On: you shut the FUCK up, and you SHUT THE FUCK UP: that's what the fuck you do.

I've done some extremely sexy exploring recently, but due to dead batteries and the desire to stretch my low light film photograhy skillz I now have to wait until I have enough moneys to develop two rolls of film. Actually, one and a half because I am clumsy and the film got caught on the camera and half the roll was burned while I was changing rolls. Luckily my exploring friend brought a lovely camera and took lots of pictures; but I'm not going to put them up yet because I haven't asked him for permission. I'm all nice like that.



You can find pictures of the locations online anyways: Kodak and Symes. Give it a shot. Better: just go there. These places are, like, the most beautiful things EVER.



But instead: Here's a step on some street downtown and a house on Augusta. YOURE WELCOME.

On: Meh. Yeah, I dunno.

On: so let me have a piece of that Sweet Potatoe Pie.

Numbers shuffle. I don’t usually do New Year’s resolutions so instead I’m doing a 25th year resolution. It’s convenient being born on December 30th; you can pretend that the western world revolves around your birth. I resolve; to live more simply, deliberately and lovingly. This means; spend less money, read, write and draw more, watch online tv less, wake up earlier, smoke less, think more, and spend more time with friends. Because I love them, and I’m too much of a hermit, I can feel my world becoming more internal all the time and soon I’ll go squirrely and agoraphobic if I don’t watch myself. The rest should be easy – especially the money. Going shopping now disgusts me. I can’t stay in stores. All those people…uhg…spending money….even grocery shopping gives me pain now.
Enough complaining. I want to go draining! This is rambly because I slept funny and I’m not awake in my brain yet.
And eat a dandelion. I would like to do that.

On: There is still a wall in front of me.

Documenting


Between a poem and a poem
There is an age
Of memories emptiness
Who will document nonexistence?
It is the age of the poet


Still


Whenever my head shattered a wall
I said: ‘I still have a head’
Whenever a wall shattered my head
I said: ‘There is still a wall in front of me’

Nabila Zubair – A Sea Haunts Me

On: relating to pigeons

The first page of my diary-in-progress.

On: no biggie, just my favorite self portrait of time thus far.

On: Racoon house, continued.

I'm calling this the raccoon house, though I don't remember if that's entirely accurate. Just about all of the houses I've been in had signs of wildlife, particularly raccoons, but this one had been taken over more thoroughly. I used to have tons of pictures from this house; it was only one country block from my parent’s residence so I would bike there on a regular basis, it was positively gorgeous, and I'm quite sad that I have so little documentation remaining. Torn down last year, I think.

On: HOT TUB HONEY MOON

1) Exposed piping in the Deathpit (my cherished sub-urban home) 2) The stove in the Racoon house (more on it to follow) taken by my darling father 3) HOT TUB HONEY MOON, the text on a sign for an (I assume) sleezy motel a half an hours walk from my room.

On: the words that will haunt me.

"And so they smashed all they could smash, creating wars without opponents. Their rage became their art. They no longer wondered if they were good enough to deserve their bodies-their life. Instead, they challenged their bodies to deserve them.

This was not the end of the world, but it was the beginning of sorrows" (Coupland, Generation A, 204)

Pon: de floor.

On: film.