Sunday, September 12, 2010


There are cameras and lenses and film on my desk. I sit here a lot and wait. Wait for something to happen. Nothing happens here at this desk unless I make it happen. I can't go to the show next month. It represents a life I've already given up on years ago, and all I'm missing. The bad things I will miss outnumber the good things in that life, but that's only ever seen in hindsight. So they will play, and not think about me because that's what they do. A bridge must be built. I'm designing it in my head. Putting it on paper would constitute an act of a crazy person. Who plans out their life on paper? Okay, I bet more people than I realize. Maybe I should try it. The bridge connects lives. Connects worlds. People. It will keep me connected to the people from the world I unceremoniously leave behind. I try, and struggle with, keeping up with the ones from the last life, but for every success, there is a failure. My successes are often accidental; lives taking the same turn. I need to heal the broken lines of friendship before moving on again. These ruptures tend to multiply if left unattended. On my desk: three cameras, eight rolls of film (three unexposed), nail clipper, digital calculator watch, Sharpie, checkbook, electronic digital caliper, notes, SD memory card, USB drive, 10x loupe, 12 quarters, 22 keys, Logic Express 9, three empty pill bottles, napkins, paperclip, soft case containing one lens and one finder, two bandaids, 512k iPod shuffle version 1, CCFA newsletter, bills, lamp.


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