I’m not going to make any promises about not neglecting this blog –– I’ve been there/done that, and I post when I post. I was pretty consistent with photos for a while, but the automatic post from Instagram plug-in I was using suddenly stopped working sometime last year and I’ve yet to figure out an alternative. Someday, hopefully.
It’s 2016 now, and I’m not going to express any sort of amazement at this milestone. It’s a thing that happens. I will briefly reflect on last year, though…
2015 was an extremely mixed bag, which is generally how things are. Life is a bittersweet thing, and the movies that get me all weepy are the usually the ones that capture the essence of bittersweet. I did get back on the filmmaking wagon last year, which was a good thing, and when the episodes are finished this year it’ll be an even better thing. Had a short relationship last year, as well, which was also nice until it wasn’t, and now I just miss everyone. I always miss everyone unless they’re right in front of me, and then I’m usually difficult and moody. I’m 42 now, so I’m a bit more self aware, for better or for worse. What else? I moved too often last year, and I’m looking forward to finding a place of my own, or at least a place where I can fully unpack my shit, this year. Feeling untethered is not good for my head.
Also, I’m going to Maui on Saturday for a week that I’m hoping feels like a year. Or at least a long month.
Photographs have been cheapened, but that’s okay. They used to be a somewhat rare thing, based on a finite roll of film, and its cost, and so forth. But no more. Do people really sit in front of a TV and look at their family photos together? Because that’d be cool. Photographs have become so ubiquitous that, more often than not, we’re actually capturing most of the BIG LIFE MOMENTS in photographs or videos. People take photographs of their poops and upload them to ratemypoo.com. I wonder if that site still exists.
I find it hard to look at photographs because of this incorrigible nostalgia I inherited from my father. They make me sad. Because everything, or most things, do look better in the past. And it makes sense, because we’d all go crazy if we were actually cognizant of how perhaps dark it all is. Our body protects us from itself so it can keep existing.
I’m leaving Bushwick tomorrow and not a moment too soon. Farewell to ice cream trucks, slowly idling down the street. Goodbye to daily car alarm, often caused by the low rumble of muffler-less motorcycles racing by. Goodbye to the L train and it’s incessant and often bewilderingly inaccurate announcements (I smile when it says “delay”). Goodbye to too much Mexican food. Goodbye to the random junk store that I meant to go to but never actually did. Goodbye to the cute blond woman who worked at Bushwick Starr, but who is maybe now in Alaska. Goodbye to my roommate.
I’m leaving with stories, and I will miss the view.
Six weeks editing at UNICEF, and here’s something amazing that I’d be allergic to: The Peanut Solution