a rare delight is walking down sunset blvd at 9:30pm in the warm smoglight of a summer evening en route to the local grocery and a pint of chocolate hazelnut gelato.
i have taken fewer pix this summer than i have in any other recent season, and the tradeoff has been just fine. in exchange for hands-free, absolute participation in life and its sticky rotten dripping joy, i come to you today empty-handed. in the days before photography, i wrote a blog about banal shit that floated floated floated to the top of my perception. there were no visual aids, no abstract distractions to lead you down my primrose path. i had only my words to describe the absurd, the ridiculous misinterpretation of my interactions with the living.
tonight - bourbon-fueled, hot, and silent - i listen to german electronica while watching a middle aged armenian man become enraged by a pizza-faced cashier's inability to scan a peach. i act like someone who doesn't give a shit, while secretly recording the ripples of my wake. i sing along to arcade fire's rebellion, wishing i could do what they did - match words with sound with authenticity with reach. i'm not taking pictures. i participate, i participate.
i dream.
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