More Manipulation

Accidental Tea Photo Shoot

The extent of my obsession.

If there's one thing I could never confess. It's that I can't dance a single step.

I'm gettin' my groove back. I hate being in a photo-rut. Especially prolonged photo-rut's

that completely inhibit all work whatsoever--like cracking down on an enormous backlog

of unedited albums... I'm coming to my senses, confidence is up again, mind open. Perfect.

OH. AND GO HERE. http://www.savepolaroid.com/

Self Portrait Attempt #1

I'm not quite sure If I'm going to use it yet. The shoot was actually VERY difficult, the background

lighting/focus was nearly impossible to achieve without a cable release (broke mine in the process)

and I realized my original portrait idea isn't really attainable. Well, It would be if I had roughly 100

feet of studio to work with, and I'm dealing with a makeshift living room studio at best. I guess you just

have to work with what you have! So for attempt #1. If I do use it, I know I need to add something to it...

Shaka

I was frantically searching to find your voice, on this mix CD somewhere you guys made for my birthday. I couldn't hear you, or could I? Buried underneath three melded voices, and the rhythm of an acoustic guitar--there you were. I tried to tune in, but lost the frequency. Its been a long time, I really miss you... I have no idea what it is like to be living in your shoes right now, I know for sure It must be an agonizing struggle. I can't even comprehend it. But I do know this. You're the strongest individual I have ever known. I know you'll probably never see this, but I'm here. PB I'm here--and I love you. SO MUCH. I spent half of high school with you, enough to know that you're a fantastic person, and that you have shaped my life bro...

You can't have Fluff, or Jam, without Peanut Butter.

It keeps the bread together, it's the most important part...

Hang in there PB.

Shaka. We love you.

Got Guts (c)

I haven't gone through this since 4th grade. Eight years. It's been eight years.

7am, Dusty Road, I'm Going To Drive Until It Burns My Bones (M83)

 [Definitely looks cooler when you zoom in. CLICK.]

I wish it would downpour, right at this very moment. I'm dying for a curtain of cool, liquid salvation. Cleansing the living, the incorporeal, the arid regions we hold within our heart. When will we learn to set ourselves free from the burdens of life, loss, and the grey areas in between? Let go. The storm--It reaches out, shakes us in our bones. We tremble underneath the bucketing rain, the westerly winds, the crackle of electric vitality. Suddenly, we are pocket-sized. We are vulnerable. We are enveloped in blankets of shivers and tossed to the elements, bodies yearning for warmth. You'll find yourself, lost but found, standing out in a downpour of H20 and uncertainty. Arms outstretched--water droplets cascading down your nose like a river, dancing on your eyelashes and on your cheekbones.  It's the way your exhalations echo through the deluge, the way your chest cavity's choking tremors fade to yield exultant breaths--how we begin to sterilize open wounds, revive. Lungs filled with fresh life--You close your eyes, droplets bouncing off your frame, colliding with open pores and gently falling down your skin.