Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Photography
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…and now a word about Substack. I'm an oldster who misses the MySpace and Tumblr era. Creative, fun hangouts where the cool kids held court. I don't recall ever having to dodge freak-a-zoids on those early social media platforms. Substack, however, is a different beast. I've only been an active "Content Creator" for a month,…
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Still raw from saying goodbye at the beginning of the month, but it's gotten a bit easier to breathe. Been receiving lovely messages from friends wanting us to know the many ways in which you helped them and provided countless good times that'll last as precious memories. I've been going through letters and photographs and…
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The things you make define who you are. You do what you do to pay the car note, but don't forget to write notes, play notes. Leave a story behind for others to try on. Thoughts and Words and Actions matter. Just know that what lights you up may hardly start a spark in the…
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Keeping up old habits is an exhausting task. There must be some worthwhile gain in the game of self-sabotage or it wouldn't be such a popular sport. The mirror I hold in front of me is a grimy, broken lens through which images scream to be noticed. Relinquish all sense of specialness; everyone is a…
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This snapshot titled "Hallucination" thumbs its nose at my whole #AmPresent vibe. It's not Christmas today, which is the point of my daily photographic reminders, i.e.: Here I am, smack-dab in the middle of having a moment and not I am ignoring the present to obsess over future events. Any oddball item or chance meeting…
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it's ok if the songwriting suffersthe poetry stinkssnapshots of flowersboring/blurry/bathed in shitty lightit's all rightthe big red death moonand a pox on your lipsbrings big big changeand change is magicdisguised as one's biggest fear
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Leaves didn't float to earth in an autumnal freefall, or were eaten by caterpillars, or whacked with a hatchet. Young leaves hit the deck in pale green tenderness because the sky threw a tantrum. In the after-winter hour, the sky was jealous of everything it looked upon. Atmosphere must never be ignored. Clouds tossed aside…
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Sandy, covered in mollusk mucous, smelling of the low tide. Treasure! Vital is the grit, the tang, the salt sea mist on taffy-pulled lips. Slap and slurp of the flip flop lost in the tide pool. Slime trails anoint mementos that come home in pockets and glove boxes. Display found objects in a…
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Her grandmother's heirloom string of pearls was Claudette's lifeline to perpetuity. It was difficult for her to traverse the physical plane, but the smooth connectedness that kept pearls in place provided great comfort. Existence moved in quick side steps which left Claudette dizzy and confused. Only by holding a pearl between thumb and forefinger, counting…
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Warmth has moved in after March decided lightning and ice was a nice calling card. The yard is struggling to find a foothold between seasons as early bud and leaf suffered a flash freeze. Today the sun shines as I clear a spot to inspect wilted rose bushes the color of rust. Stunned and stunted,…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 