no graves, just daisies

Thursday, May 29, 2008 | |




natick, massachusetts. 5/27/08





natick, massachusetts. 5/27/08
natick, massachusetts. 5/27/08, 5:00 pm.





a good friend of mine has a sign hanging on her wall that says "make new memories" written on the back of some old handbill. when i saw it, she got embarrassed-


as i packed my things away to go back to quietville for the slow yellow summer i put an old handbill on top of my bag of laundry. make new memories- it would be the first thing i opened, and it would halt my unpacking like molasses.






my belongings sit crushed in bags all over my brother's vacant silent room. i haven't needed a thing.
dust motes in sunbeams rotate softly over them every day.

and it's only may

Wednesday, May 28, 2008 | |

brush




early summer
mashpee, massachusetts. may 2008






every day i put my minutes in piles. the magic and perfect are growing, thank god.



but so are the piles that i put in my shoes, the ones that make me into a bigger, taller, better something. however uncomfortably.

water too cold to swim in

Monday, May 26, 2008 | |



waquoit bay
hidden access road, waquoit bay, massachusetts. 5/25/2008, 3:43 pm.




so sometimes when i throw my head back, it's like one part of my brain falls against another part, and for the tiniest, second-splitting moment it is as though i have the capability to reason out anything- and all of the strange parts about living and wondering suddenly fall to perfect clarity and reason, and my field of vision expands in all directions-

and for that tiny moment i reach perfect contentedness in everything, realizing something i'm sure that i need to realize, feeling gigantic and blanketing all questions and subjects with a "yes!"-

but it's almost as if it's badly spliced into the reels of the normal; that conclusion is cut off mid exclamation, without reaction, no effect, mid yell, half-word leaving my tired self crossing a crosswalk in manhattan or sitting limply in my car seat, burning in the sun.






when steven levy rediscovered albert einstein's brain, sleeping in pieces in mason jars,
when they put it all back together,
they realized he was missing an entire section, his parietal lobe filling in the cavern without hesitation and shooting shocks of mathematical brilliance everywhere- speech faltering, failing to asperger's.






so many of the people i'm close with have this too- that sudden knocking of brain-parts, that perfect communication, feeling in error, for an unintelligible second. i think that maybe it's ordinary, and that we're just putting in so much effort to find it-

and yet it comes up in odd places, odd days where i'll assume any thoughts will be buried under the damp haze of bad mood,
like yesterday, in the buzz of noontime cape cod, as without motion, my brain shocked and sparked me out of the hole i was in, and kept going, through the dinner at that badly lit new restaurant, through our wanderings into our friend's abandoned farm, past the frog that scared me into the oil black night field of uncut, gnarled christmas trees.

so,


THANK YOU CAPE COD, where the sky is ridiculous and blue and everything is made of only four colors, and the massachusetts that houses you.


and the good friends that massachusetts (and the world) houses.
(and the people who visited over 600 times in this photologue's first week alone, especially those who have given me feedback. thank you.)

sincerely.

friday night lamelight

Saturday, May 24, 2008 | |

upton, mass. 5/22/2008 4:15 pm
upton, massachusetts. 5/22/2008, 4:15 pm.





last night was alright. but wow, you're an asshole.

suprsuprdwndn

Friday, May 23, 2008 | |

renee







hannah
great lawn, central park. manhattan. may 2008




found a roll of mystery unprocessed film in my car today. brought it to the one hour photo, and they handed back a stack of prints, all double exposures, unintentional. heavy heavy photographs of a summer that is very far away. if only a year.
my solid happiness is clashing pretty bad with just about everything around me, and it's making a mess of my hometown. new york please.
massachusetts is giving me a leadfoot and a heart murmur.


maybe as it should, actually.

alright

the fun

Thursday, May 22, 2008 | |

the fun





no fun
williamsburg, brooklyn. april 2008






things are getting major. as in, major key.

darkroom reclusiveness mostly

Wednesday, May 21, 2008 | |

dan


before the pier
greenpoint, as always, april 2008


made it into my old high school's darkroom today. in a room that seems so friendly and unintimidating now - especially compared to what i've been working with this past year - i started thinking about all those study halls i spent silently clicking that expose key, hanging my face over the image examining the grain. awkwardly and inappropriately 14.
and i think to myself, yes.

i was so much more disciplined then. always been a downward curve, though-
and it seems that new york made me forget the powers of a peaceful darkroom. so maybe i can steal some good days before the building closes its doors for the season and my ideas of the self-improvement summer fade into books and big dinners and slow parties.

i think this is the last vacation before i'm supposed to become a real person.

NO EXIT

Tuesday, May 20, 2008 | |

NO EXIT
greenpoint, brooklyn, april 2008

my car lit on fire today. smoking from the steering wheel column.

coney island, 4/?/2008

| |

allison

when we went to coney island, getting off the train was like stepping into fall; the weather there is a total mystery, no matter what. it's just an anonymous corner of brooklyn to any and all weather stations.
the temperatures we found recorded were of prospect park, so deep within, slowly cooking itself in the sun.

amber

| |

amber
greenpoint, bklyn. april, evening

i take a lot of pictures with the confidence that i will remember peoples' faces forever (but i will)

greenpoint, brooklyn. 4:15 pm 5/7/08

Sunday, May 18, 2008 | |

greenpoint, brooklyn, 4:15 pm


"and eventually you'll have to return to pride rock. to become king. trust me-"
"i don't want to"
"well, we can do it this way. i say it's going to be okay."
"..."
"how many times have i told you things will be okay, and they turn out okay, and then you have to admit it was okay- by the way, sutter says hi."

"hey."





real but not live




implicated