Lost and Found

While working up some scans from some old negatives I came across an image of a young woman.

A portrait of a cousin of mine, the picture was taken at a family gathering at my Grandparent’s farm in 1969. She was the daughter of my mother’s oldest brother but I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember her name. My connection with that branch of my relations was never very strong, even though they lived in the same city I did when I was growing up. I knew the names of her older siblings—my sister was close to the eldest daughter—but, for some reason, this person never really made much of a impression on me. Part of that was my own cluelessness. I was only 18 when I took this picture and she was three years older, a bigger gulf between our ages then than it seems to be now. She was nice and must have felt comfortable enough to let a gangly teen take her picture. Her parents liked to take an occasional drink (or three, or more) and I sensed that there was a rift between her father and my mother that may have been based in childhood.

I did a Google search for her parents and sister, plus the city they lived in, and “obit.” Her obituary came right up. She had lived a good life: a professional woman and a beloved step-mother and grandmother. She died at 73 during the height of the Covid pandemic.

Rest in peace Joanie, I’m sorry I missed knowing you…

Mulder’s Kitchen

Abandoned farm house, Deuel County, South Dakota, c.1995:

More from Mulder’s farm…

Where Will My Eden Be?

Twenty Years Ago on FITK

Hi you, two booths down
Would you like to join me?
You see
It's been years
since I've had a man
You know.
To slap me around.

I would love to
But I have weak wrists
Can't make a fist, he sighed
I can only kiss you
violently to show you
You know.
Who is boss.



Conversations at a breakfast table, my impending doom.

As I handed over breakfast to my father yesterday morning, he looked at me and said, "You're getting married at 29." I stared at him and then began railing. It was a rant of denial, my friends, and although I'm not too sure I remember, I might have sounded something like this -

"Twenty-nine? So soon? Are you sure? Who told you?
That's like, three years away. So soon? I haven't had enough relationships yet.
So soon? Who told you, Baba, who told you?
I should really speed up my moves now. If my marriage is three years away, I need to have as many affairs as possible before that. So many men, so little time!"

So then my pater brings out this yellowed scroll that is my first horoscope, made at the time I was born, and showed me that the stars indeed had predicted a late marriage for me. The chances of me tying the knot (or noose, if you please) are very high when I am twenty nine. Only now, the late marriage does not look so *late* anymore.

Oh, and to think that of all the guys I know already, not ONE is marriage material ...yeah, that knowledge helps a lot. So it should basically be someone who is going to materialize out of nowhere in the next three years, fit the *husband* bill as I see it, and make me fall in love with him (because arranged marriage remains a no-no), like me back in equal measure, AND be ready for commitment and marriage.

Hah! Like Charles Dickens said, "Great Expectations!"

Anyways, I will be off tomorrow for the land of Robbie T (Rabindranath Tagore for the uninitiated) - Shantiniketan, where I shall listen to the songs of the bauls - the traveling bards, and watch the dark tribal girls sway to the rhythm of mohua, the local liquor made from fermented dates.

It's as much Hedonism that I can work up at short notice. If I am indeed to be married within the next three years, I'm making sure I live the high life before I fall to my grave.

~ RS

Video and re-post

Tjarnarskóli Tower

Tjarnarskóli is one of the most distinctive buildings in Reykjavík.

While first-time visitors to the city are often impressed by this distinctive red-roofed yellow-sided landmark, they are usually mystified as to its function as there is no English signage indicating is provenance.

Built in 1906, Lækjargata 14b is a wooden building east of Iðnó by the Pond in Reykjavík. I’ve often wondered about what goes on inside its corrugated walls. Notable for its Gothic-style tower, this “little school with a big heart” is a private junior high school located in was once The Agricultural House.  The Icelandic Agricultural Society built the building in 1906, and its offices were at the south end of the house for decades. Although the building is more than a century old, the school it contains was founded in 1985. The school’s emphasis is on human development and individualized learning, functioning as a private, tuition-based alternative to public school education. It attracts “… students seeking specific learning approaches.” The number of students is about 50.

The purpose of the tower remains unknown to me, Iceland’s Bell, perhaps?.

Iceland iPhone Idolatry

Phone worshippers, Iceland, October/November 2025 (click to embiggen):

When I first went to Iceland (March 2000) people had flip phones that they would text on: tap-tap-tap, send, and snap!

Ten years later iPhones were becoming more common, but not yet with the attendees at the 2009 Iceland Airwaves.

Now, iPhones (and Android) are everywhere. I use mine sparingly, I prefer to directly experience the world around me, especially when I’m in Iceland.

Fine, I won’t walk around at night…

Twenty Years Ago on FITK

The rain had begun to fall. Luckily, I was wearing the new rain jacket and was apathetic. In fact, the jaunt now had purpose. Let the rain wash away my restlessness and let the jacket catch the extra droplets of relief. The bars on West Main were hopping most metaphorically, and thanks to a sharp eye, I know where to catch one of my former professors in case I have a question on the shapes of galaxies or wormholes (sometimes I do, y’know).

