Sunday, April 4, 2010

Out of a Forest

Beautiful. Stop motion.


Why is there a secret allure to staying awake? I may have nothing to do, or thousands of undone things to do, but the moments of quite night alone in my apartment seem paramount to everything. Every minute past midnight is a contraband item. I know I shouldn't have it, but I take them all the same with my greedy hands and hoard them with every melodious tick. The longer I hold out for, the more contraband minutes I collect, the greater the struggle necessary to coax me into a release. It's time for bed, it's time to let go of today.

Saturday, April 3, 2010


Sometimes all you need is an empty space. The days pass, they always do, and if you don't take a moment to record a thought, impression, a story, a memory, a picture that stood out in some way, or anything at all that changes your perception of the world in even its most minuscule amounts, then what is the point of it all? I don't profess to break patterns. I am not one who writes for praise. I am just looking for that bit of space where I can be the philosopher, the scientist, the impressor, the magician, the weaver, the impressee, the author, the observer, the reader, the creator. In this bit of space, I record what my eyes see. They may not be your eyes, but they're all I have.