insane structure of the church and all its fabricated higher order.
I understand that people feel they need to have something to believe in. Most do not have the will or integrity to truly investigate for themselves and the few that do often take the easy intellectual route with a few schizophrenic like visions as proof that it must all be real. A few visions are just the tip of the iceberg on the real road of the pathless trail.
Of course nothing of the sort is going to happen in my life time. But i don’t need jesus, moses, mohammad, budha, and all the other gurus and entities to be right and honest and true and i don’t believe anyone else does neither. If anything, we need to be saved from this conventional institutionalized religious dogma before all mankind and the earth is completely destroyed. That includes the strict beliefs in anything including cast-iron science; the law is changing moving evolving, the mathematics of tomorrow will be a religion of the past. It is simple, as thought is stationary and still, reality is moving and on the go. One must dive deep into the abyss to see how shallow the idealistic nature of the ego really is and how to un-stick its nature.
It feels right and true to walk within the changing tide, scary at times but as it should be and never the less, as it is.
This church as so many others is a beautifully architecturally designed structure and though i do appreciate the ingenuity and beauty of mans creations, overall, my heart prefers the architecture of nature and for prayer and revelations, the simple humble structure and immense powers of the sweat lodge.
The war of the gods is all in the heads of man.
Image 1977 Mexico – writing yesterday

Patrick Wey

282 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/02

282 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/02 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Crashing waves along the shore curve of quantum waters sucking to its core. This is the energy path, the movement that all matter, a low-vibration-substance must abide by. All physical things follow a path laid out before itself. The big bang didn’t explode it just appears that way. A silent energy movement sucks matter to itself endlessly in an opposite direction. Gravity is a weak matter movement overpowered by levity. All matter moves towards this unseen energy as water from a mountain creek flows downwards attracted towards an upwards stream of unseen levity energy pulling the water with a downwards gravity to itself.
I collected these concepts from observations that ended up here inside my imagination. Imagination as gravity and direct non-thought observation as levity. All laws are theory that even on their best days only work most of the time. It always ends up in the same playing field, the math of thought is limited and reality is always infinite and beyond, a knowing that slips in and out of consciousness, leaving non-absolute thought in its wake. The mind is a myth.
Imagine an unknown energy movement in the shape of a tornado parabolic cone that is sucking matter from outside the vortex cone lid but is travelling inwards towards the centre of the spiral vortex. To the observer it looks like an explosion of matter outwards like our big whopper of a bang theory. The closer you get to the inside movement of the unseen inward energy the more matter is spewed outwards looking like a force exploding creating matter from the opposite levity movement that is in control….eg: gravity as 1 (outwards) mass of matter and levity energy as 1.618infinity (inwards); the golden mean found everywhere in the universe, a constant made from an infinite number which is not constant at all……..but close enough.
You don’t have to leave the planet to observe this phenomenon, you can observe it in nature everywhere from all the golden mean fibinochi movements of buds and plants sprouting, pine cones and the relationship of the fibonacci sequence of eight rows of seeds twirling downwards and five whirling upwards, flowers and their parabolic outwards growth movement, leaves in spring time unfolding and even water whirling down your toilet……….its everywhere and well documented these days via the Tube.
It is hard at first to wrap your head around that all matter is moving because of an opposite energy movement more powerful sucking to itself. So the sucking inwards imploding unseen movement is dominant. It took me many years before i could see and feel this understanding as a fact and as a more natural reasonable movement of matter, especially in reference to water and air. Levity was a much more common possibility before Newton came along and shifted science to a more destructive explosive way of thinking about matter and the dominance of gravity. Quantum physics is changing that again. We will never get it completely right but working within natures natural ways can help us live in a much more harmonized condition from technology to psychology. Often our science believes it can force and reshape reality without concern of disturbing the sacred unequal balance of the golden mean and that means much more than we may think. It appears we can manipulate the balance for awhile before real destructive forces take hold. If we are smart and humble enough and realize the folly and stupidity of our arrogance it may be possible to rebalance this delicate balance.
This is a simplified reason why explosive energy is destroying the balance of nature. It must be fuelled constantly whereas implosive energy movement forms will constantly move matter of air and water in an implosive, increased velocity direction…..Viktor Schauberger investigated this understanding thoroughly and devised numerous devises to give us all and more of what we need in energy, transportation, heat and cold without any pollution whatsoever. Our society is not ready it appears and the monstrous monetary system based on the explosive technological fuelling system will not crumble easily, probably until it is too late, it may already be too late. Most environmental ‘save-the-planet’ movements are bandages that will eventually also collapse but at least it has people realizing we need a major transformation.. If one was truly interested there is more than enough info online these days concerning Viktor Schauberger and Implosive Biotechnology. It appears that most of us have been too tainted or numbed down to understand the simplicity of our misunderstanding of natures ways.
Schauberger also predicted this predicament. It is no ones fault, it is everyones.
I am walking along the coast with my freind. I see the beauty of the crashing waves to the gentle minds along the cove. I also see the unseen disaster in every imbalanced cell tainted by mankind’s greed based technology creating a dangerous momentum towards our doom in every cell-call we make, every folk of food we eat, every plane ride we take, every thought we use to cover up natures message with a wink.
I am enjoying a cool drink and letting the beauty of the setting sun swim slowly over my one opened eye. I love this life and all its contradictions……….wink!
Image circa west coast 2018 – writing yesterday


