players only love you when they're playin'
last page: my thoughts always come out in bursts of fragments, like a thousand tiny needles sprayed onto my linoleum kitchen floor struggling to find magnetic north.
see 2 pages previous (date unknown): i find i am often concerned about the things i do not know. i feel badly for not knowing them and consequently feel overwhelmed at where to start absorbing. therefore, i find it helpful (starting now)((when?)) to closely observe what is actually in front of me. things i know by observance, which will lead to inference from there i may research and begin to know. After i know, i am able to write what I think about things because i will have enough foresight to be trusted. but i must first have more trust in myself.
next page: the sound of the janitor in my photo building is emptying the garbage cans; filling them with new bags- shaking them open. from a distance this sounds like a ballet dance in black and white with no actual sound. transmission of sound directly to image occurring somewhere in brain. it is elegant and flowing like a pirouette mid air that will never again touch the stage. like a caress, or opening bottle of soda; or like your love slowly approaching you in the grass.
intermission: a larger thought on film development
fixing by inspection:
fix, check, fix, check, fix, check... until fixed. some film cannot ever fully be ‘fixed’ this way, though. if there was an error in development it cannot be fixed during the fix period. see also: character flaws due to childhood tragedy and a young bob dylan’s voice.
present- not yet on paper- still never having been in love. most days feeling guilty about things i have done but more about things i have not done. frustration due to lack of communication with people near me and too much communication with people far away from orlando, fl that i wish resided in orlando, fl. (new and old friends) speaking to too many people who tell me they are depressed and stuck, knowing the feeling, but to what extent? not ever being able to fully empathize with someone no matter how open my mind and heart are- wanting to be better for them. i could slice my chest open and bash my head on the ground until my guts and brain are pouring onto aforementioned linoleum kitchen floor and still not know 100%. not like simply orange is 100% orange and so satisfying. wanting to make so many things: instructional guide to free/creative thinking, a flip book, short film using overhead projector, new black and white portfolio. but what do i spend my time doing? indulging in lust and people and new bikes and alcohol and never feeling rested and craving amphetamines for “focus”. i blaze through my day and at the end of the night i am sitting in a pile of all my clothes on my DARK bedroom floor, too tired to pick them up and make space to be productive in and nothing has been made and maybe some feelings have been hurt. feelings of contentment are always so intense and short lived, like i assume the high of smack is. someone needs to give me a little smack in the face sometimes.
see 2 pages previous (date unknown): i find i am often concerned about the things i do not know. i feel badly for not knowing them and consequently feel overwhelmed at where to start absorbing. therefore, i find it helpful (starting now)((when?)) to closely observe what is actually in front of me. things i know by observance, which will lead to inference from there i may research and begin to know. After i know, i am able to write what I think about things because i will have enough foresight to be trusted. but i must first have more trust in myself.
next page: the sound of the janitor in my photo building is emptying the garbage cans; filling them with new bags- shaking them open. from a distance this sounds like a ballet dance in black and white with no actual sound. transmission of sound directly to image occurring somewhere in brain. it is elegant and flowing like a pirouette mid air that will never again touch the stage. like a caress, or opening bottle of soda; or like your love slowly approaching you in the grass.
intermission: a larger thought on film development
fixing by inspection:
fix, check, fix, check, fix, check... until fixed. some film cannot ever fully be ‘fixed’ this way, though. if there was an error in development it cannot be fixed during the fix period. see also: character flaws due to childhood tragedy and a young bob dylan’s voice.
present- not yet on paper- still never having been in love. most days feeling guilty about things i have done but more about things i have not done. frustration due to lack of communication with people near me and too much communication with people far away from orlando, fl that i wish resided in orlando, fl. (new and old friends) speaking to too many people who tell me they are depressed and stuck, knowing the feeling, but to what extent? not ever being able to fully empathize with someone no matter how open my mind and heart are- wanting to be better for them. i could slice my chest open and bash my head on the ground until my guts and brain are pouring onto aforementioned linoleum kitchen floor and still not know 100%. not like simply orange is 100% orange and so satisfying. wanting to make so many things: instructional guide to free/creative thinking, a flip book, short film using overhead projector, new black and white portfolio. but what do i spend my time doing? indulging in lust and people and new bikes and alcohol and never feeling rested and craving amphetamines for “focus”. i blaze through my day and at the end of the night i am sitting in a pile of all my clothes on my DARK bedroom floor, too tired to pick them up and make space to be productive in and nothing has been made and maybe some feelings have been hurt. feelings of contentment are always so intense and short lived, like i assume the high of smack is. someone needs to give me a little smack in the face sometimes.