- C.A. MacConnell -

1/13/2016

Photo: Mustang, Outer Banks 2

Rooney Mara in Carol = mesmerizing!! Dicaprio in The Revenant, the same. I loved both Carol and Revenant equally for different reasons. But I sure dug Compton, man, so good. This year was full of talented performances. I've been reading and watching movies like crazy. :) I can entertain myself very easily. Actually, I'm learning a lot from the masters.
C.A. MacConnell

1/12/2016

One Buck, One Life

Man, I was caught up. Running late, I was obsessed, trapped in busy thinking. I gripped the steering wheel. I need sleep, I miss mountains, thermal shirts, hit the men's section. That's right, I was a mad woman on a driving mission. Cat food, I'm a bad person, paper towels, Pepsi, coffee, what is he doing, what am I doing. On and on, my brain chattered. Cruising along, taking the turns too fast, I suddenly got stuck behind a mini van that was going about twenty. So I tailed Van Man, hoping that he would speed up. Oh yeah, toilet paper and gum.

No luck. Van Man barely rolled along, repeatedly hitting the brakes, turning into a souped-up teeter totter.

I sulked in my seat, tortoise-crawling down the road. Jesus, I said to myself, watching the brake lights blink in front of me. I turned the radio on and off.

Still, the van was barely moving in front of me.

I knew that I was going to be really late.

Then, suddenly, the Van Man came to a full stop in the middle of the road.

Startled, I hit my brakes, assuming that Van Man was going to jump out of the car and yell at me for tailing him. Nervous, I waited for the attack. But I was dead wrong.

Van Man just sat there in the middle of the road.

Frozen meals. Studying the scene a little closer, I saw a large, ghostly shape move in front of the van. I squinted; it was a huge, majestic deer -- a king-sized buck with an enormous set of antlers. He was beautiful, and he wasn't in a hurry either. Slowly, he made his way across the road, one graceful step at a time. When he almost reached the other side, he stopped, looking up. There, he stared at me, gazing through my windshield, seeming to look me right in the eye. He paused a little, fiercely staring. Then, ever so calmly, he went on his way into the woods.

This world is so much bigger than me.

And I realized that I was a trespasser in his home. If it weren't for the Van Man holding me back, I would've hit that beautiful deer. And what a magnificent creature he was. I believe in angels. That soul, that dignified buck. Dear god.

C.A. MacConnell

1/11/2016

Photo: Mustang, Outer Banks

Mustang, Outer Banks

Believe it or not, even though there was a fence here, it actually stretched for miles width-wise, and it was to keep people out, rather than to keep the horses in. This was indeed a wild mustang, although he was a kind fellow. I climbed the fence even though there was a government warning posted. This was my favorite vacation ever. Also the last vacation I've been on. It was 2000. That's right, I haven't been on a real vacation in 16 years, but I feel like I take daily vacations in my head, ha. For instance, right now, I'm on Gilligan's Island. For real, I've been to that island...we went on a cruise when I was about fourteen, and we visited the island where they filmed some of the opening scenes and such of the show...it was still uninhabited, and I loved it, but I was worried about my white bathing suit looking goofy because it had no straps and a stupid-looking ruffle, and my chest wasn't really holding it up.

That Farmer poem I wrote this morning cracked me up. I was thinking about how funny it would be if someone was expecting a true love poem, and they received some crazed last line. The weirdest things crack me up. Like literally, I was sitting in my car in tears laughing about it later. Maybe you were too. That fucked-up poet would make the greatest SNL character. I have a gazillion of these ideas, no lie. Steal away. I'm just a sitting duck.

I love this picture,

C.A. MacConnell

Bleach

Bleach
soaks into fresh grout.
Lucy and her sisters
Clean like mad.
A visitor, I say, Hello, and I ask them
If I'm in the way.
It's seven at night.
My name is really Lucia, she says.

I ask them if I'm in the way.

C.A. MacConnell

1/08/2016

Photo: Me + Bo the Dog

Me + Bo the Dog

It's love.

C.A. MacConnell

1/05/2016

A Good Hand

She’s not playing any

War.

Maybe some stray cats suck cigars.
They like to bet.
They like to watch.
Others play poker in the
Basement.

She returns for

More.

Maybe some like to
Fish.
Maybe by the river, an all-day game
With the packed cooler,
And the bait,
And the hook.

Always, she wishes for a good

Hand.

She can’t live

With the broken zipper.
The only fix
Is the face, and some kind of

Reality, like blue
Eyeshadow.

