Aileen the Artist

JWise Photo of the Day

Aileen Martinez in Phoenix, Arizona

How sweet are sweets from nice people who consider others when they travel? Today, it was my good fortune to meet up with Aileen Martinez after her return from a month of road-tripping from Banff, Canada, to Minnesota with dozens of stops in between; she’d thought of Caroline and me when shopping for dark chocolate in Chicago. Aileen is an artist I first met here at WeBe Coffee Roasters nearly a year or more ago. Since then, she’s traveled solo to Japan, where she collected impressive art supplies and amazing experiences. Another trip took her to Vancouver, and then there was one to Mexico, or was it two? Missing from this photo is fellow artist Jef Caine, who has found van life in the Arizona desert less than ideal. I don’t often share images of people I gravitate toward, but Aileen exercises an intentionality that embodies the kind of strength I find admirable.

Return To Being Not Out

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Duncan, Arizona

There are times when a weekend lasts forever; those are likely tied to the amount of novelty crammed into these hours outside of routine. When the objective is to find isolation and relative familiarity to be quiet, explore stillness, and remove one’s self from distractions experienced at home, there is a contraction of time. As the moment of departure approaches for our return to Phoenix, there is a sense that our arrival was only hours ago, yet here we are about to leave. Even if we won’t get in our car for a few hours from now, the sense of things is such that closure is beginning, and the wait is only a reinforced effort to delay the inevitable.

Old Cemetery in Duncan, Arizona

In turn, we attempt to give purpose to the time that is spent lingering in place, and for us, that means heading out for a walk, though breakfast could have been an option at the local diner had we not already made arrangements with our hosts. Instead, we attract the barking of a dozen different dogs who might be sending mixed signals that we should either stay away or maybe come near to give them rubs and scratches. Dogs can be hard to read when teeth are glaring and their barking sounds ferocious, but then there are those wagging tails that suggest friendliness if you can get over the neurotic yammering of excitement. And so it was as a dog offered up its warnings, except this one wasn’t behind a fence. Something inside me said that this dog was all bluster, but inside was pure love, so I harkened for her to come over. Up she ran, dropping right between my legs, rolling over for belly rubs to suck up the attention.

Tombstone for Ida Ann Tipton at the Old Cemetery in Duncan, Arizona

Over at the old cemetery, there was nobody looking for attention, just a bunch of dead people contemplating the weight of earth resting upon their corpses. Many of the gravestones are now missing, the telltale sign of the mound the only reminder that there are bones below. This is Duncan’s oldest cemetery, as far as I know. As I have done at other times, I’m taking this opportunity to note that someone is remembering a person who may be long forgotten. Ida Ann Tipton was born on January 1, 1899, and sadly passed away only 43 days later on February 13, 1899. Her parents had the following engraved on the back of her tombstone: Another little lamb has gone. To dwell with Him who gave another little darling babe is sheltered in the grave. God needed one more angel child amidst his shining band. And so he bent with loving smile and clasped our darling’s hand.

Old Cemetery in Duncan, Arizona

The rocks and tombstones persist, while some random anonymous artifacts of those who’ve lived and died here in the Duncan area are the only tangible memories remaining in the local antique store. Those clues to others’ lives are bartered for cash, so the survivors are able to continue the economic engine that becomes the only threads that signify that they, too, once existed. How long before we become responsible for creating digital memorials of our ancestors? However, I could also see a mass erasure of a majority of those when future generations realize just how insipid their relatives were, and nobody would care that they had existed on propagandistic idiotic television, ate a poor diet, smoked, and drank too much.