It’s Finals Week here, but you couldn’t tell with the number of college students skipping to and fro to various apartments, smelling of Miller Lite, Jack Daniels, and that once deceased Bohemian spirit, now urbanized and modernized. The atmosphere was pretty carefree. It was like the night before a festival, and only the rain hinted otherwise (rain normally comes the day of festivals)...

People on their cell phones, some with Slurpees,and others with girlfriends. Truly fascinating spectacles for a Monday night romp.

I had just gotten to the section of West Main where I’m between FanTastic Thrift and Family Dollar, and the rain fell harder. A luxurious car was slowing down as the others were speeding past, and I knew what was coming. First came the greeting.

Three males, obviously out-of-towners seeking a bit of fun.

“HEY! Do you know where the strip bars are at?!”

“No, I’m sorry I can’t help you there!”

“Where are YOU going? We stopped to talk to you!”

“I’m just out for a walk!”

“Where are you from?”

“Oh five hours away from here.”

“Oh, we’re farther away than that. We’re from California!”

“What are you doing all the way over here then?”

“We came to D.C. and we thought we’d drive through here!”

“Ah, I see!”

“Do ya’ need a ride?”

"“Oh no, I’m fine, thank you though!”

“Are you suuuure?”

“Yes, yes. I’m just out for a stroll.”

“You need a ride to that home five hours away?”

“No, no. I’m fine, I’m fine really! Thank you! Go have fun!”

The driver didn’t look older than 16, so it was tough for me to take them seriously. I felt so much older than him. He had a light, cheery voice, whereas his comrades looked to be in their late twenties.

I continued on my walk, not giving the three a second thought. I was approaching another intersection when I saw that same luxurious car pull out from a side street, and zoom off. At first, I thought they had finally found a bar to their liking, but then I realized that wasn’t the case. I saw the car keep going into the distance, but it was slowing down.

West Main is a one way street, so I decided not to finish my romp, but to turn around and go back the way I came.

The rain stopped the moment I turned around, and campus was soon in sight again.

Lesson learned.

~ By Comica, Reposted

Resistance/Resilience

Álafoss, Iceland:

Anoka, Minnesota:

Bainbridge Island, Washington:

Appropriation — Attribution

Over the last twenty years I’ve posted numerous images on the internet. Mostly here on FITK, but many were in various forums and even some in Wikipedia. In the early days of the internet people were generally conscientious about asking for permission and would dutifully give credit where credit was due.

That was then, this is now.

When the Internet’s leading guru/pundit blatantly steals a copyrighted image and defaces it, he is lauded for his efforts: the image goes viral and even helped him land a book deal. I’m not too concerned about my images, my hope is that others are glad to see them and that their lives have been enriched by the experience. Wikipedia images, however, do come with caveats (my emphasis in bold):

I, the copyright holder of this work, hereby publish it under the following license:

w:en:Creative Commons: attribution share alike

This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license.

You are free:

to share – to copy, distribute and transmit the work
to remix – to adapt the work

Under the following conditions:

attribution – You must give appropriate credit, provide a link to the license, and indicate if changes were made. You may do so in any reasonable manner, but not in any way that suggests the licensor endorses you or your use.
share alike – If you remix, transform, or build upon the material, you must distribute your contributions under the same or compatible license as the original.

Recently Neal Bond, a Facebook group host, used a couple of my images in an AI-generated video about Koerner, Ray, and Glover, a seminal folk-blues trio from Minnesota. The original black and white images (shown at bottom) were transformed into impasto-style paintings and, I must admit, impressively so. But there was no attribution and he claimed a copyright. While The video (and the AI song on the soundtrack) isn’t exactly AI slop (it’s more like AI treacle) but Neal’s heart is in the right place. He’s made dozens of these ‘tributes’ but they would be classier with some attributions, even a split-second mention in an end title would suffice.

Here is Neal’s AI rendering of my photo of Dave Ray (his AI rendering of Tony is above):

And here are my originals:

Perhaps I protest too much.

But if my work had been represented by Getty Images, I just might have a case.

Smoker’s Alley

Twenty Years Ago on FITK

Every school had one.

A place for that last butt before classes. The space between the garages was popular for those who were “sneak” smokers. The alleys were tolerated by the officals, better to have them there than in the lavs, I suppose. Girls all wanted to stay thin. Boys wanted to impress the girls. Everyone stank. There are still some from my high school class that pound the heaters.

There are some that still would if they had the breath to inhale.

Pascal Pinon on PBS

My favorite Icelandic musical twins, Jófríður and Ásthildur Ákadóttir, have made the big time, being featured on the PBS show Great Performances, shown performing with host Scott Yoo in an Icelandic turf house.

The show is beautifully shot and in addition to the musical segments there is a lot of Icelandic scenery and culture: it could have easily been two hours; or four; or even a miniseries!

Twenty-six years ago I started my Iceland obsession with Halldór Laxness’ great novel Independent People, the story of a crofter living in a turf house. Sixteen years ago I discovered Jófríður and her sister Ásthildur and the simple, honest music they made in Pascal Pinon. Now I can see them playing one of their songs in a turf house on national TV.

The circle is complete.