Live, fight, and fuck like an animal. Others will watch in disgust and envy. Convinced they are anything but, and that is where they are wrong. Embrace the dark rituals of the soul.
She has me on my knees like an animal. I’m her master, and she is my queen. Like two dogs rolling in the dirt, clawing, and flashing their teeth. // If you see us together, stay out of the way.
It was my birthday yesterday. It was a day yesterday. To celebrate being alive as though the rest of our days we are dead. Reserving more alcohol, special sex, special activities, and all the things we really enjoy doing for this day. We should live everyday like it’s our birthday. Life is not a series of days, it is a singular moment divided only by the fluctuations of awareness in our conscious mind.
My addiction to the internet might be the hardest to break. I don’t have internet anymore and don’t plan on getting it again, or for a while. I sold the tv, PlayStation, and computer is shot. But I find myself sneaking onto WiFi hotspots on days I’m not working, sometimes late at night before bed, and last night at the bar I was skimming Instagram posts instead of interacting with people. // I don’t get the same reward anymore from digital interactions. They don’t make me feel like I’m actually socializing. I’m far more interested in real interactions and experiences. I’ve become disillusioned through the behavior of others. I don’t understand how some people are capable of replying within a reasonable amount of time, scheduling plans, or if they’re not interested in hanging out they have the common courtesy to say so... while other people say they want to hang out and then never reply, shift goalposts, or worse, make plans and don’t show up. It’s disrespectful as fuck. // Social media has amplified this behavior because everything is cheap and transactional and meaningless. Lately I’ve met some interesting people who work hard and value time(some who don’t even have social media), and I’m going to continue to pursuit friendships with those types of people. Fuck using social media as a platform for meaningful interactions and more importantly fuck having any expectations of mutual respect in this digital wasteland. // Am I the poster child for follow through? Hell no. But that was then and this is now. Call it hypocrisy, call it karma, call it whatever. // If you want to convince me otherwise you can text me, call me, find me at the dog park, walking my dog, shooting photos, the zoo, the woods, the bar on rare occasions, yell at me when I drive by in my van, stop by my work. I don’t really care, just anywhere but here.
I will force this until the pupils dilate and the pulse heightens. When it’s beating in rhythm with the space we’re in. This moment and these words. Word for word. Picture for picture. Where’s the control? I think it’s mine. // At least until I jerk you off.
I’ve been in this apartment for a couple years and I’m about to pack up and move into a new place. Things are evolving and changing, as life goes, and right now for the better. Forever thanks to those who supported not only my work but my life, especially during some dark times mentally dealing with serious mania, depression, and anxiety that I wasn’t resolving or seeking help for and ultimately you gave me a place to crash and feel safe while I sorted that mess out. This wasn’t a perfect apartment by any means but it served its purpose and helped me gather myself. There is no comparison to where I was mentally two and a half years ago. That’s when I started really addressing the depression that was keeping me from functioning and it allowed me to get the basic aspects of my life together again.
But the panic attack I had last month really put a spotlight on the anxiety I deal with and I sought help for resolving that. For the first time in maybe ever or at least since pre teen years, I truly feel in control of my creative intent, my romantic life, my work life, my goals. I’m not worried if people want to be a part of it or not. I don’t feel like a victim reacting to everything that happens. It’s a great feeling. It’s so fucking cheese dick but it’s like a fog has lifted. I don’t feel like a different person. I feel like me.
It’s hard to explain but those who have gone through it know what I’m talking about. It’s probably self evident from the posts I’ve been making lately. It’s kind of wild right now and scattered. It will be for a while. I’m overwhelmed with a lot of things I haven’t felt or done in a long time, and as I continue through this and get a more refined grip on what’s happening, gather my emotions, and the blocked memories stop flooding... the goal is to arrive at a dialed in and elevated state of mind.
UPDATE: I didn’t move, my van broke.
Across the street a couple girls in a white Jeep had pulled up to a pump at the gas station. The passenger went inside and the driver opened her door. She didn’t get out, instead she leaned back and put her legs out, resting her feet on the open door. I couldn’t see her face and I couldn’t see her shorts. Just perfect porcelain legs at the dirtiest of dirty gas stations. I wanted that photo and I talked myself out of taking it. It was perfect and probably would have been one of the best photos I’ve ever taken because something natural like that can never really be replicated. But what if she gets upset? Maybe I should ask her, no that would ruin it. What if the high school kids hanging out start giving me shit about being creepy or something? All these bullshit worst case scenarios and even if they did happen who cares? She would have loved the photo. And those kids can fuck off. I missed it. That was two nights ago and it’s still bothering me and I’m going to let it bother me until my photographic instincts kick in again and I follow through on it. // The cross walk by the kids had a cobweb going from the pole to the light. Which didn’t turn out in this Polaroid. I forced myself to walk out with them all staring at me and take this photo and they didn’t say shit because I was following what I believed to be right,... I must listen to my instincts. To be fair, I’ve been listening to my instincts more and more and I’ve missed photos like this before but I let it go or rationalized not taking the chance. The fact that I’m really noticing what a missed opportunity it was is a positive sign that I’m becoming a more aware individual of the space I’m in and how I’m interacting with the space. Acting on it simply comes down to not caring what other people think. I know better.
The dog park is a strange place. There’s regulars and weekenders and people who engage their dog and others who probably should have bought a cat. I’ve become more social over this summer, for a variety of reasons, and it’s really interesting how energy plays off energy. When I didn’t want to talk to people or go out, no one would talk to me. Because I didn’t want to. When that started changing, I didn’t really start talking to people more, they just felt comfortable talking to me. We all judge people, it’s nature, it’s how we fucking exist without having to learn the life story of every person we meet but just that little bit of interaction gives me a much better sense of who someone is at their core and it’s a lot easier to navigate who to focus on and who to let go. I’m not so inept that I never learned how to talk to people it’s more of wanting to talk to people, dropping my anxiety for a brief moment to learn something about them. In that sense the dog park is a great place for these brief conversations where I can really probe and learn and categorize these flags and instincts for later recall and for those strong connections to meet up again. It’s also good for my dog. And stay away from Tinder.
I found this place tonight and I thought you might like it. It’s on the path just South of Leavenworth. Where those kids snowboard in the winter. There’s a spot up the hill we would’ve sat. Where no cars could see us and the sound of our voices would fade into the trees. We’d probably leave a pile of cigarettes but I don’t know if you still smoke. I want to be into you. I’ve been on the edge of being into you. I can’t. I’ve been down that road too many times. I know I’ll want more. I know because I still remember the first time we talked like it was last night. It haunts me. And whatever short lived transient fantasy you’re after will consume and destroy me. //// So when I say leave me alone, leave my heart alone, and in that sense I do mean me. It could be short and hot and superficial as if we’re good for nothing more. Even the rhythm of our disconnect is pulling at me. Where nothing is ruined, every thought is perfect, and I only feel regret. I can’t live that way, not these days. And if you think this is about you then it probably is but I’m not about to ruin a perfect thought.
Divine Hunters (2018)
April 5th, 2019 Petshop Gallery Omaha, Nebraska
A series of photographs burned through a controlled process.