Tuesday, June 6, 2017

i've been pretty busy

still shooting pretty regular
and messing around with a little film too...
i am also pretty depressed, as usual

the depression usually has some words that follow,
but for the moment
i'm too busy trying to get ahead in life.

once i get a couple more bills paid
i'll stop
and pontificate,
about my life
my sadness

and whatnot...

Tuesday, May 30, 2017

when i was a boy

my mother would go over to my uncle frank's house
and help with things
sometimes i would tag along...

my uncle frank always had on his old green shop shirt
sitting at the kitchen table
half the man he once was-

i used to sit at the table
and talk to my uncle frank
mostly, i would listen
as he told me stories about my dad
his blue ford pick up
and that old fishing boat he used to have...

he would ask me how my father was doing

my dad was dead though.

had been for at least 6 years
but i liked hearing stories about him,
my father.
i never knew my dad
have no memories of him
he left when i was 2.
died when i was 5.
and all i ever heard
was that he was "a fucking drunk"
and i'm sure he was,
but my uncle frank seemed to like him
and i liked hearing his stories about him-
my dad,
"the fucking drunk".

now i don't know if anything that my uncle frank told me, about my father, was true?
because of the dementia
but i enjoyed hearing it anyway
i would answer his questions
with a simple "yes"
or a "i don't know"
and he would go on and on...

my mother would finish up
and we would leave
this went on for a few years
and then my uncle frank died...

i don't know too much about him,
my uncle frank
i don't remember what he did for work
and why he had a green shop shirt
with his name on it.

i don't really remember the stories that he told me,
about my dad anymore
but those stories
whether fancied or real
helped shape an alternate, and important image
of my father
something, besides me hearing that he was a drunk.
which i'm quite certain that he was...

i do remember going to my uncle frank's funeral.
i remember seeing him
in the coffin.
it was the 1st time i ever saw my uncle frank
in anything besides his green shop shirt...
i wasn't sad, but
i preferred him the old way;
at his kitchen table
in his green shop shirt
telling me stories about my father
and smiling
flicking his ashes
as the hours went by-
my mother cleaning...

i like to remember him that way,
uncle Frank...

Wednesday, May 10, 2017

the fisher building

not abandoned.

i've always wanted to take this photograph
so i did, the other day.
i've tried a few times before in the past, but
the security guards were never very welcoming or polite.
even when asking permission, their response was always, "no".
which doesn't make any sense to me...
i don't own a skyscraper in detroit
nor do i work security at a skyscraper in detroit,
so maybe i just don't understand the ramifications
of letting someone photograph a building lobby...

this was on a sunday
and while i'm glad to see detroit is on the upswing,
signs of life are still hit and miss.
the cafe inside of the fisher building wasn't open
and i really wanted a coffee
and it seems like a cafe inside of a building like this
should be open
rain or shine...?

once again
i don't own a cafe
nor do i work at a cafe
so maybe i just don't understand?

or maybe the owners of the cafe
and the owners of the skyscraper
and the security guards of the skyscraper
don't understand?
maybe they don't understand me
or my needs?
there are many
and they are deep
and troublesome
and they worry me...

maybe if the cafe was open
i could grab a coffee
and tell the person working the counter
about my troubles
my worries
my concerns?
and maybe the person working behind the counter
at the cafe
would tell me to go fuck myself?
that i don't understand problems
or what it means to struggle
and then i could remind them not to judge someone
by how expensive their camera is
i could tell them, and maybe those fucking security guards
that i know what it's like to hurt
to feel alone
too feel like the walls are caving in around me
at all times
and it's hard to breathe
even with all the windows open
and the front door open
it's hard to breathe
it's hard to let the light in
it's hard to let the air blow through me
when most days it doesn't seems like there's enough of me left
to withstand the slightest breeze
not even a familiar breath...

all i wanted to do was take a picture of a lobby
inside of a building
and post the picture on the internet
for 8 people to look at,
and then those 8 people can click away
and look at new shoes on zappos
or wherever the fuck people buy shoes now.
i don't know
i've bought from them before;
they have good prices
and fast shipping.
they're not as great as they used to be, before amazon bought them
but that's how the world works;
cafes are closed on sunday
and security guards tell you to get fucked...
and then you get in your car
headed towards home
and you consider doing 95mph
straight for the lobby
and maybe the news will show up
and photograph you
and your car
inside of the lobby
and the security guards can tell them not to take a photograph
inside of the lobby
and i'll be sure and wear some new shoes that i bought online
so i can look good for the camera
when they haul me outta there
but i'll have to remember to bring my own fucking coffee
because the cafe is closed

on sunday.

Monday, May 1, 2017

may 1st

i don't have much top say...
pretty busy with work
and life
slightly depressed
and tired

Friday, April 28, 2017

i've been pretty busy

but i have been shooting
and i did manage to take a quick trip to see a friend
eat some good food
and photograph a few buildings.

this abandoned convent was the highlight of my trip...

Monday, March 20, 2017

when i was 8 years old

this girl named lori
showed me her panties
on the school bus.
i'll never forget those pink panties
and the site of her,
lifting up her dress
i was so excited my dick got hard,

at home
i sat on my steps
thinking, about lori's pink panties...
my dick got hard
i'm sure that i had a hard on before this day
but this is the first time that i ever remember having a hard on.
i sat there for hours-
each time my hard on went away
i thought about lori and those pink panties...

the next school year
lori transferred somewhere else
and i didn't see her,
or her pink panties again.

a few years later
we were driving down fort st
in my mother's 1977 shitty sky blue nova,
the windows down,
my mother smoking a L&M.
i was sitting in the backseat
and then i saw her;
riding a bike,
she pointed at me
in the backseat, of my mother's 1977 shitty sky blue nova
and she laughed;
at the rust
the broken shocks,
the exhaust...

i guess she had never seen my mother's car?
i rode the bus to school when i last saw her
and those pink panties.
i tried to hide in the back seat
so she wouldn't see me
but it was no use.
my mother wasn't aware of any of this
i never said anything to her.
i just sat there
in the back seat
trying to hide
to not be seen,
maybe forgotten...

i never saw lori again after that day,
but i heard from a friend a few years a go
that she was fat
and had a couple of kids
by a couple different men.

i think about her sometimes;
her pink panties
and the way my dick got so hard
at the site of them.

i don't know where she is today
or what she's doing
and i guess i don't really care
if she's fat
or skinny
or how many kids she has.
i just hope that she can still make someone's dick just as hard
as mine used to get
all those years a go,
when she lifted up her dress
and showed me
her pink,

so wherever you are tonight, lori
maybe put on a pair?
for old times sake.

what do you say?