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?

Saturday, March 4, 2017

my mother would have been 70 today

i think about her most days
that i could talk to her.
i'm not any more sad,
than i normally would be
on any given day
it just so happens that today
is my mother's birthday
and she's dead,
for almost 4 years now...

and i guess i'm a little more alone, because of that
in a room full of people
and in a world full of rooms
i am just a little bit more lonely
than i was
about 4 years a go.

maybe i didn't talk to my mother every day,
and i didn't need her for most things
but there's a quiet comfort in knowing
that someone is there, for you.
it's not like knowing your buddy has your back
or that your wife will nurse you along...
those are both important, but
something else entirely.
and i am slightly more indifferent now
for having endured it all
for having buried her
for having to watch her die
in pain.
the kind of pain that you can't help
or make better...

i'm a little less of me
because she's gone
so many stories
so much time spent between us________________gone,
with her leaving this earth.

i think about her most days;
she was a lovely woman
a good mother
a good friend
and i am decent man
because of her...

happy birthday mom, i love you.