-- C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Niagara

Niagara

My favorite line that I ever wrote in a comedy/love story is this: "Jesus Christ, when did you show up? I already fuckin' cried out Niagara over you." A little while back, for some reason I got to thinking about Niagara Falls, and I was annoyed that I'd never been there, so I hopped in my car and drove all the way there, took this shot, then drove home. Weird, I know. This is original -- unedited b/w film.

C.A. MacConnell

1/03/2016

Vacation Room

There's no question -- she is beneath him.
Flat on her back, licking her lips,
swimming in sheets, she is seemingly
satisfied. For miles, no one is near. Quiet,
the hours. They could be under water.

Blue on white, she buries herself
under blankets. Always, she’s on time
to meet him. True, she's always drop
dead, carrying limes. Mornings, door
service, it seems that he couldn’t live

without her. Nights, he stacks trays,
unsure how long she will last. No rain --
each dawn glows in the vacation room.
Surely, hiding will make her and break her
into the love of his life. A vision, she sleeps

cold now. But shouldn't her middle hold
less curve. Shouldn't the cut cheek slide into
the chin, stabbing the jawline. And the side
of her face -- shouldn't it hold more lines,
showing the age, the lost years etched

into another shade of eye. When will the pupil
become larger, the black giving up to a fierce,
traveling light. And when she turns, tosses,
rolls over, why doesn't her tired breathing
deepen, like the bravest at rest, like horses.

C.A. MacConnell

1/02/2016

Photo: Johnny Two Dot

Johnny Two Dot

5 y.o. 16.3h dark bay thoroughbred gelding off the track. Jump: 3'3"

C.A. MacConnell

Photo: Shy Guy

Shy Guy

5y.o., 16.2h chestnut thoroughbred gelding off the track.

C.A. MacConnell

12/29/2015

Photo: Jimmy

Horse Trainer Jimmy Wood

C.A. MacConnell

12/28/2015

Photos: Shunkaha. Wolf.

C.A. MacConnell

12/23/2015

Back to the Barn

Lexington, KY

Hi there, working on this nostalgic piece. Really like how it turned out. :) Love, C.A.

Back to the Barn

There was a time when life was all about horseshoes
and weather. When we walked the barn aisles, spurs
began clicking. Shelby was tallest. Sometimes dirt
seeped through the boot cracks. With tough, small
hands, we checked our stirrups, the girth, our bridles --
throat latch, nose band, reins -- making sure the bit
made three wrinkles in the corners of the horse's lips.

Micki and Michelle wore makeup. Rough kid winters,
toes stung while we pulled off the tack, jerking lead ropes
from the numbered rack. We day-lived in the barn lounge,
resting on dog-chewed, orange, vinyl chairs, dealing cards,
playing the game of Speed, and one brother always won.
Our stained Lands End jackets -- how they held the dust
close; we wore them with the collars turned up, fighting

frostbite. Once, I took the wrong one home. Halfway
back from the horse show, I dug my hands deep inside
the pockets, pulling out too-large, crochet-back gloves,
a horse show list, and Christopher's snakeskin watch.
For a day, I wore it. How I wanted to ride like Chris.
Born with the seat and eye, no one could touch him.
We rode through spooky storms and August steam.

How I gripped sweaty reins. Muddy days, Mel and I
were forever checking the fields for lost shoes. One
lesson in the front ring, the toe of Matt's boot touched
mine. No accident, but that was all, ever. Blistery
summers, the testy hose. Cooling out, everyone but Amy
drank the well water. Like seals in the sun, at the picnic
table, we stretched our bodies to dry, then walked down

to the K&M Store, where the sandwich meat was always
too thick. Lee liked the Moon Pies. I think P.J. liked pickles.

C.A. MacConnell

12/18/2015

Photo: Museum

Museum

I really like this shot, and it does always remind me of Wes Anderson films for some reason. Kind of has that quirky nature to it. The sign's almost bigger than the museum itself, ha. Ironically, this museum is located on historic land, and the entire area surrounding this building is chock-full of Native American history and artifacts. In reality, deep tales are buried everywhere outside of the museum, and the surrounding land has a strange vibe to it. There's a feel of unrest, silence, and a thousand words that need to be spoken. I got lost wandering around there. And nervous. Anyway, I felt like the photo expressed this strange duplicity.

C.A. MacConnell

12/16/2015

Photo: December Meadow

December Meadow

This one's my favorite. It reminded me of the desert. :)
C.A. MacConnell

Photos: Airport Skies

They say that a person should hang out around those things that she/he would like to bring into his/her life. And so I do. I hang out with the fliers. Today, I will stay focused and keep looking up.

"The most difficult thing is the decision to act...the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life, and the procedure, the process is its own reward." -- Amelia Earhart