9:03

Today was a good day.
Woke up with a BBQ hangover, but the atomic triple latte Colin bought me at Kansas City’s finest cafe took care of business.



This unique urinal caught my eye at the KC market. It’s made by ‘Sloan’.



We were twisted around in construction driving out of town, but eventually we made it to the plains. We saw dozens of plump-looking red tail hawks sitting in the trees and fence posts at the roadside.



The day could have ended with memories of grain elevators and white-tailed deer in the distance.
But Colin had more in store.
First, we had to stop and photograph decrepit urban landscapes in Oklahoma City.



Colin also insisted on finding a laneway named for an obscure rock band.



Our Flaming Lips quest lead, by happenstance, to:
a) Free food, including oysters and catfish sandwiches, which we ate on the street, huddled against the cold.
b) My very first NBA game. (Hornets vs. Grizzlies)
c) $10 bucks free gas, because the Hornets won with over 100 points. We’ll redeem the gas tomorrow at Love’s.



The bombing at the Murrah federal building took place at 9:02 in the morning.
The time 9:03 is meant to symbolize everything that’s happened since; the monument builders wanted to convey the loss of the city’s innocence, its struggle to reconstitute itself.
I’m fortunate to be able to sail through this place without having to mire myself in the rubble and blood of 12 years ago. Instead I'll take 9:03 as the open-ended, the unexpected, the motion towards the future.