- cipher e/ dreams (2017)
- Almost X (2016)
- Sunrise Highway (2015)
- Particle Theory (2014)
- transient lines (2013)
- still echoes (2013)
- Reflected: 10×10 (2002-2012)
- :^D (2011)
- Hola, Sayulita! (2010)
- Goodbye Monday Blue (2009)
- Goodbye Monday #Bsides (2009)
- Stay Home v. The Love Shoppings (2007)
- Windfall (2004)
[twitter] latestMy Tweets
- [img] “Great Scott, Westy! Make sure your parents and Cat are nowhere near the Clock Tower when the lightning bolt strikes. 1.21 gigawatts is heavy!” “Doc, I gotta tell you something!” “Not now, Westy. Just make sure your parents meet. Your future depends on it!”
- [img] it’s impossible to desaturate california
- [img] Elusive Road, as mapped by El Goog, is just an echo of the past. Its old concrete slabs degraded beneath my feet, and ended in impenetrable overgrowth on the ridge line. A double-back at the 2K mark of a 5K isn’t such a letdown, tho, when this is the view you get twice.
- [img] The PCH has more in common with its [P]acific than its [H]ighway. Relentless yet frozen, oceans & certain roads are living snapshots of eras, and yet reveal our future. Neon road signs and crashing waves are forms of ephemerality. All is transit. Nothing is [C]oast.
- [img] At Malibu’s 57°F water temperature, you begin to lose dexterity in 10 to 15 minutes without a (or with a faulty) wetsuit. A dawn patrol zipper check by a surfing partner goes way beyond simply ensuring your modesty if you wipe out and get rag dolled.
- [img] What if we could ride all the waves? What if the world was safe for everything we are? What if we could exchange every turn we’ll ever take for one North Star?
- [img] egrets, i’ve never known
- [img] Canyon topography dictates, never submits. Roads narrow as you elevate, and many end w/out warning around blind curves. But where asphalt ends, paths often snake off into the brush under Right-of-Access signs, leading to semi-secret spots that always seem to be expecting you.
- [img] “There’s this store where the creatures meet / I wonder what they do in there…” wrote Jim Morrison in Love Street. The “store” is the Canyon Country Store, and Mr Mojo lived w/ his gf Pam just behind on Rothdell Trail. I’m a 10 min walk, and now a certified creature.
- [img] The east side of Laurel Canyon slopes up to a neighborhood named Mount Olympus, where you can find yourself at the corner of Electra and Jupiter after a left on Apollo off Oceanus. The sun often rises in volcanic splendor over Mount Olympus in LA. Who would’ve thought?
- [img] Jonathan Livingston Chicken lives across from our cottage. Every evening, between 5 and 6, Jonathan escapes his coop, hops on his roadside fence, clucks proud, and flies up an adjacent tree. “I’m a chicken with a hawk soul,” he tells me. “They don’t prey on me.”
- [img] “Silvery teardrops trickling down my windshield…” [Warren Zevon, ‘Steady Rain’]
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Yearly Archives: 2017
[img] sleep in a sleepless city / crystal in a concrete world / just a princess and a quiet boy / syncing
sleep in a sleepless city / crystal in a concrete world / just a princess and a quiet boy / syncing
October 07, 2017 at 12:58PM
[img] Each has [a] past shut in…like leaves of a book known by the heart, and friends can only read the title. / Virginia Woolf
Each has [a] past shut in…like leaves of a book known by the heart, and friends can only read the title. / Virginia Woolf
October 06, 2017 at 04:20PM
[archive.20170915] Lake Minnetonka, MN. Father and son talk baseball.
October 05, 2017 at 02:37PM
Faith isn’t what you cling to. Faith is what you never fear to let go.
October 04, 2017 at 12:43PM
[img] With a fast enough lens, you can fool the shadow people into thinking your camera is pointed elsewhere.
With a fast enough lens, you can fool the shadow people into thinking your camera is pointed elsewhere.
September 28, 2017 at 07:05PM
— ../westy (@westyreflector) September 15, 2017
September 15, 2017 at 04:30PM
[img] This zone where waves give up their energy… is the surf. It is the most exciting part of the ocean. / Willard Bascom, Oceanographer
This zone where waves give up their energy… is the surf. It is the most exciting part of the ocean. / Willard Bascom, Oceanographer
September 11, 2017 at 04:40PM
via Flickr http://ift.tt/2eRDfMp
Coopers Beach / Halsey Neck Beach
via Flickr http://ift.tt/2xg5bUG
via Flickr http://ift.tt/2xg5bUG
— ../westy (@westyreflector) September 5, 2017
September 05, 2017 at 05:49PM
With the passing of Walter Becker, let’s resurrect a piece of mine on Steely Dan, for whom I had conflicting feelings but also heavy sentimental attachment, their inescapable songs stamped on many pivotal moments through my halcyon teenage daydream years. I didn’t choose to write about them – the piece was an assignment.