Duncan, Arizona

It’s probably better that we all turn to dust and that everything decays and disappears. In our own time, the majority of us humans are already archaic, poorly educated cogs in a machine of exploitation that relies on qualities that leave us not as memorable people but easily forgotten fodder whose memory might continue on in the odd person or two though it’s just as likely our demise will simply go unnoticed. From the German brothers from Hanover, Germany, who gave us Clabber Girl Baking Powder seen on this relic of a sign from the 1940s, who nobody remembers anymore to Madam C.J. Walker, who some believe was the first self-made female millionaire in the U.S., making a fortune with her natural hair products for other black women, most contributions to humanity are long forgotten before the ink dries. We are all fading in and out of existence with nary a blink of an eye, but while we are here, we are at the center of a universe that is all about us.

Going Out, But Not Too Far

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Duncan, Arizona

This shift of place on the map, which is about 10% of the distance between our home and Tybee Island, Georgia, on the Atlantic Coast, might suggest we are out to collect new experiences and the taking in sights that will dazzle our senses, but no, we are here to indulge in the full scope of exercising the doing of next to nothing. Absolute nothing could imply post-decay or post-cremation following the demise of our living selves, but we will attempt to take strides that will either appear glacial or at least indulgently slow. To this end, while we are walking the streets of Duncan (of which there are not many) if anyone else moving around in the early hours were to see us, we would drop into the children’s game called Statue (some might know it as Freeze). Like cats, we assume they can’t really see us when we stop moving.

Beetle with long shadow in Duncan, Arizona

Not willing to move the car to take us somewhere nearby we may have never been before, our choices are limited to walking out the front door of the hotel, turning left or right, and then navigating the options where our feet can carry us. North seems the logical direction as that’s where the most amount of nature is potentially taking place. The Gila River appears to be playing the same game of Statue as us because, with only a trickle of water in its channel as the monsoons haven’t yet contributed to its flow, it might be better to refer to it as the Muddy Gila Creek, about to seize into a solid at any moment.

Datura in Duncan, Arizona

With an abundance of toxic plants in bloom, such as members of the nightshade family and a few rather large datura specimens like this one, we walk in the cool morning air, appreciating the lively black and red ants, discarded mini-bottles of alcohol, a fragile beetle clinging to life (not the one pictured above this image), a solitary crane, and the occasional rumble of semi-trucks hauling something or other to the copper mine north of us.

Ant Lion in Duncan, Arizona

Never, prior to last month anyway, had we seen an ant lion, but here we are today, seeing our second one in hardly more than a couple of weeks. I think god is signaling to us that this is the time to play the lottery. However, my logical mind takes umbrage with that cockamamy idea and reminds me that it’s likely flying ant lion season during the summer and that Caroline and I don’t get out enough during this time of year in our surrounding deserts. And I answer that with, “Who in their right mind goes from one place that’s over 105 degrees (40 Celsius) to another that is just as hot?” Obviously, we have, and we must, because maybe twenty years ago, we could play the having-all-the-time-in-the-world card, seeing that mortality hadn’t raised its head yet. Now we know it’s now or never.

Tree of Heaven in Duncan, Arizona

Only because we are here in summer are we becoming acquainted with the Tree of Heaven. We’ve walked by these trees many a time, but displaying its samaras (seeds), it caught our eye in ways it never had before. At other times of the year, it sits there, growing out of the earth all woody and green leafy with nothing that says, look at me, nor does it say smell me. I added that because another name for this tree is stinking sumac, and should you try to eradicate this invasive species from your neighborhood, it becomes known as the Tree of Hell. Cut it down, and its roots will reroute the tree, foiling your efforts to remove this persistent plant.

Breakfast at Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

When Caroline and I were passing through for a couple of overnights back in April, I’d voiced that I’d love for Caroline to have the opportunity to sample Clayton’s version of eggs benedict using a dijonnaise instead of hollandaise, and so with that still in his memory, he was set up with the ingredients for exactly that this morning. I just searched my old posts and saw that I’d never mentioned this in posts about my visits earlier this year. A tragedy because the dish was well off the chart of amazing, and this morning delivered a perfect rendition of what I remembered. Stuffed, a trusty artificial intelligence informed me that the only relief to be found for this condition was to take a nap, and while there wasn’t a triclinium in sight, our bed worked just fine.

