The Magic Hour

(the 20 or so minutes after a clear day's sunset when the light makes everything look overwhelmingly beautiful)

brooklyn rooftops can fool anyone into falling in love

So much for this photoblog. I want my camera back.

Black Snakes

I was digging through old photos and came across a series from a year or two ago.







































Thinking about Dane. Who is in jail right now. Hang in there.

That night we lit black snakes on an anonymous stoop just below Union Square.

Having, Having Not

Lately, I've been reminded how dangerous certain kinds of curiosity can be and how accurate those corny quotes are that say you shouldn't bother wondering how things could have been.

Else, you could dig the hole to bury the cat.

Wiley Oakley

The things we don't get over.

My friend Emily just revealed to me that her great grandfather, Wiley Oakley, was a famous trail guide on the Appalachian Trail. There's a recording of him. It's probably my favorite thing ever. You probably won't give a shit. Why isn't mountain roaming an occupation anymore?

At Best We Walk on Water

...and at worst? Well, swallowed up.

(Boston, MA & Irvington, NY)

it's coney

a year late

very much a cowboy

We could do whatever we want
and the sun would still shine on us
like razor blades
spilling from a box