3/29/16 - This Place, Before

Wonder and wander, consistent cycles and new discoveries of places I've never been to before, but places I've definitely seen. Situations of reoccurring actions, trust me when I say this, I know what you're thinking...your eyes speak louder than any words you can ever muster. This air is familiar, the terrain is a bit different, yet the steps I am taking and where they are placed are spot in; I've been here before. I just wish you could tell me the truth, and give into your nature. Tell me what is fair and set me free.

3/29/16 - Calibration

I have not seen levels of frustration like this in quite some time, I'm starting to see things crawling on the wall. I want to destroy everything, I knew today would go this way, I was just unaware of what pushed me here. So let's question everything I've ever loved over and over and over again until it does not make sense and I develop a justification to just throw in the towel and burn this all to the fucking ground? Fucking Calibrations.

So enjoy the randomness of a flow which is unprecedented for me, a little something and glimpse into a personal life where we could never be so personal, and the closest you will ever be to personal to me. A chicken coop, a brother, a kitchen, a goat and a cat all walk in front of a camera. Small glimpses, test runs and proofs; I'm bored. I seriously question what the fuck is the point of this all? Adios, my dear friend.

3/24/16 - The Place

I would run around here as a child and it always felt infinite. Twist and turns, the places I found here I knew I would never share with anyone. I have memories here, and this place like these memories will always be mine.

3/22/16 - Fish

The smell of you hits me when I least expect it, sometimes. I try to get on with my day, and it surprises me like when I find your hair in the most inconvenient places. A small reminder which leaves such a meaningful scar, a sense of happiness leaving a scratch of sacrifice. Your smell it lingers, here, now. Why are you so distinctive? I miss you a lot today. 

3/20/16 - Octopus

Odors and ideas intentionally linger, lasting until washed. These things should come with a warning label. Those with intuition, a touch of imagination, and any of those with a sense of imitation, which and who this does and never will apply, approach with caution. Advancements of warning signs and signals have been applied, mailed to the correct address, nonrefundable thoughts at the checkout; I wish I could give this up. Now I have this odor, this stench. Wrapped around me, at least put your tentacles where it will feel good; that is for you to decide.

3/18/16 - My Nonnie's Cross

My Nonnie gave this to me before she passed away; I miss her every single day.

3/15/16 - Drift Wood

I plug a light in, I push a button, the light turns on, I focus my camera, I position my subject, I make tailored alterations to my tripod, I refocus my camera, I re-position my subject, I push down the shutter release, I count to 10. The light is yellow, I feel yellow, if I could eat any color, that color would be yellow.

3/13/16 - Emily Kochanek

Angles and dimension,  I like to find these characteristics. She is an excellent structure. She reminds me of people I've known.

Destroy in entire and rebuild as I see fit; this does not apply, no not here. She is a blank canvas. Distractions of surrounding chaos shifts slightly the state of mind with aggression and a dominance. Dilapidated structures generating an acquired curiosity, a healthy nervousness. She sits in a forest and could watch the end of the world. All would be fine, all would be fine. Patiently waiting, observing quintessential New England, her piece to all of this settles here.

3/12/16 - Athol, MA

This last Wednesday, my partner and I visited the town of Athol, Massachusetts. We visited a few parks, a few lakes, talked about Black Bears with a few locals, and met a nice gentleman by the name of Nicholas; all great things, just a great overall experience.

I found Athol to be a vortex of secrecy, or so it seemed that way. Lawns scattered with junk and trash stacked high from years past parties and domestic separations. Homes under constant renovation adorned with housewives adjusting themselves to their surroundings as traffic slowly slips by. Friendly vagabonds stepping up steep hillsides, reaching the top, only to be picked up by friends in a car, being brought down that same hillside. The mills and factories are shut down, replaced by failed local businesses that attempted to seize the American Dream for their own; their signs left above the entry similar to the tombstone of a grave. 

Visit Athol, plan your trip accordingly, and enjoy the solitude.