November 6, 2000
Saint John, New Brunswick, Canada

11:29pm. I’m feeling much better now. Last night and this morning I was way down. It was wet outside over the weekend, so I mostly stayed inside, getting high on the couch in conversation, and making new friends at parties. Late nights had their toll as well. To be old and wise, I first must be young and foolish.

Drugs are a huge part of our society. Imagine how much good could be done with all the energy spent on coffee, cola, cigarettes, alcohol, marijuana, and all the other happy pills. What causes this need for sedation? How do we get so stressed… that to relax, we feel the need to ingest chemicals that can be harmful?

All through high school, I didn’t party, I climbed to get high. I didn’t think about drinking. I was outside most of the time. I took pictures, so I could show others my life; because otherwise, very few people would get to know me. I’d take a little photo album to school to show classmates, and look at when I got bored. When I see pictures of myself smiling, I smile, and sometimes laugh. Life is good; photos remind me.

Francis, the man who brings fresh goats milk to my house several times a week, is an image in my mind. Each time I see him, his image becomes more defined. He is like an outline drawing in a coloring book, that I fill in with conversation, bit by bit each time he visits. Sometimes he just comments on the weather, or says something about the milk, but last time, he talked about how he is going bear hunting, and how bear meat is like beef, much better than deer—which his wife and kids won’t eat.

Many people, I have known for a long time, but hardly know who they are. Other people, strangers a day before, we will talk about the deepest, most intimate things, and I can know them to the core—and that is what I want.

Relationships are build with sharing. More important that what I know, is who I know, or who knows me. I may know the greatest things, but if I don’t know who needs to know them, what good are they? My life is richer with each person who appreciates my art. By sharing it freely, more people are introduced to me. Fame is valuable, and everyone is famous within certain circles.

When I have a problem to solve, or a job to be done that needs expert attention, I find a friend to help. A lot gets done without money. This summer, I did a dozens of slide show presentations, free of charge, at a several clubs, an outside concert, a couple parties, a teen center, a city park, an art festival and three environmental conferences, using equipment loaned to me by Moreen Desmond, a teacher at Saint John high School, and Mike Beliveau, who works for Carabeiner. Mark Baker at Leatherman gave a "Wave" multi-purpose tool, Bill Walters at Kodak replaced my digital camera, which would have cost a few hundred dollars to fix, and Mark Stevens at Geeknet is hosting this web site, taking over from Marco Shaw and Jerry Pond at NBtel. These people help me, because my goal is to help others. I see myself as a public school teacher.

Competition, the race, person against person, battling to get ahead—why? If you are going my way… jump on, I’ll give you a ride. My experience has been that I get what I want when I am ready to receive it. And patience is precious.

Three months ago, I returned to Saint John a stranger in my home town. A party—it’s a good way to get a large group of like-mind people together to create a network of friends. I am hosting "Music for Mexico" this Saturday night at the Gothic Arches, to raise funds for The FAR OUT School.

I am really tired. It is now 1:55am.

This computer screen is a two-way mirror that I come to for reflection, however, I do not see the truth, but only my perception. Through the screen, in rooms I don't know where, other perceptions are being formed, filling in details to a line drawing that is MAX.

This is fun... not to be taken seriously. Like an actor on stage, I play make-believe.

"It is not easy to write in a journal what interests us at any time, because to write it is not what interests us."
-- Henry David Thoreau,
A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers (1849)

These images were captured last week, a few days apart, in Welsford, 20 minutes north of my home, with friends Ron and Tabatha.