This gallery contains 1 photo.
It’s no secret that I have developed an obsession with clouds. It’s not a scientific obsession like the one Richard Hamblyn describes in his book about Luke Howard—the Quaker amateur meteorologist who gave us words to name and thus classify … Continue reading
Walking today around a familiar loop on the side of our mountain— about 10 kilometers with maybe 400 meters of altitude gain—I stepped off Summit Creek Road (there is neither summit nor a creek, just a developer’s scheme to sell … Continue reading
Die Obstdiebin / The Fruit Thief Novel by Peter Handke I’ve been reading this novel slowly, a few pages a day, hungry for the complex syntax and Handke’s phenomenological observations. Today I came to the sentence below, complex enough that … Continue reading
This gallery contains 6 photos.
Pages from Alex Caldiero’s notebook, 3:55 am, February 20, 2020 And to accompany his floating thoughts, depictions of my own:
This morning I finished (or have I just started?) reading Australian novelist Gerald Murnane’s The Plains. The book opens with these paragraphs: The unnamed filmmaker who is the novel’s narrator has in mind a film of the plains that will get … Continue reading
. . . he would not intervene with the weather on behalf of the clouds whose real purpose he sought to undermine for no other reason than his own vanity. (Alex Caldiero, Clairefontaine) (from and answer, Alex Caldiero) (from Vomit questions on … Continue reading
My friend and colleague Jenna Nigro alerted me to the fact (reported in The New York Times Magazine, July 23, 2017) that Elvis Presley, while driving some associates through Arizona, saw the face of Joseph Stalin in a cloud. That … Continue reading
This thin cloud above a heavy mass of clouds that adds a final range to the mountains that alternate with basins across Utah and Nevada, tickled my fancy. Clouds have distinct forms, as Luke Howard knew when he named them … Continue reading
Today began early as pink skies lured me out of bed. I brewed coffee and sat on the deck with a cup. Early morning light. Good hot bitter coffee. The day ahead. I left the house for a long walk … Continue reading
Joni Mitchell’s song “Both Sides, Now,” has haunted me since the first summer I worked as a roughneck in Eloy and Wickenburg Arizona. Cloud illusions, life’s illusions — she knows the other, real, troubled side and still, it is the illusions … Continue reading