WestVirginiaVille

A picture of the day — or of the night — from downtown Huntington, several hours after an evening on stage of dueling funny singer-songwriters.

Dammit Dammit Dammit. I say to myself, rounding the corner of a building on the Marshall University campus this morning espying my Honda. The sign of a hassle, flying its flag upon my windshield, a ticket.

I have spent my adult life rounding curves in the road here in West by god or so they say Virginia. There are curves around most every curve here.

The point is to get to the point where you no longer feel the need to ask: ‘What’s the point?’ Yet the older I get, the more I think this misses the point.

Crossing west to east across the swooping West Virginia hills, a watery pilgrimage I always make is to stroll to the midst of the arching bridge at Seneca Rocks.

So, there I was, walking across the Krogers parking lot toward the opening when Zeus in his heaven shafted me with a lightning bolt.

Some nights, I drag home from the office with all good intentions. I’ll finally write that piece about my thoughts on Occupy Whatever. But then, I got nothin’. But I got pictures.

A few photos from around the world and some words from a connoisseur of Blue Rooms. The first I noticed were rooms turned blue where people went to hide in the sure glow of the TV talking.