I don't know what this picture conveys, other than it's a man holding a camera out at arms' length taking a picture of himself. It was a picture of a man who went on a bus ride that day, taking him through all the hot spots of New Jersey; both Carlstadt and Moonachie! It was a man who would stay up late into that night commiserating, remembering, laughing...telling stories almost too hard to believe about the past, and about people no longer with us. It's a picure of a man looking at the second half of his life, and wondering how he'll finish it out. How the next five to ten years will unfold.
We have a say in our lives, in our futures. I think it's so easy to forget that. It's also too easy to give in. To hide. To run away. It's easy to become a spectator in one's own life. It's something I've been well-practiced at for years, and something I've been breaking — though it can get pretty damned hard at times to keep up. The comfort of resignation is an all too scary thing.
So there I stand on railroad tracks, extending for miles and miles ahead of and behind me. Am I trying to make some kind of metaphor, or am I just standing on railroad tracks next to a dead-end street early on a Monday evening, indulging myself with the last shot of the roll.
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