" contemplating in front of your computer can kill all your joys"

---

you're watching the light from the sun rake it's last outstretched fingers against the bricks of the buildings adjacent to the churchyard. their muted hues burst afire and become brilliant colors; bold and strident like a kick in the teeth.

looking down at your fingers as they type type type away, you wish that they were doing something more useful. something more meaningful, helpful, and worthy. instead they flutter about with the sounds of clickety-clackity all about. they seem so hollow, the palms shallow, and the wrists tightening up. your hands wish they had other hands to hold.

you're watching the final episode of the (british) office on hulu, and you have another small realization that you're lonely. you're very nice and giving, but you're lonely. if these people can find a small bit of happiness in a seemingly harrowing daily drudge, perhaps you can as well. or maybe you watch too much online videos.

you notice that the night has crept in like a bandit, and has replaced all of the light in the world with a darkening blue blanket. the green gaseous glow of the fluorescent light fixtures flicker and blink in the blackness, illuminating massive piles of dirty snow plowed and placed there earlier in the day.

---

fevrier 26:

fevrier 27:

fevrier 28:

---

" the blissful storm "

---

the arc of this storm was rain to sleet, to wet ice, to flurries, to snow, to ice, and now back to wet snowy ice.

the winds caused the branches to buckle and sway. the harder flecks of ice rampaged past the shifting barrier of my eyeglasses, and hurtled forward into the cold wet of my exposed eyes.

now i sit at home, safe and indoors, awaiting the radiator to clank and scuttle on, releasing me from this days frigid tidings.

tonight's homework:

teach this storm a lesson and enjoy a small delicious dish of an ice cream or sorbet of your choice.

---

fevrier 23:

fevrier 24:

fevrier 25:

---

" what do you love? "

---

if you are afraid to say it, or to lose it, you'll spend your time with us alone and wary.

if you cannot find the words, take a deep breath and have faith that what you'll say will be taken just as well as you gave cause to speak. people are generally welcome to the things you will have the opportunity to say if it comes from the heart.

if you always speak truths about your feelings, intentions, and what you want, odds are you might find yourself more believed, more trusted, and more happy. maybe it's not in the dreaming where we make our marks, but in the implementation.

the mumbled truth is oft misunderstood, but close proximity and whispers can cause even mountains to shift.

tonight's homework:

choose someone, a close friend, or a significant other. tell them one thing that you most definitely love about them, and one thing that you most definitely do not love about them. allow them to do the same to you, and discuss. afterwords, share a dessert of some sort and hold hands for a minute. you'd be surprised what a strange and fulfilling  day it'll turn out to be when you open up a little.

---

fevrier 20:

fevrier 21:

fevrier 22:

---

" there are no seatbelts in star trek "

---

ramble ramble. fridays are never wasted.

and how do we find the strength within ourselves to be true, honest, mighty, and confident?

bold strokes with a clarity of vision and purpose.

there's no seat belts on the enterprise. that's why everything is so dramatic in the intergalactic battle scenes.

you can never underestimate the brass section. it's lead you to the heroic acts leading way to the woodwinds.

---

fevrier 15:

fevrier 16:

fevrier 17:

fevrier 18:

fevrier 19:

---

" heart day "

---

kind heart, foolish heart, smart heart, heavy heart.

sweetheart, tart heart, warm heart, cold heart.

my heart, your heart, heartbeats, heartburn.

---

fevrier 02:

fevrier 03:

fevrier 04:

fevrier 05:

fevrier 06:

fevrier 07:

fevrier 08:

fevrier 09:

fevrier 10:

fevrier 11:

fevrier 12:

fevrier 13:

fevrier 14:

---

" of wrist, knee, and foot pain "

---

ouch winter, ouch.

helping a friend move in the wintertime. ouch wrist and un-gloved fingers left in the cold; exposed digits awaiting the warmth of a pocket or hand.

helping carry furnishings and boxes up the steps to the new spot. ouch knee, how you buckle under minimal weight; the cold icy touch of chilly gales seeps in through unseen entrances.

riding my bike home from not too far away. ouch foot, and the odd sensation of pain tingling within the tarsals and metatarsals curiously; with a charly horse in the calf withing sight, no distance between the start of that ride and home feels any more alleviating.

tonight's homework:

get a hot water bottle for your seat or back, and marinate at home or a friend's home while watching a guilty pleasure movie. it's cold outside.

