Look up.

S

heesh. I started this post and forgot about it. Until now.

I try to post at noon my time. Obviously, I’m late. Very late. Sorry about that.

Let’s talk about stupidity and failure.

There is a guy who posts as NOLAphotoguild on Instagram. Today he wrote an eight page screed about freedom. I bet you know where this is going. He is calling for an end to all protections, all testing, all vaccinations for all things Covid. He wants FREEEEDUM.

A little research, starting on Facebook, revealed that he has started a number of photo-oriented ventures. Everyone of them failed. He started what amounts to a collective on Instagram. It earns no money but it has a lot of followers. He finally has one thing. A platform.

He’s bitter. He has a platform. His bitterness is going to kill someone like me.

What next?


Symbolic of changing.

T

oday is a big day.

In New Orleans, January 6th marks the start of Carnival with a parade through The French Quarter and a streetcar ride. It only grows from here until the season ends on Mardi Gras Tuesday.

More importantly, today marks the one year anniversary of the insurrection, storming and temporary take over of the United States Capitol in Washington, D.C.

One event marks a season of joy, the other, a country filled with hate. I could recap what happened but it is enough to say that a former president would do anything to hold onto power. He was not used to being told no. Many of his followers believed him. Most of them still do. The attacked our government. They attacked my belief system and my country.

They say the presidential election was stolen. After audit upon audit there is no evidence of that, so I reply to the so-called stop the steal group, “Prove it.” Don’t tell me you know. Tell me what and how you know.

You can’t.

This picture is more spring-like than wintery. It is about rebirth. The nation is tottering right now. Between extreme polarization, a weakened economy and Covid-19 to name a few issues, don’t you think it’s time for a little rebirth?

I do.


A long day.

A

dark sky along with a dark day.

I’m trying to decide two moral dilemmas. I suppose we all should take the high road, but I also feel that paybacks are in order to just to make sure that consequences of short sightedness are understood.

First, understand that I stand with all the states and people who were hurt by the weekend tornadoes. I know what it’s like to feel natures wrath. I’m with them all the way, but one of those states senators has voted no to every federal request for aid after a natural disaster. We, in the gulf south are still picking up pieces after Hurricane Ida blew through. Should we take the high road and help with federal aid. Or, do we say no with the intent that the voters in the state kick that dumb bonehead out of office? You tell me.

Then, there is me. My body. My primary care doctor will no longer prescribe Tramadol, the most lightweight of all opioids ever made. A couple of weeks ago, after trying to find ailments that don’t exist in me, he decided to take away NSAIDS, leaving me with only Tylenol to fight inflammation. I’ve been in agony for days. I can’t even sit up long enough to get any meaningful work done. That’s why I’m always late here.

This doctor never even looks at me, instead typing away at the examination room computer.

This is closer to home than the states that were blown apart. I’m inclined to help those folks, just as I’m inclined to have my lawyer write my doctor a love note. If that doesn’t get his attention it’s off to court we go.

Put me in pain and I’m going to do the same to you. I’m not normally like that, but enough is enough.

It’s reckoning time.


A study in moonochrome.

T

his picture. This very one. I wanted to publish it today even thought we aren’t quite to this point.

Why?

Because I could and felt like it. That’s reason enough even if it isn’t the best reason. I suppose I could tell you some story about my thinking, but there isn’t any. Stories or reasoning.

Maybe there is some thinking behind this picture because it looks so bleak. Bleak is where we are headed. Straight to hell.

As you probably know there was a big environmental meeting in Europe that concluded last Friday. Everything was watered down. Cut car emissions? Around some moving date. Cut methane gas? Only if China and India can continue to burn coal.

I realize meetings like this are about negotiations, but this is just stupid. And, the politicians just don’t get it. Most of them are a little too old to care. They’ll be dead and buried before the world turns really nasty. Sheesh. New Orleans will be under six feet of water before we take the first step to mitigate that.

Me? I’m tired of living through 100 storms every sixteen years.

These do nothing politicians should come down here after a hurricane blows through, not for the couple of air conditioned hours they spend when they make some kind of fact finding trip, but for a week in the heat without power, food or water.

Maybe, they’ll learn.

What am I thinking? They are politicians.


An autumn evening.

T

he title comes from Bob Dylan. The picture is my third try at publishing. There were no problems. I just didn’t like the picture. I tried reworking the first one, but that didn’t fly. I may try reworking it from the original. I well over defined the clouds on the processed images which made the picture, er, weird.

I found this image and decided that I like blue.


In the distance.

S

o. I turned in another direction and saw this sky which was very different from the one that I showed you yesterday. The brightness of the light as I looked across the scene changed everything including the color intensity.

