village to east village

MA and NY, june 2008.






"this place is so loud for being so still"
hanger bar, 4/--/08

warrior of the law

allie's house, june 2008, late late night.


these last few months i've been toying with the idea of transferring out, going to pre-law, going pre-med. infinite voices of influential adults have been telling me i can just write on the side, take photos as a hobby- and as i began to believe them my tiny future-snapshot of myself gained a women's power suit and faux leather heels, probably a silver car. and a tiny nikon F tucked in the glove compartment (if they even make film anymore)

and yet it's been even longer since i wrote or posted photographs since the last; my job has been meandering into full time, and what isn't taken up by full time (which, by definition, isn't much) is taken up by catharsis in the basements and forests of my town and friends.
what's left is a mind that keeps staying up for more than 24 hours at a time, one that has an awful lot of notes lying next to a bed that made sense in half sleep but are of no use to anyone anymore.


today is my last day at work. i'm quitting, and they've bought me a cake, and they think i don't know. and i never thought i'd start missing a job like that. but these last few days have been awful nice, in the true sense of the phrase.



expect more from me, because i do. though this new revelation that work might kill what little hobbies i have floating on the side scares both me and the power suit away. looks as though i'm destined again to the pipe-dream of my former aspirations, even with the big black clouds of knowledge and realism gaining speed.




delusions of grandeur require a certain amount of staying in front of the storm.

our gang decided we needed an easy exit

ithaca farmer's market, ithaca NY, 6/2008

far too long

franklin plaza, massachusetts. june 2008, 3:00 pm.



summer has been a lot of work and play, and i'm so sorry i haven't written or posted, so please come back, it won't happen again. seriously.

i finally have two weeks away from distraction in this little fishing house i've gotten to know so well over the last ten years. a heron just flew from the creek i can see from my window and i'm sunburnt and it's ten am and the heavy morning fog is just being burned off.

and it's so far from my job and my studies and my life that i can choose to care about it or not, and see it from way over here, miniature and easy. i guess that's the true function of a vacation. not to forget, but just to separate, and push all the war-pieces around on the war-board, carefree planning of the serious in the luxury of the round room, my arena these few square miles of sand and scrubby pine and mud and everything i love floating in the ocean. what a war-room. and the sun is out and the fog burned off and i'm gone to think about nothing i used to, everything i should.