The countryside’s dotted with houses, bales of hay and grazing cows. Thoughts that flee through my head: what’s it like to live in the countryside? and what do people do? in the interim, when they are bored, or when it’s quiet (is it always quiet?), what do they do? I thought we’d be driving through … More Roadtrippin’ To
you made flowers grow in my heart and although they’re beautiful i can’t breathe
Reading journal entries from last year, and my, oh my, how things have changed. Thirteen months ago, I lamented joblessness, the friendzone, ghosts of friends past, nihilism and more. Topics of this blog would crop up regularly–what I was doing, what was up with the name, was it even worth posting on? I’d feel … More In Retrospect
The streets were bright and packed, a hive of buzzed affluent energy. Sidewalks were filled with girls tottering around in heels and guys in button-downs. Like college, essentially, except older and larger and less fratty (but maybe not). Went out last weekend for the first time in a while. Despite the wait and warmth and fuzzy … More Night Out
To escape the city, venture deeper into the city; a necessary paradox when surrounded by people, crowds, movement and noise. Many weekends I’d escape into Center City, where I’d burrow myself in a coffeeshop or bookstore. Though I’d remain constantly surrounded by people, it was a way of finding solitude, an otherwise rare beast on the … More City Respite
Don’t you believe in a little magic? No, only neurobiological responses. Only feel-good neurotransmitters spurting across synapse to neuron to whisper overused phrases outside and under the stars Only “electrical currents”. Only “Dante”. Only “the kind in museums” and “literary figures in the middle ages” preserved in oil and turpentine I stayed up last night … More Art is Love is Love is Love
We meandered around the design district, searching for the museum of contemporary art. After circling around a few times, we realized it’d been in front of us the entire time. The space wasn’t what I’d anticipated; it was open, garage-like, with three moving art exhibits. … More Wandering the City
A few days ago I finished Autobiography of Barefoot Gen, a book about Hiroshima written by survivor Nakazawa Keiji. His survival, as a child, was miraculous–he had stood behind a cement wall, which somehow protected him, which then fell against a tree, which then prevented the wall from crushing him. Despite everything he went through, … More Comics, Atrocities and Literary Parallels
Flowers in-bloom after the rain. If you look closely, you can see rain droplets clinging to the petals. (Aren’t they beautiful?)
35 mm film, developed and processed by hand.
coolpeppermint 