diary 17 (november 13)

I had three shoots that had to do with music, I’m not sure about that or how it happened and I’m not sure if it’s where I want to go with my work but it’s what I’m working on. When I woke up early in the morning on the 12th it was snowing, the colors of the graffiti in my neighborhood look nice and bright against snow. I’ve never been conscious of being cut out of a life but I finally know it, it feels like a square and there’s a neat dashed line running from the top right to the bottom left corner of it. The cold seeped into the subway stations for a few days, but then left again and was replaced by little puddles in the yellow lines. Hope the cold makes it to my bed soon so that I feel less comfortable in doing nothing at all. I heard someone say “your mood ring is broken” to someone else, there are four staircases in my apartment. Spent  every free day I had in a cafe that has a nice empty courtyard and a long entrance. One morning with very grey light I was walking and listened to a line of lyrics and everything was very clear like the grey light all of a sudden “god makes problems just to see what you can stand before you do as the devil pleases: give up the thing you love”

diary 16 (october 13)

i mostly ignored the things i had to do this month, i keep ignoring people and places and thinking and the changes that happen or something. i talk to dozens or hundreds of people most days now. i take three olives out of my fourteen dollar salad four days a week. things have become very calculated i have to be here at this time, this is the time i will be home, this is when i will be finished with my photo work, pay this on this date take this out of this pocket. i shot in the suburbs and i made a studio in my cave of a living room. i made my shoelaces bright blue ribbon. this city has kind of fallen flat for me now that everything is perfectly in its place i’ve found a place for every moving part in my life and i always choose the quickest way from point a to b. have fallen asleep before 4 am maybe once or twice. got attached to the cotton hanging from my ceiling and the ballon that i wrote on and my blue sunlight lamp. my lungs are filled with eggs minus the shells. i went out or stayed in with people that i care about very often but i don’t remember or feel anything about those outings other than just knowing that they happened. i’ve been keeping tabs on certain interactions and thinking about them often, it’s funny how you forget tiny little infatuations can happen after not having any new ones for so long. anyway i only really want to curl up under my blankets.

diary 15 (september 13)

september i don't know about i didn't bring my camera around much and that's directly related to my memory. i spent entire afternoons laying in the grass around brooklyn, people always seemed to be staying with me. i went to museums alone and would walk around the quiet neighborhoods in manhattan staring into lobbies. i worked through so many nights that i drove myself to fainting from exhaustion one morning. i usually read quite a bit but i can't bring myself to open up a book right now. a kid pressing their hand up against the subway's closed door window as it's about to leave the station, a bunch of balloons caught on a streetlight, a huge scattered pile of sweetener packets on the sidewalk on sunday at dawn, an old lady quietly rearranging the flowers she bought in the takeaway paper on her doorstep of a busy street. developed a chronic cough where my lungs turned inside out, rain kept ruining all of my plans. every fourth person walking down bleecker street says hello to me. i kept getting messages from old and new and important and not-close friends that made me want to cry, more than usual. i wish that i could specify them so that i can read this back in a long time and remember them how sad and sweet they were but that's not how public blog posts work. a lot of people threw out mirrors this month.