281 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/01

281 Image-Content of the Day 2018/12/01 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Remember when we were young how nothing much mattered. It was all so immediate, the closest things at hand were all that we paid attention to. One minute we were laughing and the next questioning and learning something new. Simple things kept us amused for hours, dislikes tormented us every time they arrived in our mind. Food we hated to taste but were forced to digest turned us into panic, tears, disgust.. We would cry as if the world was about to end.
When we were tired we just wanted someone we loved to be close. I suppose we have learned to control these reactions as age developed but it makes you wonder occasionally with the way we are still so often like grown up kids.
There are billions of pictures of children these days and more and more being created every second. Black and white and gray. The texture of the background wall against the casual stance of a young man watching over his younger sister protecting her from any possibility of harm. This was in a time when it is quite likely that they had never been photographed before; an honour possibly, a suspect likely.
Love weaves itself in and out of reality like an intricate cloth woven by special angels and occasionally the past arrives early to a future for one more short glance at a dream that never was.
Hello my name is Rodriquez and this is my sister Catalina. I am almost fifty years old, my sister died young from complications with her heart. It broke after my dad left. My mother struggled alone for years. She made sure i got the best education i could. I am a doctor in a costal town of west Mexico. I am married with three kids, two daughters and a son all healthy and beautiful. I remember this man with light skin pointing this glass object at us while we were playing around in our corridor. I later learned that those glass medal objects were cameras. I began to wonder about the image suddenly stolen from my childhood and how we looked, my dear sister and i.
With unlikely possibility one evening doing online research about heart surgery in Mexico i stumbled across some Mexican images taken by a photographer from Canada. I couldn’t believe my eyes when i saw this black and white and gray image of two children against a textured cement gray wall…..that was me and my dear sister Catalina.
i haven’t contacted the photographer patrick wey yet but someday i will. This is the only image that exists of my sister. i remember when we were young and nothing much mattered.
Unlikely stories from lost dreams.
Image circa 1977 writing yesterday

