it's crazy how i have so many friends and am constantly going -- and yet i am so burnt out and foggy


an eye for an ear

or a while there i thought 
you’d remain the star of my dreams

i can still remember, 
with complete clarity, 
the way i felt
all i remember is how much fun i had
thank fucking god

i thought if i had wanted it enough, 
it would happen 

this time around, 
i’ll be less transparent
i promise to protect my heart
but i’m so grateful i’m still willing

where would we be if we couldn’t blog our thoughts 



1-Chevy Nomad toy car
2-Wooden Sculpture (head in ass)
3-Ceramic tit
4-Carl Aubock brass foot 
5-Robert Maxwell critter
6-Mold of hand
7-Ceramic failure (glazed)

1-Fisher Price kid tough
2-Yashica electro 35
3-Canon R800
4-Fujifilm x100F
5-Leica M6
6-Contax T

2-Grow with your plants
3-Who is sleeping on my pillow
4-Anatomy of contemporary furniture 
5-After dark 
6-LE GUN 1,2,3
7-The cooks’ catalog

i took half an edible and it got me thinking a lot about what my dad said this past weekend.  really bummed me out so i thought of what i could do to keep my mind occupied so i started taking photos of things around my apartment (all while rehearsing comebacks for everything he had said).  i wish i was better at standing up for myself.

fujifilm x100f w lee


he'd been away for so long, the amount of fear that came with his profession had been forgotten.  carry that weight on you long enough and you start to feel differently.

he'd gotten so comfortable being needed at home raising the boys, he can hardly recall what it felt like to be on the clock.  bracing, he would imagine.

but no one was ever excited to see him.  he quickly remembered the feeling.
there would always be a great deal of anxiety when he entered the room.  you can see it in their faces.  they knew what he had to say could be the end for any burgeoning business.  everyone wanted him to do his part and leave quickly.

every morning, after he dropped the kids off at school, there would be a stark change in his demeanor.  he spoke in a voice not of his own and they would do the same.

remorse for every failed health inspection, he started writing yelp reviews to redeem his faith.  this is where he felt fulfilled.

he loved it.  it wasn't a chore, it was an act of service; his most loved love language.

here, he would exercise his wit and everyone paid attention.

after a long day of seeing disappointed faces, he needed that release.  this feeling would exonerate any grief he had been harboring.

once home, he returned to himself.

his true self couldn't care less about hygiene.  their stove top was always greasy, floors never not sticky, cast iron skillet would never past inspection TBH.

here, the expiration date is just a suggestion.
patina bruv, heard of it?

everyone hates guy fieri but he brings light to small businesses.


my therapist asked me how I was feeling today
riddled with anxiety and crippling self doubt 

towards the end of our session,
she described me in two words;
impulsive and indulgent 

I then made an impulsive decision
to no longer indulge in her services 

coffee with company; change for strangers

by the time they met, he had given up any thought of romance

once an idealist; now carrying the weight of his past relationships like a talisman.  
an emotional burden that assured he would never feel dizzyingly emotional about her or the next, 
or the one after that

don’t let yourself be heard this time

he was withholding 
she couldn’t understand why

she had been so direct;
in her eyes, he was the window to the world

they thought doing acid together would break new ground and so it happened one perfect afternoon.

the weather was biblical;
the sky was hypnotic, 
the trees, pulsating 

we are all becoming gods