j.b.i.c.

response 2
P1033287-3.jpg

If the hills did have eyes, they would look upon you and say.

"Why are you here, right now, looking at me.

I am only a mountain. One of many.

Yet you seeked me out. You stared at me.

As though I were special.

As though I were unique."

"I only stare because I have to" you respond

"For to look at you is to make me understand my own fragility

Against your strength.

And your time.

And your immeasureable beauty.

For soon, like all who stood before me, I shall fall

And it is into the grace of all things, such as you

That I fall into.

I measure myself against you.

And for all time you have stood, and before you I shall fall."

"You speak as though small" it whispers back,

"You speak as if you were not a part of all of me.

Do you see that we are the same.

For I once was born, I now live and shall one day die."

"Yes, I know.

Though my sturdiness, my resolve and my world is fragile."

"As is mine."

And the hills then close their eyes. Dormant again as they silently sleep through a millennia that we can never comprehend.

Justin Batchelor
response 1
P1033172.jpg

Can you comprehend what is incomprehensible?

Can you think beyond the mass after mass on front?

Another turn yields another earthly structure. The same as the last.

But different.

Different curve.

Different shade.

Different in everything but composition.

Grasses.

Rock.

Mineral.

Atomic.

Sub atomic nothingness.

And as alive as the one before.

P1022057.jpg
Justin Batchelor
its a bit too dark

The road north bends a little. And then you descend. A 5km descent through a tunnel that seems to never end. As though Jules Verne said “just go that way”

Suffice to say, the landscape goes on, and on. An ever horizontal undulating variety of hills, mountains and sea.

That you see.

And can’t avoid.

A deep black full of low lying green. A turret of wind that picks you up to the next place. Or settles you to stay in one.

How do you comprehend the variety of low lying wilderness.

You cant. You can only be willing to succumb to the horrifying beauty.

P1022156.jpg
Justin Batchelor
All things considered.....

It’s where we all end up. A solitary abyss that no one knows of, can reconcile, or see.

I was careful there to include the Oxford comma. A comma that separates a list of three things. Or something like that.

And that’s life. A constant fear amongst a multitude of distractions. A place that that no one can see the light in or for. Where the world has the habit of getting the best of us, setting us towards the next sugar rush.

Much like this blog. From Squarespace. Easy internet things. Even put a URL in there.

We all will die.

See the end of things.

Pass our families and loved ones.

And we only hope, just hope, that through all of this we see the glimmer, the shards of light that pass by us so infrequently troubled, that we can see the life of things. The love of things.

The crema.

The yellow.

The iridescent blues.

But don’t forget that job you have to apply for. It will come and go more quickly than you can apply so you better apply for ten meaningless others.

To breathe.

To consider.

To see the weight of things that are tangible and important.

Not a reflection of a disappointment.

But a joyous reflection of all things considered.

Look…. an 8

an8


Justin Batchelor
ISO

ISO is the rating of film. 100, 200, 400, 800 etc

A thing that runs it course.

But always, everything is dependant on ISO.

100 for daylight. 1600 for darkness. Pushing the grain. Pushing the limits.

Welcome to 3200.

 

 

Justin Batchelor
Must be good to know people who know so many people

months in this town, this bustling town. This town of many a million, all looking out for themselves.

The community disappeared. Maybe in the 70-'s, maybe in the 60's. Who knows.

I know quicker ways to the shinier gates of hell.

Why here. Why now.

Why not.

On our back, watching the switchboards lighting up.

I am transient. Like all the single souls in this town.

And you. And you. And you.

You are the fastest of friends.

Justin Batchelor
La Mancha

La Mancha

Terry Gillian's foray into the most cursed movie in history led to its demise soon after it began. Firing ADs, accidents, a flood and a lead actor crippled within weeks. It was always known that it might fail, and it did.

As many things do. 

Being lost in La Mancha is not unprecetended. Many before have tread paths to nowhere. Seen a sudden drop or cliff and stepped back before it was too late.

Yet here, I am at the will of no one but myself. Sure, a little bit of expectation, but mainly resting comfortably on my shoulders.

What that doesn't take away is the isolation of this city. For without people, it's a place that's as worldly as it is isolating.

People seem to ache for the abode that keeps them comfortable, but also shielded from the chaos.

London is a shitty city. A metropolis so full of itself that it seems to have forgotten that the world is still turning around it. 

Brexit confounds even the most honest of neighbours. What they thought was a comfortable seat was actually just a joy ride for some for a time. Not actually understanding it's worth in the structure of a new world.

You gave us globalisation. We embraced it for all its problems. We looked forward to resolving them. And then you took it away.

As though the elderly had the vote to make it so decades ago, and still greedily held onto its record to take it away.

You dirty conservatives. You dirty old has beens. Death will not come soon enough for a world you wanted to control. Did control. And ruined it for everyone.

This isn't a modern city. It's a wasteland of memories, ambition and a flakey soul that cherishes a time that has long gone by.

And yet, as always.....Keep Clam and Carry On. In a decade, everything will be back to normal.

Justin Batchelor
Keep Busy

Heard about this dude today, a well known actor, who just passed. Whilst I never really saw him perform, I did the obligatory go to the twitter page and saw that he passed possibly 6 hours before his last tweet.

6 hours.

6 fucking hours. 

Here today, gone on the same day. A social media post and then ... well yeah.

Fragility. Everyone has it. The will of the bio world. Whilst we wish some may pass sooner, it doesn't matter. Because we all do.

Better keep busy. 

IMG_2943.JPG
Justin Batchelor