Caroline Wise in Duncan, Arizona

It’s now hours later with vague, fleeting images of moments of inactivity. Proper lunchtime had come and gone, and back then, I had been certain I was done eating until evening anyway. Apparently, I was wrong and could be convinced otherwise. Suffering from a sore backside being planted on a hardwood chair and running out of stuff to write about, a walk seemed in order, though my first thought was, why endure the heat of the day if it doesn’t arrive with some kind of reward for the effort? Choices involved the trusty Ranch House Restaurant, where we could share a little something before joining Deborah and Clayton once more for dinner, as we did last night, or we might dip into the ice cream shop that also offers sandwiches and occasionally burritos. Making these kinds of decisions on a weekend when we are practicing our Statue routine almost felt like too much effort. Then, only minutes later, we were sharing a toasted turkey, ham, and green chili sandwich at the River’s Roadside Cafe, and afterward, Caroline tried a scoop of their Oatmeal Cream Pie ice cream.

A Woodhouse Toad in Duncan, Arizona

Dark clouds have arrived, but the forecast says storms are a no-go for today. Darn, a bit of storming would have been a delight, pushing this weekend into perfection. Who am I fooling, though? Things were already perfect, except we were running a deficit of steps needed to make our exercise routine mostly complete, mostly because we’d still fall short, though not by much. Good thing our lack of drive was overcome because out on the wild streets of Duncan, we encountered a bunch of hungry woodhouse toads strolling the streets along with us while bats worked the skies, grabbing the insects the toads would never reach. As for Caroline and I, we don’t voluntarily make a habit of eating bugs, but when we do, they should be properly prepared in a succulent and tasty dish.

Looking Out

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Highway 70 in Eastern Arizona

Back in early April, on our way to witness the total eclipse in Texas, we stopped for an overnight at the Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona. Looking out on the travel horizon that night, I requested our next dates to stay at the Simpson Hotel. I felt that sandwiching a weekend stay between our visit to Santa Fe and our trip to the East Coast and Canada would be a great idea. Well, here we are on that 222-mile (358-kilometer) drive toward the New Mexican state line for another couple of days with Deborah and Clayton, the proprietors of the Simpson.

Highway 70 in Eastern Arizona

Prior to leaving Phoenix, we felt a hint of reluctance to travel again so soon due to the intensity of our June and July adventures that brought us to Nevada, California, Oregon, and New Mexico. Now, with the impending long haul of our next major vacation, maybe we are squeezing too much into the small space between our journies, but having made the reservation, we were going to honor it. Plus, we wouldn’t be able to visit again before October after I’m done blogging about our September trip to the East Coast and Canada. Not only that, the draw of monsoons being more active to the east and the prospect of cooler nights and mornings were tugging at our curiosity.

Highway 70 in Eastern Arizona

With heavy clouds ahead, I stopped for a photo of the drama developing in the sky, and good thing I stopped where I did. Not five minutes later, we were in a heavy deluge that was pouring so hard, with visibility reduced to less than 125 feet, that I felt it necessary to pull over a couple of times, allowing those with no regard for the intense conditions to speed by. Fifteen minutes later, we were on the other side of the storm and pulling up to Taylor Freeze for a chocolate malted. For those who don’t know, a malted is a milkshake prepared with malt powder, typically made with malted barley and evaporated whole milk powder; it adds another element of yummy. About an hour later, the incredibly familiar town of Duncan welcomed us back with a parade and the kind of fanfare previously only shown during those heady days when Prince Charles and his wife, Princess Diana, visited. I don’t really need to tell you that this last bit was a flight of fancy, do I?