280 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/30

280 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/30 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
One must walk out on your own, carry your own load. Days’ll be tough, roads long but no ones gonna do it for ya. There’s always another day to work your magic till there’s not. There is always someone carrying a heavier load than yours so help them on their way. There will always be the ones that will criticize any attempt you make in being real, in being simple and honest. Jealousy is inherent in us all to different degrees but yet we continue to ‘point’ with every finger we have to our hearts content and then some. Social media is encouraging the destruction of humanity but there is more to it than that. You’re destroying this earth, this world, you and all your fucking constant manipulations and deceit to ramming your belief systems no matter what they are down the throats of others. You just can’t conceive of a world where everyone accepts that we don’t really know anything for certain and that for centuries you have been played the fool, it has all been fabricated, manufactured, formulated to control this and that, you and them for money and power. That is the simple explanation and of course your mind now is screaming with every breath with just the possibility in knowing that your mind may be totally fucking wrong. And who in the hell am i to suggest this. Well i’m just a guy who has gone to the edge so many times and been up and down so many trails and talked to gods and devils to the trees the waters and all has lead me to a love that thought can not know. The truth is unknowable in this way. You can not bring truth back from the heavens with your mind but you can tell fantastic stories and some of these tales may help others with their burdens, their carts of conclusions and definite abstracts but they must eventually crumble to live free, real and as the super humans we are being drawn towards to be, possibly.
It is all too scary for most so we cling onto the secure cluster of thoughts we call our sacred greed with our god, our creator, our ideals, our science, institutions and authority. Possibly that used to work in a society geographically separated but in this unified world where numerous earth species and human extinction is very real and on our front door step, it is just not acceptable any longer. We all have to question the validity of our very minds and what we with its’ tool of thought ‘reason’ can really be known and what, if anything, can we all believe together as one race, one people. Our beliefs are killing each other, the world and the scared love we all so desperately want to believe exists.
We continue to pull our wagons of truth carry our loads of beliefs thru the streets and avenues hoping to arrive somewhere for good, forever but where do we end up but back here, right back here on the back porch of discontent with an eager uncertain smile beaming out through our front door……….
Possibly the only answer is for…………another day; (brave ventures into the unknown crevices of the mind; psychedelics, isolation tanks, sweats, vision quests, whatever dissolves the ego whereas real truth and love may hold you for a moment or two)
What can i say, my self is on the line, bending, changing with every image.
Image circa 1977, writing yesterday

Mexico | DSC_0118.tif
Patrick Wey

279 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/29

279 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/29 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I came to tell you a few things. About the way things were when most of you were asleep amongst the sheep. There were hard rain hurricanes and soft elusive lights on every window sill from London to LA. Hardly a soul saw what was coming but there were a few blue eyed sons walking the alleyways. There could have been a new world, a much better way to live out our time here in the sacred womb of the earth. There was a force like never before to make things right but we were driven down like we were the enemy. All we really wanted was to care for everything to the limit but you wouldn’t let us. You stomped us into the ground, squashed us into the dirt beneath your greedy feet. You manipulated the masses into believing you were on their side and now after all these years many more have awakened and yet still so many half asleep, numb, sedated.
I left the streets for the coast, too much confusion here, too much conflict between the dreams.
In the cool light of the night i look back and wonder, could it really have shone, this love we saw, this love we felt for everything together like one.
Wasn’t there more than enough to go around and now it’s obviously much too late, the gates closed, the collaboration has gone solo. You’re on your own, the world is not one, it’s every man for himself. The beatles are listening to dylan again and just like a bunch of well worn rolling stones, memory has been tainted, distorted, twisted like a length of dangling rope, waiting.
And so it goes, stranded like the night, walking.

