Blog Archives
broken home
Here’s something else I spotted on my work trip the other day.
Clearly, this mobile home encountered something disastrous and I went back on Saturday to give it a further look.
It was new: as I walked up I could smell the new wood and the weird out-gassing smell of plastic laminate or flooring or whatever.
And also, is it just me, or does the part of the wall that’s just below the power pole look like part of an eye?
Lynn County, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026
flat/screen
Last week I had to drive to Tahoka for a meeting; on the drive I kept my eyes open for future photos.
This farmhouse was one of the things I saw and it was my first stop on a weekend photo-drive.
Every one of these old houses looks basically the same on the inside, with crap just piled up everywhere. But then again, each one is different. I’ve seen shoes and clothes and books and dolls and tires and jars of applesauce.* This one featured not only a deceased rat lying on its back on the sofa, like it was taking a little nap, but it also had the morning light coming through windows and a broken flat-screen television.
Lynn County, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026
*I first wrote “jars of applesauce and tires” which sounds like an impossible thing but also sounds like something I’d really like to see.
hammond
I have issues. Not in general (although of course I do have quite a few general issues) – but with the things in this photo.
First of all, it bothers me a lot that the star on the hot-cold thing is wrong side up. I can almost understand the decision to point in down toward the round thing* but, it is just wrong.
But what gets me even more is that cloud that has a hand (A hand! What the hell?) growing out of the bottom of it.
And let’s not even get into the discussion about if the building that’s held by the cloud-hand is supposed to be a hand-held size or if the cloud-hand is actually gigantic enough to hold an entire building.
Tahoka, Texas
photographed 2.28.2026
*to use the technical term
one drop can start a flood
An allegory:
It was just a drop. One drop.
There were drops before it; since I didn’t see them, it’s like they never happened. And there were surely unseen drops that follow, but they didn’t count either. At the time.
But then, before I even knew what was happening, the seen drop and all the unseen ones came together and there was a flood. Damage is still being tallied.
Post, Texas
photographed 8.6.2024
oddly classical
I’m not really used to thinking about a gas stations being so fancy that they required Ionic columns and clay tile roofs, but this place had both of those things.
Also, it has all those windows and would make a fine art studio – just needs a couple of weekends, probably, to get it all set up.
Breckenridge, Texas
photographed 8.6.2022
One Day | One Image 