I clench my wrists and twist my back.
I oversleep and abuse myself.
I don't eat enough greens.
I gotta work on that.
I like greens...
I am barraged by bullshit. From all sides. Both sides.
And odd. How the bullshit references the other bullshit, and none of it is true.
Other people's fantasies.
So, what do I do?
I come home, have a Jack and Coke (The Real Thing) and listen to Swearing At Motorists.
This is about you.
And me too.
"Coca-Cola and pills
Won't help with that void you can't fill
Are you shooting for thrills
Or aiming to kill
The white room turns red and blue
And you're leaving without wearing your shoes
'Cause no one paid attention to you
When you sang your blues."
Actually, I think it's about a certain young gentleman from Aberdeen, Washington. But that's just my interpretation. So, fuck it.
It ain't the truth. But really, what is?
Some things are true. All of the following is:
Carolyn. Medium Format Polaroid. Taken in a moment.
Shooting her on Saturday night made me happy.
Despite the madness on the streets of Brooklyn on Friday...