Image circa 2010 – writing yesterday


278 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/28

278 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/28 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
There is so much more that could be said. You think you can get away with a few trips into your head as if time was constant and to be resolved. You are attached to everything, the furthest star is your neighbour the smallest spec a long wave. Every theory you attempted to own, owned you in the end. There was no end, there is no end. A few years ago you were sitting as you are but in a desert night with a cactus as your guide and visions of patterned chaos in control of everything. The jesus you knew transformed into a few creatures before your eyes, and did tricks for you, the dream in a dream of a dream took you beyond yourself. You found no self. You belong to no one. What you thought was real melted into the desert sands. A medicine man appeared from the fire, sang you into a scene, took you places you’ll never remember, taught you to realize nothing really matters but everything has a consequence. Laws evolve, everything is a reflection. Freedom drives consciousness into itself but reason will always be a weak truth.
As i sat there inside of you, i could feel your discomfort with the way things are. You were hoping for things to follow but they didn’t, just when you thought you had it together things changed. These are simply words crashing into one another attempting a dialogue with themselves. They can not go any further than the edge of mind. The vast space is thoughtless and demands you leave yourself at the gate but there is no barrier.
It was a hot day on the Zocalo, i had a few moments alone before my life was to return. I sat there letting the mind go as it did. It is strange how a simple glimpse can take you so far. Who would have ever suspected how vast the mind can travel in a few flashes of our time. Who could have known what had been implanted as i had pondered here in meditation. You, me, future, past,, interwoven for a flash.
circa the Main Zocalo Mexico City 1977 – literature yesterday.

Patrick Wey

276 Your elusive walls and delicate lies.

276 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/26 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Your elusive walls and delicate lies. The beauty beneath your skin and the avenues so in tune to you. How could anyone misplace you? The door keeper with his facade entered like he owned you but you didn’t let on, you kept your dignity and caressed his heart with your magnitude and sunset eyes. The times they had changed, by the day end the war was over and no-one cared about your degrees and folded up knowledge, the world was focused on intricate entertainment, the type that slowly squeezes you inside and bends you out of shape. The way you handled the saints and all their prodigies as if you cared with your sensitive love and the dreamy touch you gave just when they thought they could own you. How did you escape with so few scars, what did you have to sell to get here, what did you tell the commissioner, how did you convince the judge.
There are so few that understand the things that must be understood to touch the other side. There is no sense in trying to explain the visions to the blind. In this world of sound there isn’t a single chord out of place and when you’re playing hard with your soft heart it can ease the most weary from that sharp death. You were seen by a few as you disappeared inside the photographs on the wall. That was me there behind the camera long before this night. This is a setup, a scene from some burned out city street and i was sent by who knows who to document you. This is it, there were jokers and thieves down by the docks just waiting for the ship to come in. They waited hundreds of years for this night without hardly a sense of what was about to happen.
But things changed again, you never showed up and the ship died at sea. It just goes to show you flat out that you can’t depend on prophecies any more than the night. This portrait of you by your windows reflection with your truth so well concealed.The tainted glass-wall of the window is behind you now.
I always wanted to tell you just how much this moment meant but time twisted me out of your life and all that i have left now is this grey image of you looking out your open window to the dark tar valley below.
Image circa 80’s – writing yesterday

Patrick Wey

275 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/25

275 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/25 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I am a pig and i love this rugged landscape. They call me Jose when they want my attention. I have the freedom to wander wherever i want. Somedays i just sit and look over into the mountains. I watch the lizards roam around in the desert sand, well, i imagine them. Sometimes i feel like another entity, like i shape shifted or something like that, became a coyote for awhile and meandered around the hot sands from one shady nook to the next.
This area used to be more populated a couple hundred years ago, you can still see the old walls melted into the mountain slopes. They named this place Real De Catorce. To this day Huichol medicine people come here to the lowlands at different times of the year to harvest the sacred Peyote cactus. They do ceremonies in the desert evening air and connect with the spirits of their ancestors from here and off into distant lands, even other planets stars and stars away. Occasionally i’ve felt their presence slipping thru my mind but they mostly swim-shift thru to the more wild ones, crows, snakes, eagles, coyotes and such.
I’m totally at home here. It’s less stress, i get fed often enough. Yes my life is cut short but my little ones carry on. It’s all the same to me, i don’t remember much and it’s just the way it is.
Image 1977, writing yesterday