Back in 2013, I jumped into in a meme game, on a whim, against character and habit. That it was a Facebook meme made it even rarer for me, since I spend maybe 5 minutes a month in eff-space (another post for the future, perhaps). Courtesy of Scott Faulkner (http://www.vinylsaurus.com), the game was if you “liked” Scott’s Facebook post, he assigned you a band/act and you would write on them in the same format. The assignments would then cascade through every generation of likes. Marc Weidenbaum (https://disquiet.com) liked Scott’s post and was assigned The Residents. I, in turn, liked Marc’s post about The Residents, so he assigned me… drum roll… Steely Dan.
see through ads, and you find they all use the same mirror
September 01, 2017 at 03:56PM
It’s 2061. Shunted off in the corner of the rec room at Elysian City: A Home For The Aged, I spend my days staring out a 2nd-story window at a leafy City neighborhood in a vain attempt to cancel out my immediate surroundings. I am 90 years old. My money is gone, my companionship is long over, I have no savings. The government will not approve me for a phone or any sort of connection to the Internet (by that time, access to the virtual world is age restricted for over-85s the same as drivers licenses). I don’t have a guitar. All my instruments and vinyl collection were sold to pay for a hybrid pig heart I needed when I was 83. Elysian also forbids personal music playback devices and headphones, so I can’t seek comfort in the albums I released decades ago in my highwire days.
The other patients create an absurd, inescapable, Cuckoo’s Nest din. I am there because I lost my money, but most are there because they lost their minds. Phillip, a former tenured NYU Comparative Literature professor, screams all day, every day in the same seat, about Donald Trump’s “Kalashnikov eyes” the “god damned Pension Police in the walls!” Every time he tries to eat, he hallucinates himself into the same Thanksgiving dinner simulation where he’s arguing with his brother Mitch about the 2016 election. By the end of every exchange (of which we only get his side), Phillip will slam his plate up and down, sending most of his meal in all directions.
Phillip eats only mac ‘n cheese, and his mad gyrations fly an inevitable noodle or two across a couple tables to smack me in the face or splat on my window. Shriveled, stray elbow noodles are strewn around the room, caught in gaps between the home’s original Kentile floor tiles and wall mouldings, and also underneath an IKEA credenza that holds a Monopoly game without a full set of money and a few well-worn mid-2010s issues of InStyle Magazine. Too-on-the-clock-to-care orderlies don’t cajole their vacuums and mops to reach any of the crevices, so the noodles just accumulate unnoticed like ear canal hair.
The psych wardlords play Gen-X music to try to salve everybody with what they call “youthmmersion therapy,” and most of the time it works. But whenever the Thompson Twins’s “Doctor Doctor” comes on the loudspeaker, 80-going-on-15 Leanne teases her wiry blurry hair up high, and apes Alanna Currie playing timpani drums. Leanne bangs on the table with her Jello spoons every time the chorus revs up, and then screams along (“Doctor Doctor! I’m burning burning!”). Her just-off-key caterwauls always bring two of the floating control drones that patrol the corridors and administer most of the medication. They will grab Leanne by our shoulder-mounted mandatory drone-connector epaulettes. The drones will then hoist Leanne towards the ceiling, where she will float and sing in a seemingly gravity-less performance around the room until she is floated out into the corridor back to her room. If I’m lucky, the drones for Leanne will arrive as Phillip crescendos his one-way dinner fight, and they will catch his noodles mid-flight in elegant ICBM intercept maneuvers.
I turn back to my window, hoping to find solace in the people walking below, living some semblance of real life. Every once in a while I see someone not wearing their virtual shield, maybe walking a dog or taking their kid to school, and paying attention to the environment. No one ever looks up, and for that I’m grateful.
Motorcycle ride through a Bulgarian countryside set to my songs Since I Heard The Sun and Infinite Destination. Always awesome to see asphalt and trees whipping through the frame as these tracks play.
Published on Aug 31, 2017
Bogdan – Honda Africa Twin CRF1000
Cosmin – Honda Africa Twin CRF1000
Deso – Yamaha Super Tenere 1200
Beklemeto Pass, Arch of Freedom,
Shipka Pass, Buzludzha Monument
Shipka Pass, Shipka Memorial