Not long ago I took a trip to Alabama. Saw some interesting stuff and learned a bit. I went in October to see my old friend Bruce. We started taking pictures and doing the darkroom thing at about the same time in High School. He’s the only person I’ve ever gone out with to wander around looking for pictures to take. So, when I went to see him last October we went wandering for photos. Visited some ghost towns (like Burnt Corm) and haunted graveyards. I mean it was October.
If I’m bringing you along for the ride then I should at least start at the birth of the Robin Randle Stories. At the time I was struggling, to put it lightly, with delayed onset Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. The personal particulars aren’t important but what is important is the fact that PTSD is an indescribable thing. I can’t come up with the words that would impart to you the full scope of what it is like to be trapped inside yourself not knowing who the hell you are anymore. At the time I was working on a project I call Mercy Lake. I still want to develop that story but what happened was Robin Randle. She was supposed to be a waitress at a diner in the town of Mercy Lake. I didn’t feel she was going to become a major character in the story but I was having a hell of a time defining who she was at all.
I watched the news yesterday and today and again I am in shock. I don’t recognize my country anymore. The ability to have civil discourse is dead.
Billy Graham’s Prayer For Our Nation Heavenly Father, we come before you today to ask your forgiveness and to seek your direction and guidance. We know Your Word says, “Woe to those who call evil good,” but that is exactly what we have done. We have lost our spiritual equilibrium and reversed our values. We […]
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