274 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/24

274 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/24 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Some say I’m negative, my words depressing. So what. Those are usually the ones that want it all sweet and certain. I use to care but that was yesterday. I don’t attempt to find the negative in this world it just presents itself, there’s plenty of it to go around but that doesn’t depress me and if it does you, well what can i say, put another pretty picture on your wall, i’ve got thousands of um for the right price. You see, i need um too.
I didn’t travel down these roads to get anything in particular, and if i found some good fortune along the trail it was because i stuck to the path, stayed focused on the mission at hand, but most of the time i didn’t evaluate life in those terms. I just wiped any past off as best i could and kept walking. No, it never disappeared completely, death’ll do that but it did allow for a new breeze to blow against this mind while i rambled on.
I don’t have much use for the superficial shit that floats around but i accept it the best i can and no doubt, i have contributed my own fare share. I ain’t no saint and i never said i was and if you think i implied a ‘holier than thou’ attitude, well you’ve been mistaken, i’m just a guy that was looking for something that it appears no one has ever found and i see now, no one ever will. Most lie and want you to believe what they believe, but it’s all made up, a fantasy, a dream. So when i see most people wandering down a similar terrain expecting it all for nothing, no hardship, no desert nights alone with nothing but you and you and you. Well sometimes it makes me laugh and others times it just makes me sick. A lack of compassion some do say, a lack of this or a little of that, whatever, hit the road jack and that does it for me, i’m gone. As i said, i don’t care, shove your face-look social praise where the sun don’t shine. There ain’t anyone i have to please but if a few find my words resemble some thoughts roaming around in their own questioning brains, well then that’s great, reassuring of sorts, but it doesn’t change a thing, just feels a little less lonely in here, i suppose.
The curtain falls and i can feel the next scene supposing itself just beyond some dream on another slippery edge of time. So i better move on, so as to catch the next glimpse of light, when it shows up.
Image circa 1977 but it could have been tomorrow.


273 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/23

273 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/23 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Is there anybody listening asked the traveler? Is there any room left on the walls for a little piece of me? You see i’m just like you, i need a name to capture my thoughts upon too. Something to die for, something to hang on to, something to let go of. The hills in the distance are too far, the beach is too hot, the streets too slow for dreaming. A simple breeze skims thru the palms, some birds fly by inside a blue sky. There is so much more somewhere, so many things i could have done, could have been. Here i am mellow and belonging to no-one. A few dreams float by and i catch a glimpse. I let them go, there are others they can catch, still in need of purpose. I am content to hold nothing. I am a simple vessel, one that lives for nothing, cares when i care and one whom holds no ideal to dear.
They appear out of nowhere just in the nick of time, the little ones, the bright ones. When you least expect it, love covers you. Love so free and yet it costs so much. All your dreams, all your conclusions crash away when the waters of mystery sails upon your soul.
Image circa 1976 – writing yesterday

Patrick Wey

272 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/22

272 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/22 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
In the early morning mist stuffing newspapers for a few bucks on the way to the top. You got your dreams and i got mine we’re just different fantasies caught in time. This day is long gone and the news faded into the streets like dying dreams do, into peoples lives, into their souls, into the cracks of their bedroom walls.
It’s hard to imagine just what happened here. Where were they goin when the ads got sandwiched into the rag, when their job was done, where did they end up from the heat and the heart of the metropolis?
The city was barely awake, the all night people were crawling home, traffic polite and sparse, the silent folk were scraping their thoughts together and the avenues rolled into the dawn with a grateful smile while the steady hum of machine slowly wound its routine louder and further along the tar. Alive again, another day with the news headed for the masses, little written words jammed into packets of meaning to get them through the day.
The daily news so yesterday and so over done. The love of life for a few cents and a glass of time. This is life in the city; clean, straight, forward, entertaining on a good day.
Image circa 1977 Mexico City

