About
Jermistry
- title in Elvish
- Xoomij listen
- All about Darjeeling
- Learn Hebrew- start with
- Vineyard Music
- "To You" (me on Irish Whistles)
- "Coogee Day" (JM on Kurzweil)
- NZ photoes
- Tassie photoes
- NY&VA photoes
- Монгол&Сибирь
- Kelong photoes
- Cellgroup Stuff
- James' Grad
- Yunnan Pix
Archives
- ноября 2003
- декабря 2003
- января 2004
- февраля 2004
- марта 2004
- апреля 2004
- мая 2004
- июня 2004
- июля 2004
- августа 2004
- сентября 2004
- октября 2004
- ноября 2004
- декабря 2004
- января 2005
- февраля 2005
- марта 2005
- апреля 2005
- мая 2005
- июня 2005
- июля 2005
- августа 2005
- сентября 2005
- октября 2005
- ноября 2005
- декабря 2005
- января 2006
- февраля 2006
- марта 2006
- апреля 2006
- мая 2006
- июня 2006
- июля 2006
- августа 2006
- сентября 2006
- октября 2006
- ноября 2006
- декабря 2006
- января 2007
- февраля 2007
- марта 2007
- апреля 2007
- мая 2007
- июня 2007
- июля 2007
- августа 2007
- сентября 2007
- октября 2007
- ноября 2007
- декабря 2007
- февраля 2008
speak friend and enter
среда, октября 10, 2007
In Memoriam - Ode to a Numerical Chamber
September 2004 to September 2007
I devote this entry to the loss of a very faithful gadget, one that's been dependable through rain, hail, snow and dust, through siberian winter to australian summer, to steamy laotian villages in the monsoon, frosty mongolian nights with frozen fingers to the confusion of a barcelona fishmarket, from the great sanctuaries of gothic cathedrals to the open expanse of the pacific on a sail boat.
You have captured moments of joy, mundanity, life, the sacred, the sad; taken comets in glory, mighty constellations, delicate flowers, insects in love, galloping herds of deer, eagles in flight, pods of humpback whales in migration, crackle of great fires. Preserved for time the fickleness of emotions, the journal of travel, marking of births, documented relationships, music and dance and art in motion. Through your humble lenses you have sought to recreate vast deserts, the drama of the wilderness, magic of nacreous clouds, the intimacy of candle light. Friendships, rest, tests and risks. You have been dropped, lost, found, relost and refound; seen some of the best musicians from around the world, taken some astounding cuisine, captured humanity's finest art, and the most fabulous gems in the world. You were a personification of the faithful testifying witness, without bias, without qualms.
Yet now you are silent, alone, misplaced. You reside removed from my influence, lost in the bowels of international flight and schedule. Aloof, your lenses are silent, the apertures no longer obey, the pixels no longer fire. You are gone, faithful scribe. Fare you well. May you one day find your way back, in all mystery...!
You will join my list of stuff to ask God in heaven... along with other missing items/persons that have sometimes kept me awake in the quiet hours. Like whatever happend to my black notebook that I passed around in JC2 or that missing tape recording of the Tolkien poems or that kid on the street in Ulaan Bataar. I believe CS Lewis had some theology/philosophy about such things as you, that somehow you might be restored to me in heaven (even faithful dogs), by virtue that you form an extension of who I might be.
September 2004 to September 2007
I devote this entry to the loss of a very faithful gadget, one that's been dependable through rain, hail, snow and dust, through siberian winter to australian summer, to steamy laotian villages in the monsoon, frosty mongolian nights with frozen fingers to the confusion of a barcelona fishmarket, from the great sanctuaries of gothic cathedrals to the open expanse of the pacific on a sail boat.
You have captured moments of joy, mundanity, life, the sacred, the sad; taken comets in glory, mighty constellations, delicate flowers, insects in love, galloping herds of deer, eagles in flight, pods of humpback whales in migration, crackle of great fires. Preserved for time the fickleness of emotions, the journal of travel, marking of births, documented relationships, music and dance and art in motion. Through your humble lenses you have sought to recreate vast deserts, the drama of the wilderness, magic of nacreous clouds, the intimacy of candle light. Friendships, rest, tests and risks. You have been dropped, lost, found, relost and refound; seen some of the best musicians from around the world, taken some astounding cuisine, captured humanity's finest art, and the most fabulous gems in the world. You were a personification of the faithful testifying witness, without bias, without qualms.
Yet now you are silent, alone, misplaced. You reside removed from my influence, lost in the bowels of international flight and schedule. Aloof, your lenses are silent, the apertures no longer obey, the pixels no longer fire. You are gone, faithful scribe. Fare you well. May you one day find your way back, in all mystery...!
You will join my list of stuff to ask God in heaven... along with other missing items/persons that have sometimes kept me awake in the quiet hours. Like whatever happend to my black notebook that I passed around in JC2 or that missing tape recording of the Tolkien poems or that kid on the street in Ulaan Bataar. I believe CS Lewis had some theology/philosophy about such things as you, that somehow you might be restored to me in heaven (even faithful dogs), by virtue that you form an extension of who I might be.
