Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Leave it to a battle hardened veteran to note the limp of philosophy as many a road linking nothing to nowhere-- perfect description of 140 across a strange sage wanderlust vaguely northwest from Winnemucca. (Thank you, Ambrose Bierce). And leave it to politicians to manufacture more battle hardened veterans and inflict more philosophy. Not that any of it has to do with the land itself, which is beautifully intractable and vaguely blissful and threatening and quiet.

I'm mildly obsessed with quiet. Follow a thick, bright dust cloud on a two track rut from a two track road from a ranch road from a road from a road, and you'll come to Flook Lake in upper dry nether Oregon. When I tried it, pronghorn antelope raced me out of boredom, and it was there I first became aware of a noise problem... Steens Mountain and its July snow cap sat unaware some sixty miles east of my ringing ears. I was no match for quiet.

More! More! More!
So then what happened?????

This is good stuff Mnaz
H

thanx hest...

well... nothing much happened... (that seems to be the point of the place) 'tho I'll remember more details-- in time. For now, I leave the story as follows:

Thank you, Ambrose Bierce. Leave it to a battle hardened veteran to note philosophy as a road, or roads, linking nothing to nowhere... akin to 140's strange sage wanderlust vaguely northwest of Winnemucca; that blessed, self generated thread stretched into a self perpetuating scrub universe or several, parallel to a bleached yellow dash. And leave it to politicians to create more battle hardened veterans and inflict more philosophy; none of which has much to do with the land, which is beautifully intractable, vaguely blissful, threatening and quiet.

I am mildly obsessed with quiet. Follow a thick, bright dust cloud on a two track rut from another one from a ranch road from another road and you'll come to Flook Lake playa in upper nether Oregon. When I tried it, pronghorn antelope raced me out of boredom and it was there I became aware of a noise problem. Steens Mountain and its July snow cap sat unaware some sixty miles east of ringing ears. I was no match for quiet, unaware of my past sins.

Perhaps the playa will show mercy and return the wind. I never imagined a peace so abrupt and irreparably sonic... better to focus on the visual: soft impossibility of horizon. The dry air will be along to drown out my skull-bound noise and stir up sheets of heat. I can't hear this place yet, and the dry air will be along to solve its loud silent excess. In time...

(Yes... total silence can unnerve-- no breeze, no planes, no sign of any other life... only that ringing... Seriously).