Thursday, April 14, 2016
I'm walking around with my blinds open
The Life of Death
Did this to me:
For thirty minutes.
I Am Love
Monday, April 4, 2016
This is my most recent self-portrait
March 2016. Dumbo, NYC.
I have rapid fire(ed) off blog posts. And like a pie chart, I know why.
Yet, like a spiral graph, I feel like I have landed here. And here is a spot that I've been (in a way) dreaming to get to.
And maybe not even that, yet: truly! But I am in a softer (like fucking feathers) spot: I feel like a marshmallow and a mountain all at once.
Fuck! I feel good!
Going on for a length that I am unaccustomed to. Rebounding with the elasticity of a rubber band.
Fuck! What's going on?
I took this photo a month ago. I finally felt like I no longer looked like a youth. There was a panic and calm [marshmallow/mountain] that blanketed me.
And maybe I am thinking about Justin's analogy of birth feeling like death too often, however (!) I am in a new place, rather, stepping.
Through a door.
I enjoy. Now.
Time is linear: a [cell phone] journal
Orlando, FL. 1989.
Galatians 3:27, 28
Super Bowl XLIX
Sip of Sunshine.
Dave Chappelle. Flynn Theater.