39

Boise, Idaho. May 2011.

Boise is a strikingly beautiful little city

but

when you hit the ground you fall asleep, dead to the world

the sunlight still seeping in through the curtains of the hotel room window

is like a drunk friend begging you not to leave a party.

Cumulative exhaustion has finally bested you and it will be another fifteen hours

before you can walk amongst the living.

In the morning you have a leisurely cup of coffee in the hotel

and read USA TODAY which reminds you of your Grandfather

who is almost certainly doing the exact same thing at this exact moment.

You go do your photo shoot and promptly forget about it

the sun is out, after all, and there's a strong positive energy in this town.

After all this time spent in unfamiliar cities, you have three things you always look for

a good non-chain coffee shop to read in

a bar with respectable beer

and a satisfying hike that offers a view at the end.

Boise has all three, not to mention

The World Center For Birds of Prey

one of the coolest places in the entire United States.

38

Jackson, Mississippi. May 2011.

37

Memphis, Tennessee. May 2011.

In Memphis you find a park with your name on it

and the restless Mississippi floods and heads downtown.

A Tennessee spring is truly something else.

36

Nashville, Tennessee. May 2011.

35

San Diego, California. April 2011.

Too many hotel rooms lately have screamed Romance

too many miles flown, the bedsheets instead bear the burden of a dead man

who still thinks room service coffee will save his life.

This year so far might as well have been yesterday or ten years ago or never

you don't really care which. You fumble for the remote in the darkness.

Every time you get on that plane you clutch your book to your chest

knowing it's the only thing that will be real for the next few hours.

Everywhere you go there are reminders that human beings try as hard as they can

to avoid being alone. Every waking moment, constantly.

It's something you're finally beginning to understand, after all this time.

You wonder if it's too late for you and allow a grim inward laugh at your own ridiculous fatalism.

The alarm clock goes off, taunting you with red numbers and confusion

breakfast comes through the door and the uniformed guy with the cart is so cheerful

that you find yourself leaning over the balcony railing with a cup of coffee in your hand

staring at the distant surf and the white beach

and making up his story in your head, his wife, his kids, his house, his hobbies.

You imagine it's pretty great, besides the whole delivering food on a cart bit.

The next day you watch a roller coaster go around three times, frozen in your tracks

debating, biting your lip, squinting

wondering if you should just get on the damn thing

fly solo

just like always but

maybe you'd forget, as you flew around weightless and childlike

and you'd get to just ride a roller coaster for a few seconds

just ride a roller coaster

like a little kid

34

Amelia Island, Florida. April 2011.

The biggest resort you've ever seen

a five-day job, long days, traveling by golf cart

nights of death-sleep

a free minute to take a walk

and a thorough cleaning of the minibar.

33

Mayfield, Kentucky. April 2011.

"Slowly you begin to understand that both hope and fear are enemies of your peace of mind;
hopes deceive you, and leave you empty and disappointed,
and fears paralyze you in the narrow cell of your false identity."

-The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying

32

 Paducah, Kentucky. March 2011.

Why did they send you here? To photograph a rotting funeral home.

It won't stop raining and the coffee in Paducah is unbearable.

Adrift, you navigate a continent of chain franchises on foot 

hopping medians, circling parking lots in search of dinner.

You awake with your head on a dirty table in the airport

(one gate, one TSA agent, one flight per day)

to your phone ringing

it's your Father "where are you"

"I don't know but I'm reading a really great book it's a biography of Tom Waits"

you're going home

your girlfriend has moved the furniture around since you were last there

she's at work when you land

you wonder if she's coming back

you don't bother to unpack

not anymore

31

Somerville, Tennessee. March 2011.

30

Pocatello, Idaho. March 2011.

The hotel is on the moon above this strange little town

so far from home

but there's something to be said

for cold mountains and frozen hands.