Toothbrush; used once.
“Were you up high?” asks Kuan. “High enough to die,” says I.
Who are you, to ask the sky for anything, to hold itself together, to luminesce iridescence, to show you glimpses of God?
“An old man calls over to where I’m sitting on a bench, from around 30 paces away, and asks if I feel like talking. It’s a reasonable enough request – I’m not doing anything but watching the water from up…
I hope he does not read my blog, or the surprise will be ruined.
Grey Area, 17.5 x 24cm, Paper and graphite on Silver gelatin print The fourth publication of art journal VLAK includes my photo-collage Grey Area and two other photographs.
“I’m not a romantic guy, I’m just mad about stuff.” Kuan explains his luck with a girl.
The polar vortex hits New York, January 2014.
Astoria knows class, Christmas 2013. Classy class.
“These are the times we live in: the casual sex institutionalized complex. The mass-ingested half-boredom of fucking because you can and because it’s the closest thing to intimacy that you can fake without revealing anything about yourself other than your…