Looking Up

JWise Photo of the Day, Thoughts

Looking at the ceiling

Things start when I look down at my keyboard and accept that today is one more day of pause in the routine of writing. After more than six intense months of daily work playing the scribe, I felt that a break was in order, and that’s what I’ve been exercising. The problem with this is that nothing happens here on the blog; it’s as though I’ve ceased to exist. So, to assure my future self that I was, in fact, alive during the silence, I just looked up to see the sun and sky, but confronted with ceiling and lamps, I figured that now was a good time to pen an update. It wasn’t that the view spoke to me. Actually, it was an accidental button press on my phone that turned on my camera’s selfie mode, and I thought that the image looked appealing. Well, that was enough to start the process of searching for something or other to say in order that the photo would find its way into a blog post.

Now, here it is, and with little narrative worthy of sharing, but aware that I’m trying to coerce a few brain cells to act performantly so as to not appear uninspired, I sit here ruminating under the ceiling with a mind trying to see a brief update. Sure, there are travel plans, with the closest jaunt away from home beginning tomorrow afternoon, as a matter of fact. Then there are the amazing tutorials that have been walking me through the details of an interface connecting my DAW (Digital Audio Workstation) called Bitwig (where I record music from my synthesizer) with TouchDesigner (a node-based visual programming tool for creating complex generative art and data visualization), allowing for audio-reactive programming where I could channel visual events from my synth. With the help of generative AI-based image creation as found in Adobe’s Illustrator, Runway AI video generation, and Stable Diffusion using ComfyUI and the rapidly growing world of Diffusion Models, we are at the cusp of being able to create visual materials linguistically instead of by hand freeing us to create audio/visual symphonies as individuals.

Of course, my progress with any of that will continue to be interrupted by my self-imposed obligation to the task of writing a novel, upcoming travels, and the general requirements of sharing a life with a great friend. The point is things are looking up, and with new distractions that require mind-melting noodling of the aging organ in my cranium, I’m able to witness these new infinities playing on the horizon. More often than not, I listen to people trapped under the low-hanging ceiling of their own makings as they accept the conventions of habit, but every so often, I decide to engage with someone who seems to be emanating something akin to the wonder found in children at play and not only do they brighten my day, I appear to have left them with a spark of inspiration that fuels my desire to learn, even further.

Just Go Home

JWise Photo of the Day, Travels

Tia Sophia Restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It’s been an intense six weeks, traveling to Oregon for a month, coming home for 72 hours, leaving for Santa Fe, plus the activity around those adventures required to make them happen. Now we need to go home. Enthusiasm a few days ago had big ideas for how Sunday would play out, but in the face of a reality where not quite exhaustion but a certain tiredness is swirling about, those plans, whatever they were, are being put to the side because we just want to get home and hibernate in the nest. But we’re not yet so old that we’d capitulate to the demands of sleep, so with some finessing the story, we’ll try to appear to have been busy, even though our return trip will be a pretty direct shot back to Phoenix.

Zozobra at Tia Sophia Restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico

In Santa Fe, we don’t only eat at the Pantry; we also try getting a meal in at Tia Sophia’s, preferably on a Sunday morning before the tourists descend into the Santa Fe Plaza and while the Monday-through-Friday crowd is sleeping in. And though we showed up early, we’d still be about a dozen behind others who lined up while we went for a short walk. In a second, we knew what we wanted: Caroline opted for the Huevos Rancheros with green chile for $12.50, and I ordered the Cheese Enchiladas with two fried eggs served Christmas style (red and green), also for $12.50, though there was an upcharge for the eggs. I’m noting these prices because Caroline recently commented on how nice it was that we used to include the cost of gas or motels in blog entries frequently and that she likes being able to compare between then and now. Regarding the wall art menus painted by younger customers, this is the Zozobra, a representation of worries and gloom. Once a year (this year is the 100th anniversary), a 50-foot tall (15-meter) effigy is burned to great fanfare. We were supposed to be on hand for this momentous event this year, but it turns out that we’ll be on vacation far from Santa Fe, New Mexico, at that time.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