In case you are wondering, the weather is still cool and dry. In fact, it’s even cooler today than it was yesterday. The weather should stay that way for a few days. Warmth will return for a day or two as summer struggles to hold onto its grip only to fail as the sun moves lower in the sky until it begins to rise after the shortest day of the year.

We’ll pass through Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, The Twelfth Night and, with luck, Mardi Gras. That’s a funny way of looking at things, isn’t it?

Mardi Gras matters down here.

Not only are there a huge number of tourists who pump millions dollars into our economy that we dearly need, but there is a feeling of celebration in the air. We could use a little celebration after these two long, dark years. I could use being on the streets to photograph something that I love. For me, that’s enough.

In other words, I’ve come to a place where I have to weigh risk and reward. It’s not lost on me that if I get sick with the virus I could die. But, living the way I’m living now may keep my body alive, but my spirit and soul are dying. If they die, what I have preserved?

Tell me, what’s left?


It begins with the first step.

F

all really came today. Cool winds. Cool temperature. No air conditioning. Windows wide open. No apparent humidity. People celebrating.

I’m not sure about the last statement. People celebrating. That may be taking it a little too far. Let’s just say people are happy. I’m happy.

That’s why I’m late. I went and stayed outside. Inside work be damned. Not quite. I have a lot of inside work. I’ll get to it eventually.

But, first… more out side.

I made this picture on one of our amazing sun shows at the end of the day. This is also the season for those. I followed my own advice and turned around to see what was going on. This was going on.

The factory building was a little too low to pick up the sunset’s color. But, the sky. Oh man, the sky. It went crazy. That’s really the point of this picture. Everything else just sort of anchors the sky.

So.

No thinking out loud today. Just doing.


S

ometimes I really don’t have much to say about world events. I’ve read enough to know that some days I’m better off staying in bed.

And, on other days I just go for a walk.

This picture found me on a walk. Aside from the square crop, I did nothing to it. It is simply what I saw. Or, what saw me. You know what Rumi said, ”What you seek is seeking you.”

Better be careful what you wish for.

Peace.


A cold wind blowing from the north.

A

nyone who has been around Storyteller for any length of time knows that there I are things I almost never do.

I rarely post twice in one day.

I rarely post another photographer’s work unless we are working on something together.

And, I never post a picture without a credit line.

All of those things happened yesterday day.

But, with the passing of Charlie Watts, and the musical world in tears, I thought it was the right thing to do.

In the words of Eric Clapton, goodnight sweet prince.

I

think I wrote that when something really big goes south, like the pandemic, it takes a lot of lesser things with it.

August has certainly proven that to me. The number of non-Covid deaths among people I care about in some way has risen to ten in twelve days.

I have no idea what to make of it except to say, “Yeah, I told you so.” But, what’s the point of that? You know it and I know it.

T

his is one of those pictures in which I try to make something from nothing.

It’s an almost bare tree in winter. The sky is pretty.

I photographed it, took the detail out of the sky.

Viola.

R

ather than be snarky with the “I told you so nonsense,” I thought I’d talk about an idea that came to me in a moment of day dreaming.

Many of you know that I don’t drink. I stopped over 28 years ago with a little help from my friends and hundreds of others who I didn’t know. At one point I even employed a psychiatrist to guide me. He discussed the notion of psychic energy.

It’s not what you are thinking. It’s not a spacey predictability idea. It’s not spooky. Instead, it refers to the amount of truly powerful energy we can put into a project. His point is that once you exhaust that you have to take some time to recharge.

I’ve talked about three hours being the length of time that I can photograph something before I start feeling like “I’ve left it all on the field.” That’s my psychic energy being depleted. If I take some time to rest, I can go back to work.

So, here’s my theory.

The New York Times talks about lethargy being introduced to us via the pandemic and accompanying lockdowns and worry.

What if, our (my) psychic energy has been drained and not been restored to a point that we start everyday full and ready to deal with the day’s issues?

What if we never fully recharge?

For me, I know that half the time I am walking around in a daze. When I do manage to work I complete my task and stop. That’s not me. I’m the Energizer Bunny. I go until there’s nothing more to do that day

You know how “you know what you know” sometimes? That’s how I feel right now. That’s great, but the question is what to do to recapture the energy.

I think routine is important. For almost 18 months I haven’t done what I normally do. I work from home in the studio most of the time unless we are traveling. My routine isn’t that of someone who goes to work everyday outside of the home. I’m either blessed or cursed.

Think about what you do before you go to work. Even though you normally don’t think about it, it tells your body and mind that you are leaving for work. And, to get ready.

Right now my psychic energy is at an all time low, if it exists at all. It’s time to restore that. At least, I’ll be a little more focused. But first, the routine.