I was riding my bike around the city a warm night this past week and was overcome by the urge to sleep out in the woods. There are'nt to be many warm nights left this year and my spirit has been suffering from an uncharacterist lack of wilderness this summer. So at 10:30pm I packed my tent and sleeping bag in the car and drove to the nearest place where I could find some refuge from modern life. The next morning I awoke before dawn amidst the aromas of fall, packed up my belongings, and hiked around. After a little warm up I packed in the car again and headed to Zoar Valley where I came across many a bow or small game hunter. I snuck back making my own trail and followed the sun to the valley which I skirted until I came to the place I was looking for: a knifes edge passage that can be scaled down to the valley floor. There a beautiful old growth riparian forest greets the adventurer. It's one of the best short hikes that I have ever been on. Definitely food for the spirit. And to see it amidst the glory of fall on a beautiful sunny day was exquisite. Here's a couple photos for you:












By the way if anyone knows what this fungus is, which was dripping amazingly fast (I thought I was being rained on at first), please let me know

Partying hardy last night though I missed that E-strip house party. I guess I had'nt checked the website or seen anyone in a while - I did'nt even know that it was happening. Missed ya'll. :(
Nickel city party was fun though. Here are some pics:



Here I am spreading my Phoenix wings and being touched by a ghost.

The ebeneezer ghost in effect.

no comment needed.

Guess who? ...... Saturn! Getting down. I think his orbit was a little off kilter - esp. after a few drinks.

I found Waldo!!!

So I have'nt posted in a while and it's cause I've been busy, busy, busy. Mostly I've been working. Started a painting job and put in nearly a 50 hour week last week which is definitely a lot for me. That and I've researching and communicating with a prof all the way down in New Mexico trying to formulate a thesis project. She studies the effects of global climate change on wildlife in both changes in populations and in behavior and I will probably study its role in global amphibian declines. Here is a photo I took from the balcony of the building we have been painting on West Ferry. You can see the psych center towers on the horizon on the left side and the church on elmwood and lafayette near the center. Too bad the elmwoodstrip.com house is obstructed by trees.




Somewhere in the midst of working I took a vacation to visit some relatives in Providence, RI. My familly there has a dance theater group there called Everett Dance Theater. They're amazing! I'm always amazed at how creative and exciting their performances are. They were debuting a show when I visited called Home Movies. It consisted of the personal stories of the 5 performers lives weaved together and told through video projected on several screens that could be raised or lowered, through there own tellings, and through dance interpreting these events. It reached deeply and personal enough for me to have some insights into my own life as well as those of the performers (some of whom were my cousins which was fun). If anyone is interested you can check out there website at Also, they are performing Home Movies in New York City on Oct. 14, 15, and 16. Anyone who is inclined or will be in NYC I highly recomend looking into it. You can go to to find out more about the performance and probably order tickets which may sell out early (their performances pretty much always do). Here are some shots from this performance and another.





I was pleasently pleased the other night when I slipped into my back yard and made out in the dark that a new blossom was there to behold. One of those fall bloomers and what a quirky treat it is: Monk's Hood. You can judge for yourself if the flowers really look like monk's hoods. It certainly struck me.

type type


Lastly, Mathew, I f-ing love the collages that you have been making. I would love to see the book once the alphabet is complete. The crane that you just posted struck my heart particularly deep. Cranes are such a lithe, magestic and to me somewhat mystical animal and you captured this beautifully. Thanks.

I got sent this link today of a crazy video obout the plane hitting the pentagon. I always take these conspiracy theory things witha grain of salt - there is way too much misinformation in this world. Two people who have known each other for most of their lives often can't comunicate effectively; I don't expect information to be passed clearly on a mass scale. But - this is a cool looking video. So, for the theorist in you all here is the link:

[size=l]Alright, I want to show off a few of the flowers in my garden this year. There so perrrty! [/size]


I too, have Datura.

Hibiscus.

Another attempt to upload the Nicotiana.

So what heve I been up to these weeks on non-journaling?
Well, I've doned my muck boots once more to explore the rare and beautiful wet places of our country. These outings brought me to the Fall Creek Watershed which is btw. Cortland and Ithaca to help out my friend Stephen with his master's research. I'll spare you the details in prose and instead send out a few pics of my time working in the fens and hanging out in Syracuse with all my rad ex-roomies at the Bread and Roses Cooperative.
Oh, ignore the double text coming later. I was getting used to the way images are uploaded.



