Saturday, April 28, 2007

Thursday, April 26, 2007


 Thank you God, for the resurgence in clothes making and design by just about every gal on the block. Designing clothes is responsible for bringing so much fun to people! Wow. I can count on my fingers as well as my friends' fingers all the clothing designers that are out there--and it still wouldn't be enough fingers. I just keeping running to girls wearing funky shirts and then asking my friends to hold their fingers up for counting. Thank you Women, for getting back into knitting and all that. Now if you could only do the same with cooking!

 Sadly, I'm almost completely unable to design clothes myself. It seems as though I've got nine thumbs and half a pinky finger when it comes to sewing. That doesn't stop me from pulling a bunch of fabric scraps out of a shoe box under my bed and laying them over my naked body. Just imagine what it might look like were I able to sew string or whatever it is through them into a snappy pattern. It's at that drunken moment that I can close my eyes and cry to the room, "I design clothes!" After that, I put the scraps back into their box and just cry to the room.

Monday, April 23, 2007

17 JUNE 2001

 "Take my photo." Steve sat on a bucket and rolled up his right sleeve. I was beginning to get used to the Polaroid. He lit a cigarette and put his arm up, flexing his small bicep like Charles Atlas. I loved his confidence. Not that I wasn't confident; neither of us gave a shit about what anyone else thought. But, I liked that I had a friend who was as equally attractive or unattractive as I.

 "No, wait," he said. He walked to the portable turntable we'd set up on the roof that morning. "Let me turn the record over." This particular record came out 13 years before I was born. My parents owned a copy but I'd never taken the time to listen to it until now. It was great. I snapped off a polaroid as Steve dropped the needle.


 "No, it'll be good. Sit down anyway." He sat down and rolled up his sleeve again. "This way you've been smoking the cigarette for a minute and it looks more legit." He grimaced and I took the photo.

 "Has it hit you yet?," he asked.

 And then it hit me.


Well, not famous exactly. My flickr account is watched by over 150 people. By today's standards, I may as well be famous. I'd love to share the address with you but the photos I've taken are of nude people. And if others were to find out that I photograph more others in the nude then the others might find out who the, uh, "more others" are and that would be trouble for both me and my subjects. Also, unlike other modern photographers and flickr enthusiasts, I certainly will not be taking photos of my "pals" in the pub, drinking Guinness and looking dopey. This is my artist manifesto!