Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds

Lucy has been part of the family for two weeks now. She is the new terror on the block…cute and adorable, but she keeps me on my toes or, well, bites my toes.

San Juan’s St. Johns Celebration Portfolio

Here is small body of images from a day that started off on a bad foot for myself, still waiting for my debit card to be overnighted to my apartment in Ocean Park four days after being in Puerto Rico with minimal cash supplimented by a good friend and ending with an innocent girl being used as a shield during a dispute and dying from her injuries. I have been told that violence is prevelant throughout San Juan; I just didn’t think I would be so close to such an event.

Thank you.

Six word stories

There’s nothing better than four scores.

The camera infant; born to be.

Life is wiser when you compromise.

Two pathways. Both traveled. Turn around.

Pretentious fucking asshole. Lover’s remembered words.

The novel’s life lives beyond characters.

Car FOR SALE. Febrezed. Clean title.

Conscience reflected in the parents’ habits.

Mad with rage; rearrange it again.

Flicker in memory; this is amnesia.

I loved you. You hate me.

Driving at 120; admission to insanity.

—————————————————

She had a pineapple mole; identity.

She had a pineapple mole; sex.

She had a pineapple mole; ambiguity.

She had a pineapple mole; brown.

She had a pineapple mole; curls.

She had a pineapple mole; definitely.

She had an insatiable life pursuit.

—————————————————

Twenty minutes to the shore; Jersey.

Highway tragedy. Hundreds of smashed watermelons.

Three containers of cremation; all dogs.

The window light massages her back.

While the Winter cold absorbs me.

And he sleeps in taco form.

There’s no coffee to be brewed.

My eyes feel her breath, rising

then falling; heavy white sheets embrace.

Two warm bodies, one eclipsing day.

She says. What’s on your mind.

You roll. You think. Your silent.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

Old guitar. Ex. Fake Plastic Trees.

She plays your heartstrings. Do I.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

You always seem aloof. Say something.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

World vision through a glass bottom.

I am here with you my love.

I, now, said that aloud; love?

Uncontrollable tears. Reality. I’m too late.

Patterns predicts this; your tragic flaw.

There’s nothing better than four scores.

The camera infant; born to be.

Life is wiser when you compromise.

Two pathways. Both traveled. Turn around.

Pretentious fucking asshole. Lover’s remembered words.

The novel’s life lives beyond characters.

Car FOR SALE. Febrezed. Clean title.

Conscience reflected in the parents’ habits.

Mad with rage; rearrange it again.

Flicker in memory; this is amnesia.

I loved you. You hate me.

Driving at 120; admission to insanity.

—————————————————

She had a pineapple mole; identity.

She had a pineapple mole; sex.

She had a pineapple mole; ambiguity.

She had a pineapple mole; brown.

She had a pineapple mole; curls.

She had a pineapple mole; definitely.

She had an insatiable life pursuit.

—————————————————

Twenty minutes to the shore; Jersey.

Highway tragedy. Hundreds of smashed watermelons.

Three containers of cremation; all dogs.

The window light massages her back.

While the Winter cold absorbs me.

And he sleeps in taco form.

There’s no coffee to be brewed.

My eyes feel her breath, rising

then falling; heavy white sheets embrace.

Two warm bodies, one eclipsing day.

She says. What’s on your mind.

You roll. You think. Your silent.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

Old guitar. Ex. Fake Plastic Trees.

She plays your heartstrings. Do I.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

You always seem aloof. Say something.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

World vision through a glass bottom.

I am here with you my love.

I, now, said that aloud; love?

Uncontrollable tears. Reality. I’m too late.

Patterns predicts this; your tragic flaw.

• There’s nothing better than four scores.
• The camera infant; born to be.
• Life is wiser when you compromise.
• Two pathways. Both traveled. Turn around.
• Pretentious fucking asshole. Lover’s remembered words.
• The novel’s life lives beyond characters.
• Car FOR SALE. Febrezed. Clean title.
• Conscience reflected in the parents’ habits.
• Mad with rage; rearrange it again.
• Flicker in memory; this is amnesia.
• I loved you. You hate me.
• Driving at 120; admission to insanity.

—————————————————

She had a pineapple mole; identity.

She had a pineapple mole; sex.

She had a pineapple mole; ambiguity.

She had a pineapple mole; brown.

She had a pineapple mole; curls.

She had a pineapple mole; definitely.

She had an insatiable life pursuit.

—————————————————

• Twenty minutes to the shore; Jersey.
• Highway tragedy. Hundreds of smashed watermelons.
• Three containers of cremation; all dogs.

—————————————————

The window light massages her back.

While the Winter cold absorbs me.

And he sleeps in taco form.

There’s no coffee to be brewed.

My eyes feel her breath, rising

then falling; heavy white sheets embrace.

Two warm bodies, one eclipsing day.

She says. What’s on your mind.

You roll. You think. Your silent.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

Old guitar. Ex. Fake Plastic Trees.

She plays your heartstrings. Do I.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

You always seem aloof. Say something.

I am here with you my love.

I can not say that aloud.

World vision through a glass bottom.

I am here with you my love.

I, now, said that aloud; love?

Uncontrollable tears. Reality. I’m too late.

Patterns predicts this; your tragic flaw.