i just took a shower

1) my laptop is down for an undetirmined amount of time
2) film processing is increadibly expensive
3) frebreeze is increasing the wearable time of my clothes
4) my hair is officially west coast long

Oct. 24-26 all photos

Thanks to Dina & Daniel, Ashley & Parker, and Louis.

Oct. 24-26

Self-censorship is the act of censoring or classifying one's own work (blog, book(s), film(s), or other means of expression), out of fear or deference to the sensibilities of others without an authority directly pressuring one to do so.

Oct. 24-26


At the Salvation Army.

Today at the salvation army I was in line behind a very pretty girl. When she was checking out she turned around and looked at me and she was gorgeous. It was one of those weird moments, we both looked down. I really wanted to talk to her but I have no desire to get involved with women(thats what I tell myself). She ended up pulling out of her parking space as I pulled out of mine. She stared at me or what felt like a stare as she passed. Times like this I want to know what someone else is thinking. Am I just a creep? Is she aware of anything that just occurred back there? I don't think I've been this single since I hit puberty. I want a wife (I think?) I know I want kids. Its just hard to imagine or justify it as a good idea right now. We'll see.

This is a photo I took at a wedding a couple years ago. This couple dated for ten years and had two kids before this wedding. This is one of their kids.

Their little girl.

The way things happened, and my recolection of it.

I just edited a previous post. I didn't like it, so I changed it. Is that dishonest?

I find that my memory is kind to me considering the things I've done and been through. In essence its the same thing as editing a journal entry or blog post that you grow to dislike. Often times I have total memory blackout of bad events. Occasionally I'll have absolutely no recollection of certain people that I meet on bad days.

Inversely, triggers as small as an exit on the interstate or a certain perfume can undo all of the work you've done to forget certain hells.

I consider this to be nothing less than beautiful. What a person chooses to remember, is unable to erase, or manages to forget has an enormous impact on his or her quality of life and the content of his or her character, and shapes his or her actions and general approach to living.

Screw memories. Keep the recollection strong.


I just wrote a very immature and dishonest post, you know, something that you can look at five years from now and not be embarrassed by. So, since I can't write honestly right now, I'll post some more photo's from North Bank Fred.

I'd rather be here

Montana Bull (with dentures), Whistle Britches, and Silver Miner Larry hold up a birthday card for No Nuts

than here.


Last night I had a dream that I went and got a tattoo of a shark. Starting on my left upper thigh and extending up my left side and ending on my face.

Life Metaphors: Episode 2

College: Like being in a shin kicking contest ... and winning.

A total documentation.

The photo's on my last post were taken by a man known as "North Bank Fred". He began documenting his life in the 70's. Self portraits, landscapes, macro, and character portraits. His goal is unclear, and his photo's aren't organized or selected for quality, sectioned sometimes in themes, sometimes in specific trips. Here is the link to North Bank Freds photos

Lets Go.

For months I've been preparing. I've been preparing physically and mentally. I've have all the right gear, I have knowledge of the inherent risks involved, and I've read comprehensive literature on the topic. But there is a major flaw in my preparation and it is this, for what I am preparing I cannot concretely define. The strength of my resolve is alarming, and my willingness to abandon all those that are close to me is like the strength of a soldier.

Life Metaphors: Episode 1

College: Like racing fifty other people down a wet grassy hill for a four pound wheel of cheese, then when you finish, being told you have to race all the other finishers back up that hill.

Soul patch.

I shaved.

Christmas 1991

Winter 1995

I have absolutely nothing to say.

I just wrote the most nothing that I've ever tapped out on a keyboard. So I replaced it with this, here.

Things I have been interested in the last two months.

- Gauges (Making and Collecting)
- Bicycles (Vintage is cheaper)
- Reading Books (Kerouac and Cassidy stuff)
- Trading on the Stock Market (DCGN, DNN, MPEL, DRYS)
- Attempting to trade FOREX (buying and selling foreign currencies)


- Attaining a Canon AE-1 Program
- Use my new Canon AE-1 Program
- Learn to Play Piano like this.

You know what?

There are so many complicated things I could say right now.

Much information on dreams last night.

The sky is gray. I was in a dark blue SUV, Cordero, my room mate was driving, Justin, my roommate last year was in the back. We approached a steep muddy embankment as we drove through a field. There was this white guy, pale, malnourished, wearing a dirty white T and black pants with an over sized torn black jacket. Standing halfway up the embankment with his hand in his jacket as if he had a gun. He appeared from nowhere and stared right at us, Cordero swerved and told Justin to jump out and get him to move. Justin sprinted towards him screaming obscenities and the guy didn't move and Justin ran off to the side saying that the gun is fake. I made eye contact with the man. Suddenly he rushed toward the car with in-human speed and threw a long dirty serated knife at me. The knife sliced through the metal door and straight into my chest, pinning my two hands(palms facing my body, right hand over left) to my heart. I could feel the sting in my chest and hands, and began to get weak and lost conciousness.


I was in a warehouse that was filled with about 3-4 feet of water. I was standing on some stairs watching the huge fish swim around, mostly giant catfish and carp. I walked down the stairs and got in a canoe and paddled with my hands over to a wall and began reaching in the water trying to wrestle the giant fish into the canoe. Different family members began appeared and began warning me to stop making them mad. then the water drew back and the canoe flipped. A thirty foot shark (looked like a mutalated hammerhead)was barelling towards me. I ran through the waist deep water and out a small opening into the sunlight in a smaller pool with fish circling and the giant shark turned around, by this time all the fish had turned into sharks.

And thats it...

Something that happened on Tuesday

Last night I got stuck in the Arts and Humanities Bathroom. A police officer locked me in while I was in there. I waited a while conjuring up different ways I could spend the right night in there. I mean, I had a good sweater, food, water, books and entertainment in my backpack and the bathroom was super clean. After about ten minutes of enjoying the silence and discovering the unlocking mechanism was broken I called the UAB police from my cell. Explained to the operator my conundrum with a few laughs and she sent someone to unlock it. Five more minutes and the officer let me out, instead of enjoying the humor he asked me "didn't you hear me lock it up?" I said "well yeah but I was on the toilet". Him and his assistant officer started at me blankly. I think they thought I was an art queer waiting to solicit some action. Something about the emotionless exchange threw me in to a weird bitter funk. I thanked them and walked away.