Patrick Wey

271 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/21

271 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/21 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
Nice to be back in a land where people greet you in the streets. Where there isn’t the typical western paranoia. They are hesitant sometimes unsure of what type of a gringo you might be. Many gringos don’t even look at you so it is obvious why many Mexicans are hesitant to give you their tradition. They feel the vibes, the arrogance, the useless conclusions swimming around northern brains. The age old ‘better than thou’ attitude lingers on like a fool in a sinking trade.
In this town you can still go to the zacalo (town square) on most evenings especially Saturdays and see families, neighbours, young and old intermingle. The whole cross section of the town connects in this square. This is their life, their way, a slow pace long forgotten in the north of the americas.
It is all not so romantic. There is the noice, a different attitude here concerning music everywhere. At least most of it is Mexican style country rather than the pounding drums of rap, bad rock, hip hop and what have you. Accordion, stand up base, acoustic guitar and that’s it, simple and softer.
For the most part you can usually escape the traditional chatter once you find a few hideaways along well worn cobble stone roads with small tiendas and local restaurants of real foods and mothers and daughters holding hands as they stroll thru the evening air. Old men sitting in old broken structures that resemble chairs and kids playing with amigos and genuine waves of love floating around their poverty.
It’s a soft life here….most of the time.
These quaint places are diminishing as more and more western traits capture the youth with the frills of a more modern life. It is a western trend to travel the world these days or you’re a nobody which is another aspect destroying the simple life.
In the end it is mostly your own choice if you want the glamour, the gold, a simple love or the complexities of the modern man.
I can’t do justice to the beauty and the destruction here so i best leave this gentle night to the roosters in the distance and dogs singing their bark.
Image circa 1977

Patrick Wey

270 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/20

270 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/20 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
I don’t know what it all could possibly mean. What reasons are there for the way things are? What matters in the end? What matters in the beginning? What matters in-between? Does anything have to matter or do we just want it that way?
How long do i have to carry this burden? How did it ever get to be this way? How long do i have to be persecuted?
Will they ever learn? Who staged this scenario? Whom is to blame? What certainty do i have to offer? How long will they honour these dreams? It can’t go on forever. I came in and i’m bound to go out. Thought can not get back in behind the gates of eden, it can’t even crawl there. They are doomed to want what they can’t get; to be certain of the uncertain, to dream their lives away.
Reality is just something to be proud about but it doesn’t exist for long.
I suppose i’ll carry this mess for awhile longer, but even illusions become unbearable and have to die.
Image circa 1977

Patrick Wey

269 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/19

269 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/19 of-by patrick wey  http://patrickwey.com/blog/category/image-content-of-the-day
She looked straight at me. She knew. She didn’t look thru me. She was calm with what she saw. Her world was understood in a mysterious way. She didn’t need to know what would happen next. She could deal with change like it was a natural thing to do. She didn’t think about all this. Her thoughts were simple and moved along without the burden of a tough dream. She was too young to have been conditioned too strong but the youth in her mind was also of her. A strong young child with a woman in her eyes.
You would think she was looking away, a reflection set on going in a different direction, a parallel dream captured by accident.
This is the way it was, one lens, one frame.
She was moving to the other side with her mind. Her eyes saw something out of view. It’s anybodies guess where things were going or ended up. She could be a fifty year old doctor in Venezuela or a wife with three children on the outskirts of the City, or a drug addict in Pensilvania. She could be a lot of things. We don’t know.
Images can do that to your soul. Take you places that don’t exist. Give you a reason to live, an understanding that makes sense. Old photographs have a way of traveling thru your mind like a movie mostly fiction with just enough reality to make it real.
Image circa 1977

Patrick Wey

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

268 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/18 of-by patrick wey  http://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

Patrick Wey

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

267 Image-Content of the Day 2018/11/17 of-by patrick wey  http://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

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

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.

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….

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


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

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


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.


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….


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


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


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


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


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.

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

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…

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


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.


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


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


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……
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


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.


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

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

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.


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


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


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


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


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….



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

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

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


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

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/

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.


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…


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.
image circa 90’s content yesterday


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


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
circa dundas st. toronto, china town 80’s


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


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


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


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.

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
for evermore

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.


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.


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

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


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


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


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)


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.


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


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’
Circa 2001 aSpaceO


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


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.