drop out and cop out

"As I went walking I saw a sign there
And on the sign it said “No Trespassing.”
But on the other side it didn’t say nothing,
That side was made for you and me."

— Woody Guthrie, former patient at Greystone Park State Hospital; redacted from the “final” version of “This Land is Your Land” due to political pressure upon Guthrie. (via ianference)

adventuresintheabyss:

top, summer of 2013. (taken by me) bottom, summer of 2014. (taken by dropcop)

every year things change. reminders of the passage of time. nature reclaims all, takes that which we have stolen from it and reshaped as creations of our own. breaks down wood of dead trees carved into the shape of boards, disintegrates fabric woven from plant fibers, corrodes the minerals taken from the earth and forged into metals for hinges and nails.

his handwriting fades.

saplings grow between the detritus of a life abandoned.

the earth settles.

a stranger has been here, between the last time I visited and this time. they moved items. hung up the gritty old army jacket, and took the red candle which sat on the remnants of his bed. otherwise, left things undisturbed.

my imagination runs rampant.

photosfromtheabyss:

dropcop in action.
dropdoesdamage:

photosfromtheabyss:

the meade hotel in bannack, montana is creepy. not because it’s “haunted”, but rather because the ceilings are just high enough that it creates a disquieting feeling in anybody who walks its hallways. the slope of the floors is slightly disorienting, and the surprise of seeing such a huge, vacant (but clean) space causes an uncomfortable feeling in a visitor- particularly if you’re there at night, and are one of the few people in a hundred-mile radius. combined with the distant flash and rumble of a storm moving east across the mountains and prairie, and it was a truly special context in which to explore this beautiful, eerie piece of history.
so far as people’s impressions that it’s “haunted”, i would suggest that maybe an old building is prone to have drafts (“cold spots”) and obviously you will hear the laughter of children in a place that’s frequented by tourists with small children. (especially if it’s built in a valley- like bannack is- and the sound of people that you might not even see is carried through the streets and bounces off hills and buildings.) the fact that doors move “on their own” is no surprise- strong, frequent winds are liable to whip through the building and pull doors closed (or push them open if not securely latched), and the whole town is built with the slightest angle downhill toward the creek.

any other phenomena experienced inside the old meade hotel— the feeling that you are being watched by an invisible occupant, the sensation of a cold finger running up your spine when no one is there, the growing suspicion that the walls are quivering with tension, stretched fractionally higher each passing moment by some unseen force, while you are being inversely diminished, hushed, smothered— can easily be attributed to the late hour and gloaming light, and weariness from a long day on the road.
surely better to stay a while, and rest.

dropdoesdamage:

photosfromtheabyss:

the meade hotel in bannack, montana is creepy. not because it’s “haunted”, but rather because the ceilings are just high enough that it creates a disquieting feeling in anybody who walks its hallways. the slope of the floors is slightly disorienting, and the surprise of seeing such a huge, vacant (but clean) space causes an uncomfortable feeling in a visitor- particularly if you’re there at night, and are one of the few people in a hundred-mile radius. combined with the distant flash and rumble of a storm moving east across the mountains and prairie, and it was a truly special context in which to explore this beautiful, eerie piece of history.

so far as people’s impressions that it’s “haunted”, i would suggest that maybe an old building is prone to have drafts (“cold spots”) and obviously you will hear the laughter of children in a place that’s frequented by tourists with small children. (especially if it’s built in a valley- like bannack is- and the sound of people that you might not even see is carried through the streets and bounces off hills and buildings.) the fact that doors move “on their own” is no surprise- strong, frequent winds are liable to whip through the building and pull doors closed (or push them open if not securely latched), and the whole town is built with the slightest angle downhill toward the creek.

any other phenomena experienced inside the old meade hotel— the feeling that you are being watched by an invisible occupant, the sensation of a cold finger running up your spine when no one is there, the growing suspicion that the walls are quivering with tension, stretched fractionally higher each passing moment by some unseen force, while you are being inversely diminished, hushed, smothered— can easily be attributed to the late hour and gloaming light, and weariness from a long day on the road.

surely better to stay a while, and rest.

Roadtrip, 8/22. A home in eastern Washington, flanked by two guardian trees. The southeastern tree flourishes; the northwestern tree is skeletal and long-dead.