---

janvier 28:

janvier 29:

janvier 30:

janvier 31:

fevrier 01:

---

" of salads and homework "

---

waking up in a haze of sleepyheadedness and one part curious knocking/hammering noises from outside the building. nothing really prepares you for an unsettling rousing.

got my pro account on flickr today after yeeeears of trying to select the best default 200 images available on the free account, and failing. hopefully i can get all the photos that i uploaded on FB on flickr now, where a lot more people could see them.

all of a sudden it was noon, and i settled my grumble-grumble of a stomach by making two tandem salads of butter leaf lettuce, red and yellow onions, smoked salmon, sun-dried tomatoes, a couple medium-softboiled eggs, and a balsamic vinaigrette with a little honey mustard innit.

after that, a flurry of homework, digital organization, lightroom catalog experiments, and research.

then i look out my window, and the sun has risen, peaked, and fallen. the last little hints of daylight scraping against the walls; leaning and disappearing like a drunk person falling asleep while standing, then giving in to the wonders of gravity.

as nighttime once again creeps up, the radiator spits and whistles, and i resolve to be a better photographer once again, even though i didn't shoot a frame today.

---

janvier 26:

















janvier 27:

---

" the storms of the banshees "

---

last night i had a long dream about this swap meet flea market sale that was taking place in a mansion in california. i remember that even though it was in an underground bunker basement-type place, it still felt immense and spacious, sort of like the snake pit scene in indiana jones; raiders of the lost ark, when he's trying to escape.

i remember a chocolate making machine, and how i dipped my thumb into a part of the machine where the chocolate was finished with all of the processing, and it was just mixing and churning in this small cauldron-shaped part, exposed and bubbling. i accidentally broke free a small domino-sized piece of ceramic material, and the owner of the machine/swap meet said that i owed him a million dollars cause i broke it, but i didn't and walked upstairs.

then i'm in the old albany pool building. it's dank and murky through the main offices, but i can see shafts of sunlight coming in through the tall mottled bottleglass thick windows of the mens changing room. through a small hole through the cashier's desk, i can see the gleaming blue-green waters of the pool sparkling and swaying.

and then i wake up, and i'm back here. back in the present with my body sore and the winds thrashing the windows and roof. is sounds like the storms of the banshees wailing and screeching above and all around me, and i'm not sure what i'm going to do at all today.

---

janvier 22:

janvier 23:

janvier 24:

janvier 25:

---

" going for a wander "

---

you're getting older now.

it takes more time to heal, and instead of having casual conversations with your body, you're beginning to really listen to it; your starting to hear it whisper and speak sentences.

your body always has something on its mind these days.

tonight's homework:

take a walk along a familiar path or route, then veer off to a (hopefully safe, be safe) side road, street or alley, and take the self-induced shortcut. this way through could actually end up much longer than expected, but i promise you, you'll see something that you've never seen before, and you'll forever be changed.

---

janvier 20:

janvier 21:

---

" the quiet times in between "

---

transitions are hard.

california to new york. warm temperate weather to cold. relatively allergenic state of being to sick sick sick...and then having to head to school.

it's been a rough coming back to the east coast from the west, but i have seen a light through the trees. there are many things to be done here. there's nothing like familiar faces in familiar places to comfort your doubts.

opportunities abound for work, ice cream adventures, city street meandering, public park appreciation, pastry store searching, et al.

it's been rough, these times in the in-between. the quiet times which allow us the pause to notice it all. and all of a sudden, i have a great desire to encounter it.

p.s. - i miss you california. stay awesome for me.

tonight's homework:

stay warm, find a friend, tuck in, watch a movie, flourish.

---

janvier 12:

janvier 13:

janvier 14:

janvier 15:

janvier 16:

janvier 17:

janvier 18:

janvier 19:

---

" the sun is setting in the atmosphere "

---

so here i am again. on a plane at 38,000 ft. free wi-fi is still rad.

the sun is setting behind me, and there are soft golden shafts of light dappling the rippled mountains below; their long elegant shadows dipping and swerving into the creases.

as always, the trip feels too short. time never ends up feeling like you think it will feel. i think other than the wonderful friends and new people i met, i'll miss the sir the most.

clean, fresh, beautiful, lovely air of northern california. the long draw into the lungs of the saltwater spray of the pacific ocean, a hint of port of oakland lingering, and the aftertaste of the nearby eucalyptus trees.

parents were rad. shooting a lot of awesome participants for my theis project was rad. the food was fresh and delicious. so many wondrous newly-made memories swimming and swirling inside of me, and so many things waiting for me in nyc upon arrival.

i leave my twenties behind, and head with a full force into the present. i hope that everyone has a hope that their dreams, whether old or new, will find it's place this year.

see you all when i land.

---

janvier 08:

 janvier 09:

janvier 10:

 
janvier 11:

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