Photographer / Writer / Musician / Cinematography
Distance does not explain it. Less than a month ago this city seemed hopeful. The reason why this is strange to write today is because America is a wonderful place to live.
I went to bed last night drunk on red wine. Reading Henry Miller’s “Aller Retour NY” with the intent of stealing his idea to infuse with mine.
And now, I am going to tell you a little more on my days and nights in the City of Brotherly Love. On how I walked down…
When Helena ever heard anyone, especially one of her nine family members, make a racist remark, her temper was quick to explode. She would correct the prejudice remark and then proceed to tell you about Agnes Jones Tucker.
From Northern Italy to Ellis Island, they stepped off the boat and signed the ledger announcing their intent to live in America. After signing their names, they moved over to next line for job employment.
Her problems were born long before any of us. Meet me on the other side when my times comes. Maybe then we can have that conversation, that we were never able to have.
Why would death not free me from you?
The ceiling fan did not move. The bird chirps were silent. Rain fell in rhythm with my breath. I awoke again as I always do with a hangover, even though I haven’t had a drink in three days.
“No matter how far you may dig into the the depths of your soul, eventually you will come out an asshole” -Norman Mailer. Great things come out of shit. Remember that. -Me
Another lost day lying in this bed again. I hear the rain and take comfort in the tempo. The fan spins above my head. My Shadow…