'fessing up

I think i will be honest.

I'm sick and tired.

I'm smoking too much, talking to much, spend too much, too much caffinne
and i cannot spend a day without painkillers.

I am not well, living hurts, walking hurts, sitting hurts only sleeping doesn't.

I believe that I will die before I am 35.

I live in the constant fear that tomorrow I won't be able to walk again.

I hide in working, its an addiction and an escape.

I haven't slept properly for more than 4 years.

I am a loner.

My work is rife with that constant sense of loneliness. ( just scroll in the archives dude)

I am a selfish photographer. I shoot for myself and impose myself on everything I shoot.
Its taken me 2 years to realise that. I think its disgusting.

I hate myself.

I hate my work.

I'm bored shitless.

I walked out on theatre and all my dreams and have been going with the flow ever since.

I have never found out why I do what I do.

I never wanted to be a photographer.

I dislike PR, advertising, marketing. It distracts from whats real and important in life.

I hate being called a photographer. I'm joseph, I breathe, lets start with that.

I love the act of taking a picture.

I think photographers take more than they ever give. It bothers me.

I sense, feel and talk to things I shouldn't.

I live a charmed life.

I am a dishonest liar.

I don't treasure people enough or the way i used to.

I take my friends and family for granted

I am ashamed.

I want to know and not to judge. To understand and not decide.

I wish I was normal.

I have never regretted anything I have done.

I am laying out the cards only so you know and I know.

I have been tempted too often now to sell all the gear and start over.

I can only hope that this pit is a phase.

I want to love and enjoy again.

I want to learn again.

I want to see through God's eyes and not mine.

This is catharsis.

KIndly please

kindly please string me up.
kindly please note that photographing some else's interior is illegal.
kindly please be careful what you wish for.

If under foot

Stone-stoning

Direction

Nothing

The cat bounded past him, his eyes followed. Halting as they met the path.
It was but a ditch but his eyes saw a road. The path ran along the sparse grove,
disappearing into the inky black where the trees clumped into forest.

The black stretched into him easily. Its gentle hand tugged at his soul, soothing
stillness that lent a quiet strength. Its silence crept in tingles up his spine. Softly
liftingtill he was floating. Flying on silence.

The being inside him longed to run to the path and run the widening, straightening
length. Still he didn't stir but simply hung there as wind began to rustle the grove's
irregular lines.

The velvet blackness blinded him from the seeing the eyes that peeped out from
within the grove. The looks of those that watch as watchers famillar with the turmoil
of embittered living and its cries when a little of the unknown understanding is known.
The passing watch of those that live on the way of the ditch-path of night. The closest
loneliest tree knew too of the path and it shed its flowers. Trying to the truth of the
theatre of the dark and how it often impresses and empty unfeeling soul. In vain the
pale flowers fell in the tungsten sky.

As he hung he began to display his right to walk the path that curved away from
him. It was a visa packed with the stamps of the nodding approval he sought back
home, a worn document covered with fingerprints of his gnarled hands. He submited
it to the black, letting it sail over the pale flowers and past the watchers. The wind blew again and the grove sounded like hundreds of tiny flags, but the forest was silent. The black was silent. He felt his feet had never left the ground and the strength of stilness slipped away. He saw the path as a ditch in the wet grass where the fallen flowers looked like tears.

The cat pawed its way back into view, tawny in the warm streetlights. It looked at he and soundlessly said,"Nothing."

If you managed to read that, I salute you, even i can't understand it.

Good advice for an open canvas

Jayln at the Seeding Lab, before the workshop(I hope I haven't missed anything)

Zero yourself.

Open your mind to anything.

There are no rights or wrongs

Don't expect anything to happen.

Don't ask for approval because there won't be any.

Theatre.

Its been a while. jolly good show yo.

blown safe door

Charles Schulz
"I like my work, not that it is that much fun. People say:' I know you love your work.'
Its not that easy, it's very difficult"

Maybe its just the current situation. Its not a safe way of living. But i'm sticking to this, at least for a while.

To Shannon

Here's to the the tomorrows and what they bring.

and so it is

Well i've lost my archive of the last year's stuff.
I'm not upset (surprisingly) just resigned.
The main harddrive and backup have corrupted files saved,
i don't know how much is damaged and I suspect its my brother's pc's motherboard thats gone.
I'm glad I don't have to touch that thing again.

The good news is that i saved the important ones separately (blank lah), have DVDs somewhere of half of the work. The lost experiments and street shooting on my contax I will miss badly. The rest of the photos i don't really care that much for.

So guess what? I have to shoot more.

Oh curtains