Perhaps because I’m lonely, and writing itself is another form of loneliness? Perhaps because words are innately selfish, and they want to be exposed although I don’t intend to? Perhaps because I could easily edit what the mouth couldn’t? Perhaps because writing is an open letter to a certain someone? A real and imaginary reader? Perhaps the heart, the mind couldn’t contain all the words inside, they need an outlet? Perhaps because words should be taken as they are, should not be taken as they are? Perhaps because words are deceitful, just like us? Perhaps because words are sincere, honest […]
After they told me the CT showed there was nothing wrong with my stomach but my heart was failing, I plunked one of those weird two-dollar tea balls I bought in Chinatown and it bobbed and bloomed like a sea monster and tasted like feet and I had at this huge chocolate bar I got at Trader Joe’s and didn’t answer the door even though I could see it was UPS with the horse medication and I thought of that picture Patti took of me in an oval frame. Sweat itself is odorless, composed of water, sodium chloride, potassium salts, […]
To clear out all misunderstandings, I don’t own a DSLR camera (but if you, yes, you, have a spare, you can donate it.) 😉 I’m currently aiming for Canon Powershot G12.It has the specs of a DSLR and the compactibility of a digicam. Samsung ES10 is the sole companion in random walkabouts. Recently, Pawlita, Canon 1100D, is now part of the wandering family.
A photograph is a moral decision taken in one eight of a second, or one sixteenth, or one one-hundred-and-twenty eight. Snap your fingers; a snapshot’s faster. Halfway between voyeur and witness, high artist and low scum. —Salman Rushdie, The Ground Beneath Her Feet