photoshoot

this was supposed to be an earthy 1920s shoot, but it didn't really turn out that way, other than laura's wardrobe i suppose

regardless, i'm very happy with the results
though, i need a better camera
i pray my film turns out

an unforeseen shift

i find myself more attached to my camera than to any bit of music lately

my entire life has hinged on sound

now everything is texture, light, curves
everything is the tilt of his head
and the way her hair falls

this is terrible and needs to be redone

she likes shadows

and you'll swear she's born of the morning
but she'll swear she's born of a storm

to the lake!

off to the lake with some of my closest friends. that last time i saw most of them was before the new year.

snippets of a drunken phonecall

"please come back to albion. i want to be with you."
"we could be happy. we could both find better people, i think, but if we got married, we could be happy."
"shelby? i don't want to be in this town anymore. i miss her."

god, the emotions you send me through. do you even know?

the last time i saw you

my touch said i miss you
in seven different ways
and all yours said was
now. i want you now.

North Shore

all film.

the hard part isn't necessarily getting wherever you're going, it's deciding where you even want to go.

film.

at the beach

a portrait

here, with books stacked bedside
light like honey on the south wall
my father's glasses are too big for me,
and too weak
ankles crossed, repose,
that contemplative look
i am all questions,
not to be mistaken with mystery
bitten lips, sleepy eyes, bruised thighs
i am missing someone i have never met
and homesick for a place
i've never seen
i hide my elbows and my hips
i dabble, i do not practice
i am anything but linear
pouring too much sugar in my tea
just to see it sparkle as it comes back up
rolled sleeves, usually
alone, mostly
but in september i burn, and i rise

she

cut, be quick,
to the silver stagnant in my veins
and breathe that warm storm back into me
i want to ebb, i want to gust,
dynamic like song

whatsup

hey sweetie.

more

i was really looking forward to this summer being my own.

photos from this shoot will slowly come trickling in

strange sudden changes

reilly is here.
i'm applying for jobs.
getting my license.
it's about time.

soul suckers

Did you believe it,
when they told you they discovered you?
And that everything is free,
as long as you do what they tell you to.
You think it's true?

But nothing could be farther from the truth,
my love.

Did you even listen,
When they told you to change your name?
And that nobody wants honesty when looking at a perfect frame
play the game.

Nothing could be further from the truth,
my love..
And nothing is more powerful that beauty in a wicked world.
Play it girl,
play it girl,
play it girl.

Does it make you feel good,
when they tell you what you want to hear?
And after they suck all your soul,
well that's when they'll disappear.
Disappear.
They disappear forever..

Like a prince in your little fairy tale.
And you will find,
one day you put you soul on sale..

Nothing could be further from the truth,
my love..
And nothing is more powerful than beauty in a wicked world.
Amos Lee

favorites from my disposable camera

i need to let loose for awhile. i get stuck in routines and right now i'm so unsatisfied with everything i do.

so i'm going to be a little more selfish with my art, which honestly has always been a little bit of a selfish thing. but i need to take it out of these public forums for a little while, away from judgement so it's free to be what it is. i want to pull these things in tighter so they mean more, then maybe i'll be willing to share it all again.

i would sleep in a tent in this wind and this rain and wake up hoping that i've been blown away

more

yesterday

june 1

what really makes me happy lately is getting rid of things
those "dreams" i had are mostly just wishes now
what i want most is just a place of my own

this is inappropriate for any eyes but yours.

i feel like i'm always looking at photographs. the ones i have thrown in boxes; the ones playing out before me-- scene, snap, scene, snap, scene, snap; the ones that i find, borrow, imprint with my own story; the ones on the insides of my eyes.

and when i see the perfect bare curve of hips, a brushing of lips, the blushing of bellies and the loosening of fists into hands reaching, pulling, resting, then all i want is you next to me, both of us naked and quivering but sure and warm and comforted. i want you to trace your fingers all down my side and i want to capture those lines around your eyes when you smile. i want to wake up holding your hand, again. and again and again.

what i plan to do stands before me just as unsure as i am. hip cocked, head tilted, arms crossed. eyes down, gently biting my thumb.

because what if you really like me? you don't know me that well, but maybe you want to the same way i wanted so badly to know you. what if you want to make it work, over that distance and that time and the lack of my kisses all down your bruised back? i would love to have someone and i would like to have you.

but there's this too: god, who the hell am i anymore? i need to get back to fiction, to family, to blending voices together. to working my fingers so hard that when they touch something soft- these sheets, your skin- there's heat and wind and that kind of comfort that you only know right when you fall asleep. this body has been used and loved and handled with an uneasy caution, pressed and folded and laid out again. and this intellect used to find ways to entertain itself; it glorified thought, bathed in rationality, relished in expression. i used to give something.

so i don't know if i'm in any position to love or be loved. i don't know what i can give and that wouldn't be fair.

my thoughts end here. i'll see you tomorrow.

i am not ready for a life beyond this life
so just wait
nestled in my core
preserved in the future
stay, till i have the strength to give

there's a lizard on my shoulder and he speaks idly: lovers are loving and young blood is coming, and what are you doing? you are nothing. and the lizard is wise and the lizard knows and i know because i know the places this lizard goes. while everyone out there is sinning and living i'm spinning and thinking about leaving this city.

but because i am nothing, like the lizard would say, i dig my roots down deep and doom myself to stay. and the lizard on my shoulder, he gnaws at my pain as i sing so softly just take me to spain.

film.

a few favorites:





diana mini, kodak 200

figured i should post these

i'm done writing everyday. but i'll write when writing is worth it.

forgive me, father, for i crave sin
like the womb craves children
and the waves crave wind
with nothing to fight
you've nothing to win

dear,

i miss the lines around your eyes and your nose even though you think it's too big and your laugh, your laugh, your laugh