dirty belly of a secret town

"the cold of the desert.... you know, it's doesn't just necessarily only mean that it gets cold there. it means that... you know, that's what i chose."

i will stop wasting when you start abiding.

things are very blustery, very heavy to walk through each day, but there is a blanketing surrealism that is impossible to escape. it isn't really december yet, though we're already over a week into it. there are only spots of yesterday. i remember waking up a lot and using a lot of restraint to just roll over and go back to sleep.


there's a pull.

west. west west west.

There hasn't been a song that sends me into such a desire to leave in a good three or four years. Hearing this for the first 'real' time the other night was cathartic and... numbing? No, just awe-inspiring in the more filling your body up until you can't breathe something inenxplicable is going on. 'The Buzz' The undistinguishable thing in a song that attracts a listener to it.

summing it up.

i miss my film. and i got so many new cameras. thank you, bad luck in my honor.


eighteen balding star.






behind the fringe of a whiskey high


another heart exploding time. (i didn't realize what i just typed until i typed it, sigh)

we ain't even been to the ocean
we've been running barefoot through the stream


"the rainy days they ain't so bad when you're the king, the king they wanna see"

ps i didn't get to art basel, but miss stephanie rae did, go check out her fucking amazing photos. newwwww cammmeerraaa.