Here's my cool compatriot in crime, Stephen.



This is Kate, a beautiful butterfly whom I've gotten to flutter around and play with, here at Jacob's fen.


This might be a beautiful picture of the ladies tress, a native orchid that was in flower at the fen, except that my camera was running out of power and so I could'nt focus correctly. Well, I guess some things are not meant to be captured except in the mind.
There were lot's of orchids at this fen, including some real beautiful, showy ones though unfortunately they mostly were'nt in flower.



Flat topped aster.


Hmmm, nicotiana from the garden. I'd rather smell this than the kind people smoke any day. type type type type

So what heve I been up to these weeks on non-journaling?
Well, I've doned my muck boots once more to explore the rare and beautiful wet places of our country. These outings brought me to the Fall Creek Watershed which is btw. Cortland and Ithaca to help out my friend Stephen with his master's research. I'll spare you the details in prose and instead send out a few pics of my time working in the fens and hanging out in Syracuse with all my rad ex-roomies at the Bread and Roses Cooperative.

Here is a rendition of one of the first poem's I ever wrote. It was 7th or 8th grade. I was very proud as I scrawled the words that had come to me whilst delivering newspapers. They more than fullfilled the asignment given in english class, and had come so easilly. I felt smart - gifted.
What a helpless feeling came when the asignment was collected the next day and I spoke out to say squeamishly "I left it at home". The reply: "Yeah, right".
So I was not to develope that gift. Oh, well. I never have been very attracted to poetry in my adulthood - always sticking with prose. Joining a poetry circle at a freinds invite a few nights past, I realized this and remembered the old story. So here is my first rebelious punch - a rewriting of a long lost childhood poem. Not very timely, I'm afraid, but then with the August that we've been having so far maybe it is in a weird way. Take that Miss George.

warms rays shine down,
snow melts away.
A bird is heard chirping,
but its January not May.

I saw a robin, some geese,
tread the sky today.
They squawked of their travels
but it's January not May.

The birds shall fly south twice this year,
seeking the warmer day.
They must have forgot,
It's January not May.

This is love: to fly toward a secret sky,
to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment
First, to let go of life.
In the end, to take a step without feet.
To regard this world as invisible,
and to disregard what appears to the self.

Heart, I said, what a gift it has been
to enter this circle of lovers,
to see beyond seeing itself,
to reach and feel within the breast.

My soul, where does this breathing arise?
How does this beating heart exist?
"Bird of the soul, speak in your own words,
and I will understand.

The heart replied: I was in the workplace
the day this house of water and clay was fired.
I was already fleeing that created house,
even as it was being created.
When I could no longer resist, I was dragged down,
and my features were molded from a handful of earth.

-Rumi

I came across this poem in a neat little coincidence and it really spoke to me of some of the things that I have been pondering as of late. Several of the people in my life have been having heart problems lately (as in the actual physical manifestation, not just emotionally) which has led me to ponder the mystery that is bodily death. And life for that matter. The poem is from a book that I had asked my dad for some time ago and which he just found and lent to me the day after he got out of the hospital (with, it turns out, a healthy heart after all). This was the poem I flipped to when I first opened the book. I was contemplating whether to put someone else's words in one of my posts when the amazing pianist that I was listening to on the radio said something about whirling dervishes.
Well, I leave off with another quote, this from a certain recent Hollywood blockbuster: "I'll tell you a secret about the gods that they don't teach you in the temples. The gods envy us for our mortality. Everything is sweeter, more cherished, when you know that you may die at any moment."

We'll here I am at home. Not feeling my hotest. I can't say that I really have any distinct symptoms of anything like a cold or flu but I sure as heck don't have a lot of energy the last couple days. Fighting a bug, I suppose.
More trying than that, my dad is in the hospital right now with heart trouble. He spent last night there and has gone through a series of tests and depending on results may have an artery scoped (a camera inserted into it). So please send out your prayers (or whatever it is you do) for Bill Jungels. He's a good guy.
On a lighter note I am temporarilly jumping on the skin pick bandwagon (though not bearing it all) by inserting a pic of a slightly younger Jeremy workin away. Limited time only.