Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Path entrance.

A coworker expressed a hope that the place we work will close down, because he hates what that place does to people. Hates how it makes him act. Makes him have to be an asshole to people. I understand completely. I won’t miss the job at all.
A friend went by a bar with her new “boyfriend”. (She hates that word.) Male regulars that know her from hanging out at the bar suddenly went from friendly to jealous-jerk mode. Guys, you need to get over this shit. Do you expect every girl you talk to in a bar to be a virgin? And more importantly, why would you want her to be? It’s the same woman you liked yesterday.
I am unhappy with the pictures I’ve been taking. My hit to miss ratio is getting worse, but I have noticed I also take a large number of pictures that could have been good if I actually paid attention to what I was doing.
I recommend the pecan pie at Acme.
I am failing in my promises to spend more time with the friends I don’t work with. Could be because I work all the time.
I think I will start acting like I don’t work there, and start treating my apartment like I have to get rid of shit because I have to move.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Arbus, etc.

There’s a dumpster outside my building. Among other things, it contains the bird coop that was on my roof. End of an era.

Last night was my first night off in a week and a half, and last for nine days. Made it to the Diane Arbus show at the met. It closes sunday. The flaws in her pictures echo the flaws in her subjects. It’s not enough to say she was lucky and just had interesting subjects. She clearly worked hard to find, connect with, and capture these subjects. I didn’t try to find a reason for the taking of her own life. And if she hadn’t, would this show be there? Took pictures finding my way out of the museum. Took pictures on my way to the 4. I need to work harder. I dug out my Mamiyaflex when I got home, and thought about using it, but her using one isn’t a good enough reason for me to.
I am learning to use my free time more wisely. I can work six nights a week and still accomplish something for myself, and for others.

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Nap. Dream.

We were lined up. Not so much against a wall, but as a wall. It was night. Junior high, but some kind of boarding school. We were sneaking out. Through the woods to a place where we bought cell phones. We went back and called Jed. I remember whispering a conversation with him about how I’d call him back when I was somewhere I could make some noise. It was hard because I haven’t talked to him in years. In a house. Being quiet not to get caught, though there were people around. I went out again, on my own, dressed up in a jacket and tie. I was only about thirteen years old. It was getting light, even though my new cell phone said it was just after 3am, and I was very aware that I could be seen, and tried not to run so I wouldn’t stand out. Passed by a small pond with a father and sons business getting the canoes ready for the days canoe rides. There was a band playing quietly by the pond as I nodded hello to the family of men tending to business there, and I could see and hear another band playing up another path. I couldn’t figure out how they could play different songs while being able to hear each other. Soon, I was inside, as if this whole walk had been inside. Everything was 50’s Rat Pack style surroundings. I saw a door for a lady’s room/dressing room, and looked for the male equivalent. For some reason, it felt like backstage in a television studio. Found the sign for the men’s dressing room over a stairway leading down. It was also a bar. Bunch of guys were seated around the entrance. One of them, familiar, a known character actor playing a roll in my dream, waved me through as I pretended to reach into my back pocket to get my ID. I knew I didn’t have any, and I was only thirteen, but the reaching and the jacket fooled him. It was all marble and stone and dark damp basement-like, and there was a sign about the wood sculptures around one corner being changed frequently. There was a crazy old man, and some sculptures that were optical illusions. They looked like they were moving as you walked past them, but it was just some kind of trick with perspective. I had to touch them. Sara appeared. She was dressed up too, but we were older now, and she started to tell me a story about how the crazy guy, who made these sculptures, just told her a story involving a plane trip, and I guy named Rinatto something. She couldn’t pronounce Rinatto’s last name very well, but I knew who she was talking about because he’s a friend of my mothers. Never got to call Jed back.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

People at clubs do drugs.

Yeah. No shit, right? So what do you do when you find a coworkers dope? Leave it? Do it? Flush it? I left it. It’s easier to figure out who’s it is that way. I’m pretty sure I know, and care more about what it’s doing to her friends than to her, but if it’s someone else, I’ll be very sad.
So what was I doing looking for this shit? Because I had to know. Suspicions aren’t enough for me. I need hard proof. It’s the one game I play. Unfortunately, I’m pretty good at it.

Sunday, May 22, 2005


Talking last night. Someone that had radiation poisoning twenty years ago from Chernobyl. She was in Europe when it went down. Ate contaminated food. Milk. Got sick. Vomiting blood. Her better than 20/20 vision was never the same. There were warnings in some countries about what food was good to eat, and what food was not. Most countries didn’t do anything. It happened to thousands. Many had no idea.

Saturday, May 21, 2005


I got a sheet of paper shoved under my door the other day. It said my building had been sold. It had an address and company name for me to send my rent to in the future. I thought about what a great scam this could be. Get into a building, slip a bunch of papers under peoples doors telling them to send you their rent....
I looked up the company. They exist. The next day, a guy from the management company came by, asked if I needed any repairs, a smoke detector, checked for leaks. I hid the syringes I use to refill ink cartridges. Hard to explain those to strangers.

Monday, May 16, 2005


Unrelated: Went to a beautiful wedding today. The kind that makes you think that maybe it is possible.

Friday, May 13, 2005


Thursday, May 12, 2005

Lost and found.

Can I tell you a secret? You’re going to be fine. We’ve all been where you are right now, and people like us make it out okay. I’ll give you space. Time to yourself. Just make sure you remember that I’m ready to listen when you’re ready to make a sound. I’m easy to find. I’ll make myself easy to find for you.

Tuesday, May 10, 2005