The historic core of this city would surely benefit from being a pedestrian-only zone. I know it helps with our ability to take photos when the streets are still mostly empty of the hundreds of parked cars that will spoil the view later in the day.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

We are across the street and around the corner from the famous Inn of Five Graces that Caroline and I will never stay at. Not that we wouldn’t like to, but at over $1300 a night (€1,200), unless we visit in the late fall or winter when we can book a cheap room for only $875 a night, we won’t be affording a weekend here any time soon. I do wonder what it would be like to not care about the expense and book a week in one of the upgraded suites, drop $15,000 for the experience, and just hang out in the vibe to write and have no concerns about the worries that plague the frugal and poor.

San Miguel Church in Santa Fe, New Mexico

This is the San Miguel Mission, said to be the oldest church in the United States dating to between 1610-1626. This was our hoped-for destination had we been able to arrive earlier in Santa Fe on Thursday. Someday we’ll poke our heads through the doors and see the inside for ourselves.

Santa Fe, New Mexico

There’s something to be said about the visual acuity of eyes that tease out details from the shadows that our cameras perform rather poorly. I could use my phone for some horrid HDR attempts at lighting this, and at times, it does okay when viewed on my phone, but past that, they don’t survive the quality test over the long run. I could shoot HDR using my DSLR, but I’m not serious enough about this craft to travel with my tripod, so I’ll accept the poorly lit shadows while reserving the right to find yet one more thing to whine about.

Laguna Burger at 66 Pit Stop in Laguna, New Mexico

What I don’t need to lament is the allegedly awesome green chile burgers found at a gas station in Laguna, New Mexico, because the reviews are correct: they are awesome indeed. No factory-formed patties or lean meat here, just a cooked-to-order massive half-pound burger with a good portion of green chiles thrown on top, though next time, I’ll probably ask for double chile. Their milkshakes are also in a league of quality that should draw people in. Sadly, we skipped their fries because even splitting the burger was difficult, considering we’d just eaten breakfast a couple of hours earlier, all the more reason to stop in again. The hole-in-the-wall joint is found at the Route 66 Pit Stop at Laguna Pueblo.

Old Trading Posts in Lupton, Arizona

There might be five people still living here in Lupton, Arizona, on the border with New Mexico, but likely not more than that. This is nearly a ghost town here in 2024, but decades ago, in the heyday of American travel, these outposts in the middle of nowhere were magical places where many people had their first encounters with the exotic world of Native Americans and the Old West. Back then, a road trip truly meant leisure travel, with people taking their time to reach destinations, compared to today’s travel where the stuff between are inconveniences.

Fading mural in Lupton, Arizona

Indian Village Trading Post, also in Lupton, Arizona, once had a vibrant mural, but after the abandonment of the shop, just like everything else, things continue to fade under the relentless sun.

Vella fallax texana bug in Lupton, Arizona

Even the Painted Cliffs Welcome Center is now closed, although the public toilets are still maintained. Aside from encountering this antlion (Vella fallax texana) in its mating form and just learning that you can see this area in the 1940 film The Grapes of Wrath, there’s a sense of the tragic felt when stopping here by those of us who feel some nostalgia for the golden age of car travel in America. When I think about what I really experience out here at rest stops along our highways, I’m saddened by the plastic bottles of urine tossed out of windows, diapers, tons of toilet paper, cans, and fast food trash. Then there’s the hyper-aggression of the drivers bent on being anywhere other than where they are. I wonder how many are actually unhappy with themselves and are effectively trying to escape their inner turmoil as they race into impatience.

Storm clouds near Heber, Arizona

Hints of monsoon were on the horizon, and lucky us, we drove right into the maelstrom, but not only that, the storm followed us home. Once it arrived in Phoenix at night, we were treated to hail, rolling thunder, and a microburst that took out hundreds of trees between our place and Caroline’s office in Scottsdale. Now that we’re back home, we are taking a breather and are looking forward to not going anywhere for a solid two weeks.