The universe gets tired too.

Saw him today

Today, on my way home, I noticed a man that I recognized. I was stopped at a light and he was crossing the street. I couldn't recall how I knew him. Seconds later it popped in my head, "I photographed him once." When I got home I searched through thousands of photos and finally came across this shot.

It was senior year of high school and I was stoked that my photo teacher let me borrow a telephoto lens of his. With the new lens I took a walk through the park and found this man with nervous shakes and trembling hands. Instinctively, I shot the scene.

When I saw him today crossing the street, he had the same olive green stained shirt and the same shopping cart. It has been 3 years since I've seen him. I wonder what his story is.

Basically...

...

I met the greatest poet of the modern age

And she doesn't need to speak a word.

She can't rhyme and she has little rhythm.

In fact, I think she has it down to a classy act,

The best poetry is sometimes silence.

If I see you again I hope I can read your body language.

Classic

It is definitely a classic scene. Grandparents sitting on the couch as their Grandson (me) takes a picture unannounced. I like that this shot catches my grandparents in their natural state. They aren't putting up a front. That is, they aren't smiling for the camera. Rather, they are relaxed and enjoying life as it moves on by.

The faded colors and the soft focus are all purposely done.

Rhyming

I float

on a boat

on top of a moat

where I strum my guitar's eight note

Where my vocals wail from my throat

and into a tote

where I place the songs I wrote

I devote

A heaving vote

Without much time to connote

The phrases that I denote

One more rhyme and my head will bloat

Like water boiling an oat.

Untitled

My sky is absent now.

There is nothing but you up there now.

And when it begins to rain your eyes wallow in sorrow.

Then it pours.

And just as I thought the world was over

Those raindrops fill the ocean shores.

And the sunshine is out and head over

If I could, I would wrap you in four giant leaves

And call you my four-leaf clover.

Because darling you are my luck.

But still, I feel I am gambling,

With every living thing

And when it comes time

I hope luck is on my side,

Because I don’t know if my ego can let it go

Because you set me ablaze

And I am merely a flame

on a match

Easily lit and easily patched.

BS

Fuck the rest before me and their crimes, for your love I'll serve their time

Smile Big

She inspires me. Enough said.

Bubble Man

Who am I? This is the big question.

Bubble man seems to know exactly who he is, but maybe he is just as confused as I am.

Take a Chance

The Rite of Spring was so obscure as a musical composition that the audience rioted in the streets of Paris. Now it is viewed as one of the most magnificent and influential pieces of music. People need to take chances in their art. Don't be afraid is what I am saying.

Thinking About Thinking

A thought is merely a thing.

So profound in its own way,

We give meaning to things

Or it can be said we give meaning to thoughts

Lifeless in its own way,

We cling to the meanings of things

And we try to let go

But the letting go,

It is another meaning and another attachment in itself.

Lets be humble.

Lets keep it simple.

Fashion Photography

Aestheticism is subjective.

What I consider beautiful others may not.

There is beauty all around us but many refuse to see it.

There is beauty in a molded face by a plastic surgeon

And there is beauty in the aged face of life.

There is beauty in our intellect

And there is beauty in our irrationality.

There is beauty in life,

And there is beauty in death.

It is up to us to find it.

For a moment I digress.

And forget about beauty and I focus my camera.

On a blistering cold evening I walk along the boulevard.

At the corner I see a woman, aged beyond her youthful aura.

Skin tanned as leather.

She blankets herself with a quilted fabric

That flows in the ocean breeze.

Near is a Dior advertisement telling me what beauty is.

But I refuse!

This homeless woman stands in front of me

Stares down the barrel of my lens

And I will tell you.

This person who is blistered, aged, and blanketed

Is beauty afar from our common consciousness.

People

In the city where I can walk freely and aimlessly in to what I call culture,

I find the most amazing people.

I find certain individuals who have the most amazing stories to tell.

Who explain their life as I sit with my mind open.

In a corner cafe' we all sip our caffeinated drinks.

We all set our eyes a gaze as the people go by.

And because of this, my interest in my self-identity grows.

I have been living for 20 years now and still have little clue as to who I am.

Maybe that’s just it; the not knowing is the knowing.

By negating my uncertainty I know who I am.

I am a positive charge in a negative world.

And as a burning bush put it once, “I am who I am.”

So now I ask you.

Can you pick yourself up by your own bootstraps?

It is all there.

But my identity is beside the point.

I am missing it.

And so is everyone else.

Lets take it back for a little and sit in silence.

Not because we are mourning,

But rather, we are waking up.

Silence is bliss and letting go is silence of the mind.

Therefore we must let go.

Lets all wake up and realize who we are.

We are all dependent on what we call each other.

Don't you see?

Try to draw the line where your self ends and the rest of the world begins.

It is an impossible line to draw.

With every breath you take, you are dependent on foliage to provide it for you.

Oh but that greenery also depends on soil and that soil depends on the nutrients.

And it all follows a certain cycle.

So what are your vital organs?

The lungs or the trees?

Maybe it's your brain, or better yet, it's your heart?

In the same way, because we are destroying our environment,

we are destroying ourselves.

So where does the violence begin?

It begins WITHIN.

It begins because we are all confused beings.

We are all blind to the important things.

We try to cling on to what we feel as real,

but when lose sight of what is really true.

And that is hard for me to say.

What is true?

But as I said before I am who I am.

And we are who we are.

Lets not miss the point this time.

Some say the point is love.

I have a hard time believing that.

I heard once that love isn't anything but a lost control.

And now I understand.

I lost my control.

And she just keeps on keeping on.

As if nothing even happened.

As if the love was never there.

I thought it was part of the eternal

and that love never faded.

I am a sucker and a fool for thinking that I found love.

I fooled myself into thinking that love was the point.

So what is the point?

I felt like this poem

of sloppily strung together words

would provide me my insight.

I was wrong. I have no idea

what the point is.

But yet I marvel about life,

my existence, my death,

my emotions, my thinking,

my failure, my success,

my truth, my deception,

my love, my hate,

my attachments, my detachments.

People, self-identity, love, dependency, violence.

This is being human.

I am who I am.

Yup

No, this trick won't work...How on earth are you ever going to explain in terms of chemistry and physics so important a biological phenomenon as first love? - Albert Einstein