My Photo


  • Jill Posener - Home
    Click on this link to go to my photo site. Find out why some call me one of the causes of societal degradation. Oh well, what can you do?


Albany Bulb

  • Albany Bulb
    These photographs are just a few I have taken over the last ten years at The Albany Bulb, also known as the Landfill, the Waterfront and just The Bulb. It is a place I feel passionate about. That much is obvious. There are many of us who believe that this piece of the much hyped Eastshore State Park should have been left untouched and unmanaged - because it is a unique example of what happens when a place naturally and organically self regulates. But the dogma of 'preservation' and 'conservation areas' 'resource protection', 'habitats' and 'liability' overrules all individual identity. They cannot leave anything untouched, un-designed. It is as if if they (the park planners) didn't make it, it has no value. Rules, guidelines, regulations, interpretive signage, fences, safety, sanctioned art - it leaves nothing to the imagination. That is what the landfill meant to us - a place of unlimited imagination.
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September 20, 2009


susie fought

to hell with beauty. you hit the fucking point spot on. now i'm angry too.

Zerbina Louise Feathery's mom (zee was my first sheepdot, hee hee, I mean sheepdog)

Jill, Our Hero, take heart.

In these hard-shelled times, as others look away, cower, quit, walk the other way, shrug, give in, or give up -- you've never failed to fiercly love.

We are one family who owes our familyhood to your tenacity, and we hold you in the light.

(And hey, the light we know is from the pure, clear, high peak of the top slopes of the mountain where we live.

(Hee hee, we're only in Cleveland temporarily.)

We normally live in Mt. Shasta, and that's the place we go in our minds when we think of you.

You brought us Neville (a silky little bundle of protesting border collie, taken too soon from his birth mother)

and Gillian (sturdy little stubby-legged sheepdog with polka-dots and a loud woof)

when our beloved Old English Zerbina was in her wheelchair, blind and fading.

Zerbina smiled as the puppies caused trouble -- all of them Berzerkley through and through. Because of you, Zerbina felt she could let go and leave her aching human mama, and go to her peace.

Oh my, oh Jill, we'll never be able to thank you enough.

We follow your blogs.

We buy your books.

We enjoy your thoughtful photos (and your x-rated ones, too, truth be told).

We cry with you, and we chew up the furniture and electronics with you too.

In our world, every big-woofed, shaggy, butt-wag (Gillian's) and every impish, doe-eyed, "dare-ya" yip (and nip) (Neville's) not only brings happiness to our active family -- but sends merit to you.

As the Buddhists wish, we wish: may all sentient beings know the goofy unconditional love of a couple of Jill-rescued sheepies!

Jill, we love you. We lick your picture. Our doggy breath -- your salty face. Forever.

Think of us when "it" gets you down.

We'll see you the next time we're in Berkeley, tangling up one mama in our leashes, in excitement to see our other mama, the mama of Calvin, Frankie, Roo and the new guys.

Till then, we recommed peanut butter, cheese, stolen donuts and racoon poo
-- you know, comfort foods!

Chow for now.

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