sky day 289

feelings are incalcuable and i am still trying to work them out like a math problem

everyone is still trying to work them out like a math problem

if this happens, i will feel this way

turns into

if this happens, i will probably feel this way

when alana left her computer in the airport i felt bad for her because everyone said she acted careless and stupid

but i knew when i saw her face, that she was just thinking about more important things

than things

so it is not an issue

someone thoughtful found it and is mailing it to her

you got so fucking lucky, i heard someone say

and i saw her face, i could tell how that might have made her feel

 

sometimes being here makes me love people even more

and other times it makes me so confused and so lonely

how can you talk to people like that

how can you talk about people like that

using words like that

 

i can imagine kristin looking at my photos and using some words like that

but then i know it's different

because it is sarcastic, i guess

we just keep trying to be ironic

the ones i don't post anywhere later on, when i come home

and saying these aren't perfect, but they're nice i guess

i can imagine her picking them apart, and that being a part of the way she would appreciate them

the light isn't always perfect but somehow pictures just kind of fall into my camera

i feel like i have almost nothing to do with them sometimes

they are just what my eyes saw

so how can i take credit for that

how can anyone take credit for that

 

i felt very alone staring at a hundred and fifty people sitting in the same room and it was quiet and no one was talking

it could have been because they all felt like me

or it could have been because none of them felt like me

maybe one or two of them, maybe seventy three of them felt like me

i felt alone and it seems like people often feel alone or paranoid or nervous or akward

i looked into the faces of people around me and studied some wrinkles

a little acne, a healthy and a pleasant level of imperfection

my fingers hurt, i had played guitar for six or so hours in a hammock that day

i looked at the faces of everyone and measured them by how intimidating i percieved them to be

and then i remembered that probably everyone is very scared of almost everything

 

 

maybe it is not hard to be a person at all

maybe i just want it to be hard!

maybe lots of things

does it have to be one way

do we even have to talk about it or can we just get high and internalize it

fuck, that was stupid

 

i want to dig a hole and then i want to put a seed in it and then i want to take a picture of what comes out of it every day and people who look at it will say it is discussing the political structure of growth and development

and then people who look at it will tell me that it is incredible because they like me or love me, if that is possible, and they will want to be nice to me because they feel positively about me as a human being

and i will say thank you and i will want to say i am not the plant, don't thank me

and then i want to wake up and write something completely original but then i will just write something similar to this and want to do a photo project that is nothing like anything i have ever done but then i will do something remarkably similar

i will say no sequences, no series, no multiples of the same thing over time, no portraits and then i will do series and lots of portraits

i imagined an earthquake this weekend that was set to the tune of a perfect banjo

lying in a hammock playing guitar and spinning under some trees in africa (fuck, finally)

you said it sounded good, please don't stop playing

it had been so long since you heard live music

and i knew i had misjudged you

i knew i had pegged you wrong in that split second

and in the airport when you said you weren't thinking about your computer not because you were careless but because you were caring, instead, was exactly when i knew i was wrong

 

 

some things are not complicated

but we are used to everything being complicated

i wish i could just say, "i like you" to everyone who has a nice smile, and everyone who listens to people next to them instead of waiting to talk

and it would be understood exactly as i meant it depending on who i was saying it to

but unfortunately we have to articulate

if we expect people to feel what we feel, and i think that is bullshit sometimes!

i end up wishing for things, for perfect sense to be made

as if it weren't a sentence but instead maybe a picture or a stencil

but most likely an instrumental song

an opus!

i can't write anything, i know, so i listen to the one song that makes me feel anything lately

and i thank coincidence for it's length

and i wait for the parts when i feel like i am listening to my favorite people talk to me

without electricity and technology distorting their voice

killing their pitch, buzz humming over their laugh

without pixels refusing to do justice to their beautiful perfect faces

for changing the color of their eyes

whatever, there is never anything to say, really, and somehow i always manage to spill my guts unsatisfactorily every time i look at a fucking keyboard

 

fuck

 

"fumbling green gentleness"

Done