you're out there somewhere and i can't find you. you sleep in a warm bed, drink warm tea and cuddle with some warm pet.

i sit outside in the cold, trying to see in the dark. where are you where did you go? you're on my mind tonight as the darkness consumes my light.

jHo

i was desperate to have a little sex involved in a bachelor party. I mean who goes to a bachelor party without there being some sort of slinky slink. So, knowing that the groom had committed himself to a vow of abstinence (no naked women) I decided to take matters into my own hands and deliver one sweet luv.

I parused the porno shop with my girlfriend, who was leary about even stepping through the door. I told her what i had in mind and proceeded to comb the aisles looking for the PP.

After miles of dongs and creams and plugs I finally found the PP, but wasn't very impressed. it definitely had no sex appeal at all. So i parused some more.

Finally after much discussion, my woman really like the jHo box. It did after all say that it had 3 ports of passion.

i awake in my underwear to some fat guy looking over me, whispering loudly "jonny!? jonny!" my eyes glaze over and I yawn.... what?

let's go get a beer.

I rise and shine, pull some pants on and walk into a drizzly monday night.

ready for bed now— 5 pints empty, 4 hours past.

and it all seems like the dream I awoke from, only moments ago, dreaming of a girl 20 years gone.

a month has been swallowed, barely chewed. days move backwards, behind. the evenings grow shorter and the ache for a past throbs. Fall—descends aloof to the wings of Icarus. and yet somehow i survive another season. withdrawing into myself as the coldspell pushes forward. i am with someone, yet feel so alone. I am alone with myself and feel most comfortable. I have nothing but few words. and on days like these, they sit loaded, waiting to be dropped.

i sat in the pub, drinking an IPA. she came up behind me, kissed my head and sat down. we said a few words. she started to tear. stress, she said. the home, the lack of money—the lack of her period. you know, regular things. i sipped my beer, she cried some more. i tried to console her. she wanted to leave. i had a half a pint of beer left. i chugged, paid and walked with her to the car.

she loved me and i didn't know what to say.

we lost one of the greats, even if he did decide to go elsewhere. he will be remembered for his contribution. for his sense of definite purpose, uncompromisingly so. his steadfast philosophy, which gathered years of followers together. yes, today is a sad day for remembering such a man whose work reflected a huge chunk of mankind and world history. a man whose 'decisive moment' took the chaos of life and made it all so clear.
henri cartier-bresson, ninety5—august, 2004

what is the plan? where am i going with all this? what is the end result? what will I become?

these questions riddle my mind, half-ass answers sit in the tub. what?? what the hell do you want from me? i'm just here biding time, trying not to starve, trying to smile while the rest of the world and my country plan for someone else's demise. or is it my own? i light a candle— leaning over the edge of my bed.

i sit on my ass all day and don't really try to look busy. i play with iTunes, check my email, read the news, dream... dream, dream. when i get home a few minutes after five, i'm wiped out. done. ready for bed. i take my shoes off. peel my socks and take a good whiff. curl my sticky toes into the hardwood floor, then flop on to the bed. the next thing i know— the day, the evening and any semblance of the night are gone. i close my eyes, babble the same things to god under my breath—fading into my secret spot, quietly resting to begin again.

people stop and stare at me. at stop signs, they smile— give me thumbs up. when i walk by, pushing my bike along side of me: cool, that's a great idea, brilliant man, brilliant, wow, that's so neat.

i smile and keep moving forward. i know its a good idea or i wouldn't be doing it. and so i push forward pedaling along with a camera mounted on my handle-bars, and shoot the world, with my trigger finger.

A laugh with a shrill no one wanted to hear—silenced. mornings of indimidation—gone. new hope found in your departure brought the biggest smiles one company has seen in a long time. it amazes me that it took so long. and that it even happened at all. you won't be missed. you have no allies. no friends. you are— what i will never become. never look this way again, there is no consoling smile. only a proud contempt for your kind.

it started with a chip. a little nibble. then an overwhelming desire to devour. within 22 minutes, one bag of doritos cool ranch tortilla chips, succumbed to my moaning belly. 30 minutes later, my moaning belly buckled up and left me rolling on the floor. now here 7 hours later i feel wind break under the seat of my shorts. it looks likes it going to be one of those hot and sweaty nights.

i wish you could smell my feet right now. this slow march of death, the mallet toe, my dryrot love for you. we're done. and that's all that hammers in my mind. the finality of us. but i've known that for quite some time. so tonight, i forget and live and love again.

once again, i let go. effortlessly. with few words exchanged. it was #2, for both of us. her second time accepting, my second time declining. it was our pattern, it was the space in-between, sort of a breath apart.

this is fiction. all the dates are wrong. what if your life was actually postdated? by say 10 days, and you were totally unaware of this, until one groggy morning. would there be anything different with how the rest of your life would play out?? hell i'm just waking up, maybe this is a sad dream, waking into a sad reality.

hot. record breaking heat for this neck of the woods. i'm limp, like a soggy potato chip. i wobble around in my sticky rayon boxers, with a wet towel wrapped around my head. i puddle a little, everywhere i stand or sit still. so here i wade, slowly drowning, from neither the puddle, nor the heat.

there is a clock next to my head where i lay down for the day. it ticks, then talks, without ever saying much. i listen and watch the nights go by. the conversation is always the same.

the dull night, always collapsing in on itself, farts me into the air of another hazy morning. the day begins a struggle, and by noon time the battle succumbs. another day gone, lost to the boss.

at night, as things fall away from what could be a productive day, the hunger sets in, leaving me to weak to move while the darkness rolls onto my chest, then ticks, talks.

sometimes it's about playing ketchup... bleed a little, fake blood or maybe a self inflicted wound for dramatic purposes but the end result is the same, a time of reflection. a gaze across a shelled street, knowledge that, yes, things have been destroyed but out the rubble, new life awaits.

twenty. the big ones. twenty years from now this project will be complete. 56. the year 2024. its a long way off. but already i've got twenty under the belt.
on a side note, this was wierd. the camera focal plane was 36 inches from my eye. wierd huh.

i've been working on this new project 6x6 for a month now. only a few rolls into it, but moving forward. it feels great to finally be working on a new project. even better, one of three projects. for those of you who don't know, i am a photographer and have been making photographs for almost 20 years. this is my life— my end all. and this is how i do it.

i've had no energy today. from the moment i forced myself out of bed, until the moment my head hits the pillow, this day has been a drowsy drain. i feel weak and worthless. another cup of breaths, dissipated. the only clear focus, sleepytime. i cool down the noodle, rake the feet of dirt and collapse into another night gone.

these few beginning entries are nothing more than an exercise in discipline. making the time to refine, reflect and compose. sometimes years will go by with the blink of an eye. cliche yes, but nonetheless true.

take some time.

i wonder how many other people sit, waiting... wondering what comes next? how many hours are wasted on the corporate clock of inefficency? sometimes i wonder if i should just become a corporation? incorporate myself and become one of those legal entities, where myself the "company" is responisble for my actions or lack thereof and not me the person. i'm just the chair. rocking back and forth.... you want action? talk to the janitor. he'll clean up the mess, cheap.

aahhhhh, my eyes kill. it's amazing how much time can be swallowed in one sitting. if you stare at this screen long enough, will your eyes bleed? mine have gone into convulsions and hit the floor. i am out of shape, out of touch and am wondering what the hell i am doing here, yet again, years later?

first frame

i can't remember if this is loaded right? it has been so long. my eyes need to adjust to light. i've been working in the dark for way too long.