diary 32 (march 15)

Last month I lost all of the photos that I took and didn't feel close enough to anyone at the time to really want to photograph them or something or anything, February is always a bad month anyway. I read the temperature of my room displayed on my space heater 42, 44, 49. This month I moved to Oregon on the other side of the country for a while. Shifted back to all of my belongings being full suitcases, traded winter for blooming trees. Listened to rain tapping my plastic hood and frogs in the quarry next to the house at night. I lay in bed with nothing much to do and look at the distilled water jar on the windowsill for the plants and linoleum floor. I feel very calm and empty-minded which is nice for now. Every beautiful place I went to I enjoyed very much but it was kinda like that quote 'he was pointing at the moon but i was looking at his hand', haha. The morning is all red light.

unvandalized

Girls becoming graffiti, shot in Brooklyn for Syn magazine

Hair and Makeup by Caroline Baribeau 

Styling by Mimi Kim

Models are Kseniya, Maryse, and Jessica at Re:Direct

diary 31 (january 15)

Didn't see daylight very much this month, kept to myself and tried not to be so worn out and down. Started crying for some reason as the man operating the train leans his head out as I'm standing outside the closed door and says four minutes. Waited patiently for it to be too cold to take walks and the sidewalk corners to become slush against the curbs. Brendon visited for a little while and it felt very nice. Kept having fever dreams where i'm telling people in my life inconsequential things etc and I have trouble figuring out if they actually happened. I don't remember but I feel alright.

diary 30 (december 14)

come home in the middle of the night alone and feel completely different now. a broken window in a boxing studio above the prada store on broadway and prince, read that one train line was flooded with 27 million gallons of water two winters ago, do the chalked math written on platform columns- 166+40, 166+30, 166+25, a ballon crawling up the underlit outer wall of a church, a man stealing a bike being pushed off of it and his screaming face covered in blood. feel heavy hearted when i'm with people, feel heavy hearted when i'm alone. modeled for a painter that's lived in the chelsea hotel for forty years, exchanged gifts with my roommates and friends and felt very warm about everything.

diary 29 (november 14)

I lost all of the things that I wrote this month which is fine because I guess I didn't take any photographs really either. Was mostly busy with real life and sad things rather than making things though I wish they were more connected maybe I'd rather keep the real world out of it for a while. The last time I remember crying myself to sleep was over a decade ago when I first tried to wrap my head around death, and this time I guess it was the opposite and the same thing at once.