The guy at the front of the Reno Trader Joe’s checkout line catches my eye and chuckles “A thousand bucks man. Eight days worth of Burning Man chow. For our whole camp. Crazy.” He and his buddy slap down their credit cards on what seems an impossible amount of food to consume in those days, even for people hardlining for some organic, free-range style munchies.

The Mind Eraser
“My feet. That’s the signal. They start twitching. And I know it’s coming,” C tells me. Out the window of the rushing train, the sun climbs up out of the eastern horizon of Colorado. I met C early this morning for the first time after she agreed to be interviewed for a project I’m working [...]

American Sinai: Wovoka & the Ghost Dance of Walker Lake
This is hallowed ground. Indigenous America’s Mt. Sinai. It’s Sea of Galilee. The birthplace of the Messiah, of late 19th century Indian Hope, and, as always (always) despair.

The Repressed Psychic at the Corner Bakery
And so vibrators become vibrations, and yoga becomes big business, and cupcakes tremble behind glass, and psychics get LLCs and graduate degrees, and the world becomes more exquisitely repressed and sanitized.
(Beach) Apocalypse Now
I love this photo in a kind of “postcards from the apocalypse” kind of way. The way the photo inverts the usual overly bright and shiny beach postcard genre. It’s gorgeously unsentimental and tragic.

Reading Virgil on the New York Stock Exchange Floor
Lower Manhattan, New York City 7a.m. I rest in front of George Washington’s statue at Federal Hall at 26 Wall Street. I sit with my camera bag waiting for the light to move so I can get a good exterior shot of the New York Stock Exchange across the street. I am on assignment this [...]

Chuck the Body Into Canada
…snapping her phone shut: “Well, that was Dan, he did it, he bought that place near me with the dead guy in the septic.” “I don’t know why he doesn’t just haul that thing outta there, walk across the border, and chuck it into Canada.” – Two older Montana women overheard in the Denver Airport [...]
Light & Letters | Words & Images of Hunger
Radio can pierce. Voice stabs me in a way very few things do. Someone’s voice on the radio is intimate, like you’re either being held by them or holding them. Close.

Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds, Ash Wednesday and the Mark of Cain
Given that the swastika is often read as a kind of perverted cross, and the marking of the forehead has a particular religious resonance, we can read that Raine’s forehead carvings invert the Ash Wednesday observance. The Ash Wednesday marking is a highly ritualized display of absolution. Raine’s marking scenes are highly stylized rituals of condemnation intended to foreclose such absolution. Aldo’s knife is a pen (however worn the analogy) with which he carves/writes/creates a space where evil cannot repent, a person cannot be forgiven, cannot switch sides, cannot become new, cannot shed a uniform for new clothes and be cleansed.
Talkin’ ‘Bout My Generation?
Now, finding my daughter hula-hooping or wearing wigs (even a man-wig) isn’t surprising. She scours thrift and costume stores for groovy wigs and is building a nice collection. She’s got a Liz Taylor wig, two Amelia Earhart wigs, a Paula Dean wig. Her Roger Daltrey wig is her only man-wig. It’s the combination of the wig and The Who and what those things meant to me in my own identity-formation that took me back a bit, equally as much as hearing my guileless pre-teen daughter belt out “we’re all wasted.”

The Super Bowl as directed by Tarantino, Lynch, Anderson, Godard, Herzog
What might the Super Bowl look like if directed by Quentin Tarantino, David Lynch, Wes Anderson, Jean-Luc Godard, or Werner Herzog?

Infinite Jest: Rodent shifts Time-Space Continuum and Other Thoughts on a Minor Holiday
It’s fitting on a day in which a largish varmint shivs the meteorological time-space continuum that the popular U.S. show Lost returns to explode what’s left of our collective brains. When we last left the hapless survivors of Oceanic 815 they too had cut loose from the time-space continuum (ok, I’ll stop using that phrase cause I don’t really know what it means because it involves math and I have all the mathematical prowess of a weather-predicting whistle-pig).
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Police Room 619, September 12 September 12, 2009
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African Sausage August 10, 2009
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Ten Most Influential Books March 30, 2010
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Sioux Charley Trail, Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness (Winter Count #1) March 7, 2009
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Sheep Shearing Video April 8, 2009
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Welcome to Montanamo Bay: Hardin Montana continues its campaign to become Gitmo North May 14, 2009
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Magic City Hen video & Expo this Saturday September 16, 2011
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Some Dreamers Along the Golden Line September 15, 2011
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The Mind Eraser March 3, 2011
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Bright Edges of the Earth December 21, 2010
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Acceptable Blasphemies: Reflections on Opening Day October 27, 2010
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Welcoming Autumn September 23, 2010
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Brad Johnson: Annabel. well, I wouldn't say either sara or i ar...
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annabel: Sorry, meant Sara....
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annabel: I thought I might be getting a photo display of Bu...
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Seth Gilcreast: Pretty nice post. I just stumbled upon your weblog...
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Sundance: So true. Honesty and evryehitng recognized....
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Lera Beile: wonderful post...
Most Read
- Police Room 619, September 12
- Where the Stress Falls
- American Sinai: Wovoka & the Ghost Dance of Walker Lake
- Quentin Tarantino’s Inglourious Basterds, Ash Wednesday and the Mark of Cain
- African Sausage
- Talkin’ ‘Bout My Generation?
- The Shear Delight of Wool
- Reading Virgil on the New York Stock Exchange Floor
- At the End of An American Metaphor: Santa Monica Pier, Route 66
- July 16th along the Jornada del Muerto
About This Site
140 miles east of cool is both a place and a space.
As a place, 140 miles east of cool is where I live–exactly 140 miles east of Bozeman, Montana in the “Magic City” of Billings, MT.
As a space, 140 miles east of cool lies at the margins of the metaphorical epicenters of the amenity west: places like Bozeman, Aspen, and Boulder.










