I am putting Fleeting House on a semi-permanent hiatus for a few reasons. Firstly, I feel like I've covered everything I set out to cover, occasionally twice. Secondly, I spend most of my maintenance time here clearing away spam, which is 99% of the response I receive on this site. Thirdly, I love a discreet set of things, a group of things with an end. Fourthly, see the post below that expresses a kind of weariness with the hyper-relentless documentation of every damn thing in sight. I'm taking time to put down the camera and not consider how every event I experience might be summarized in a blog post. The time for widespread blogging is likely over in any case. It's a soupy sea of vapidity out there, mostly just knee-jerk snapshots and milquetoast observations on the absolutely mundane. I certainly don't need to add to that. There's more than enough here over the past three years to chew over, to review, to clean up. It isn't that I'm not inspired, I'm just not inspired much lately by technology or the myths of communication that envelope it. I hope that doesn't sound too cynical. Spending as much time as I do online both day and night is leading to a pervasive feeling of cynicism for me, though, and so I'm stepping away from the keyboard on my off-time to better experience the tactile world, the one that's still right outside my door, the one that feels more impoverished -- culturally, physically, monetarily -- than ever and one I want to fully engage with as we pass tipping points and cross rubicons on the way to a more dangerously Anthropocene world of wild weather and sudden changes. There's too many books to read, artwork to draw, and conversations to be had to spend any more time in this digital bardo than need be. Those of you who know me know how to reach me. Let's step out for a walk, a chat, a beer, a moment together offline.
Thank you for your time.
Dean Volker in Chinatown.
The East End In The Afternoon - There is little traffic on the road, children are at play, housewives linger in doorways, old men doze outside the library and, in the distance, a rag and ...
2 hours ago