We all get some clean, fluffy something, to balance out the mess
To hug us in the spa-less
To minimize our shakes, post pool
To throw on a toilet overflow
To rid ourselves of manmade rain
To scream into when we can’t make sound
To take our faces off
Those put on so our mouths could make spandex of the truth
We all get a towel MORE
I know that when we’re approaching 20, what’s considered “profound” or “groundbreaking” may only be mildly, either of those things. We have a naively stocked repertoire of comparisons to run with at that time, after all…
Take FRAME 10. This is from a contact sheet from my college b&w darkroom class.
If I were someone else, producing one of those cliché-filled feeds or coffee table books we all know so well, I might say this lone rearview mirror I snapped from my parents’ car one cold Vermont day speaks to: “The things I can’t see right before me, when I’m dwelling in the past.”
But I’m not about to say that. MORE
Why not pick your teeth of the region’s finest sardines, before hopping that plane. Before returning to our building, to our bed, and to me lying there in it… to finally tell me: You were in love with another her.
What’s a little New Yorker by the water, when you’re about to kill her. MORE
Dear beloved friends… I’ve been MIA due to several waves of sickness. But I’ve made it to the other side, and I wanted to say hi! I thought, how better than with my box art still, “DATE WITH ADAM”. It’s a reminder that the “apple a day” thing might be something to consider more seriously… I guess Eve just wanted her man to be healthy, is the real story. Health be yours, and more from me soon!
Is there something wearing you? Something wearing you down, ironically, by way of your distance? Is it easier to pretend away it’s there by way of layered, colorful distraction? I know I’ve been good at that game.
Today I came across a Picasso quote. “Only put off until tomorrow what you are willing to die having left undone.” CLICK for MORE
I descended into that musty place and found colors usually attached to me, pleasantly fanned out on tables. Like I’d been swallowed up inside the kitsch and tourist-oriented design of someone who unknowingly, and possibly half-heartedly, decorated my very core into spot-on outward display. Naked in a pink chair, I became. Exposed in the saturation of it, and me. Like they knew. CLICK for MORE