Sunday, December 4, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
James McMurtry...Live on the Streets of Spokane Washington
Monday, October 10, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Monday, August 15, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Tattooed....On the Panjshir river valley
An Afghan National Army Officer with a tattoo from Iran which looks kind of like a heart with a pump (could be a real handy thing come to think of it, at least much better than a heart with a fucking arrow) stops fishing for five minutes to pose shamelessly on the banks of the Panjshir River. Insert Whitman quote here:
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Friday, August 5, 2011
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Christmas Time in Coronado
The attack jets come in low
over the ocean
past the tennis courts and the Duchess's cottage,
in tandem
low over the Navy golf course
headed for the North Island airstrip
then wheel to the left
out over the water again,
the afternoon's last light
making a movie set of the offshore islands
around and back once more
past the grand old wooden hotel and its cupolas
with a series of watery, high-pitched whups
as they cut back their engines
and disappear over the ridge.
The town seems very still, almost empty, rich.
Christmas displays in store windows.
A goodly stream of cars.
The traffic lights make a sound, too, bird-like.
I often get confused.
The roaring overhead. The traffic noise.
There is no place to go.
Out on the Silver Strand
the joggers and sweethearts take in the sunset
the air overhead as busy as war
Skyhawks, Vigilantes, Intruders
the cargo and surveillance planes
sub hunters, gunships
Phantom, Tomcat, Cobra...
It must have given the late President
great succor out there in his compound
those long troubled evenings in San Clemente
to see the lights
and track the arc of the distant thunder
as he sat, with a drink, looking
out that enormous window at the sea, the stars
a blur of light from the distant pier.
I have read, of the late President
from those who had been close to him, through it all
that he had in him a reflective
one might even say philosophical cast of mind.
I wouldn't know to say it wasn't true.
I wouldn't know to say.
But I myself have been thinking constantly of America.
Only of late, only here
with the might of the nation roaring overhead around the clock
spewing vapor from their strakes
going fucking nowhere
and noisily coming back.
Poem: Christmas Time in Coronado by August Kleinzahler (1998), from the collection Sleeping it Off in Rapid City, Farrar, Straus and Giroux (2008)
Image: An Osprey Warming up After Midnight, Kandahar Airfield, Afghanistan by Eduardo Plarr
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Images from my Kidnapping...Locations mostly unknown
So this is from the backseat shortly after the abduction last week. "Oh keep on taking pictures," he was saying. "Me. I don't care." I thought this was nice but I also knew what it ultimately meant.
The grapes were plastic, but a nice touch nonetheless.
After we changed cars like five or six times and I think crossed into Pakistan. we reached a house and then they all did their scary-boy-jihadist thing with the knives for a while. At this point the light had gotten really flat so I started shooting in black and white.
The grapes were plastic, but a nice touch nonetheless.
After we changed cars like five or six times and I think crossed into Pakistan. we reached a house and then they all did their scary-boy-jihadist thing with the knives for a while. At this point the light had gotten really flat so I started shooting in black and white.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
My Favorite Building in Afghanistan....Kabul (with half of TV Hill in the background)
To be honest the architecture in Kabul sucks. A lot of stuff has been destroyed, and all the new buildings are cheap mirrored glass with streaks of dirt perpetually running down the sides. All the new residential homes are worse. We call them birthday cakes. (At least Rocco was good bad.) Pak influenced and built with heroin. I'll go get a pic of one after my shift ends.
I wish I could tell you something about the building above. I can't though. It's an octagon. And I like to think that when the muj were in the hills above firing mortars down on this street, they tried their best not to take this thing out. tia.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Sec Def in Khaki...Petreaus in "Digital"....Zhari Kandahar
Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
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