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56/365: Flee

Run away. FLEE. He's selling you doom.

Uploaded on Mar 4, 2011

2 comments

55/365: The Tracks

Checking his phone on the tracks. Twitter? Grindr? A news source? Damned if I know, man: I'm just heading home. Note the train approaching, like a horrific unwanted metaphor.

Uploaded on Mar 4, 2011

4 comments

54/365: This is a Lamp

That's right. A salt lamp in my bedroom. Observer of depravity.

Uploaded on Mar 4, 2011

1 comment

53/365: Metropolis

Horrific coils.

Uploaded on Mar 4, 2011

1 comment

52/365: John Coltrane

When I was 18 years old I had a roommate who was a mad genius saxophone player who risked his life to play solo symphonies on the rooftops of his university, scaling the walls with a broken arm. He died at age 21, leaving this postcard taped to our kitchen cupboard. It has been taped to every cupboard in every kitchen I have lived in since then.

Uploaded on Mar 4, 2011

1 comment