i was almost an abortion

Thursday, January 31, 2013

the trouble with him


the trouble with him is...

From even before the time he had learned to walk or talk, his personality shown through brightly.
he was not a shy boy, never timid or scared. he dove right into any and everything as if it was the best, most important thing in the universe, and he had to have it. he spent hour upon hour doing and re-doing the smallest of project, day after day, into the darkest of night. he barely slept, he rarely ate, and his mother spent many sleepless hours worrying and wondering what she should do about him and his horrible habits.  he'll surely outgrow them, she was told by everyone around her, who after they left, were themselves left puzzled and worried for the boy. this just wasn't normal. it just wasn't right.

By the summer of his fourteenth year, it was apparent that nothing about him was ever going to change. he was stubborn, sometimes arrogant, he threw fits and raised hell. he was still doing everything the same way as when he was a baby, but it had grown much more sinister, and his ritual for perfecting everything he saw, was thrown off by the fact that he never stopped for a moment, but instead he worked from beginning till end, adding here, subtracting there, coloring, building, creating, and then just before he was finished, if the slightest flaw was noticed by his highly trained eye, the entire piece was shattered, smashed, ripped apart as words straight from Satan were thrown from violently his mouth and aimed directly toward anyone who happened to be in ear shot. when he got mad, he got meaner, and his temper was short. when he was angry at you, well, you might as well die, for the depths that he sank were only more powerful because they were always all true. if he found the slightest flaw on someone, he could exploit it and you to tears within seconds. he was a bomb waiting to explode. ticking ticking ticking, you could see everyone around ready to run for safety.

But there was no place to hide...
nowhere was safe and absolutely nothing was sacred.

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

"a girl can dream, can't she?"


Whitney Houston Vs Calvin Harris - I Wanna Dance With Somebody 2012 


it was an innocent enough question really, and asked for no other reason than to make small talk..."are you dating anyone?" that's when he started laughing, not a chuckle, but a gut wrenching laugh that came from his deepest darkest places inside that rarely show. "dating?" again, the laugh. to date, there must be someone TO date, someone who WANTED to date you back...that didn't seem like it was in the cards for him, and so, the laugh faded into silence.
there was once a time when he thought he'd love to stand side by side with one person for the rest of his life...long, long time ago...but he had had 3 long-ish relationships that all ended badly, found out from all of them that HE was a nightmare to be with, endured heartbreak, heartache and heartburn to discover that what was left of his heart was nothing more than used up charcoal briquettes that were now basically nothing more than dust.
maybe, he thought, one day, i'll meet someone who is blind or deaf, definitely dumb, who won't see the disaster he himself obviously was...as he had been told so many times, and if his dream came true, this person would also be in their late 90's, a multi-millionaire with no family and the PERFECT man would of course be on life support, and if God really loved him, they would exchange their vows, draw up the will, leaving him everything, and then, right after they kissed, a blackout would wipe out all power for hundreds of miles, AND if he was really lucky, there would be no generator around for miles...
could he ever hope for such a man?
would/could this man ever love him (enough to sign over the lease)?
was he asking to much?
     "a girl can dream, can't she?"
 

pixelated broken down threads of what was once something great

1,000 years from today, when the earth has been glazed over with ice and humankind has had to find another place to live...when there is not a single Kardashian left, someone will discover remnants of what and who we are today. they will study it closely, dissect it and uncover the things we hold most dear, as well as the things we try to hide. 

what will they find out about you?




SOME PEOPLE SAY I'M A DIVA. 
BITCH EVEN! TO THAT I SAY, 
                   fuck off bitch.
"I have never been one to try and copy what other artists have done. in fact, except for what i know about classic art, i am literally retarded when it comes to modern art and why it's relevant in the first place...i don't look at magazines, what for, they all suck. other photographers who inspire me are usually dead already." me






Sometimes i'll be sitting around, bored out of my head, (a.d.d.) and in front of the computer, when i'll start fucking with some of my old images and wind up creating a new look.
i tend to see things i've done in the past, as exactly that, my past, and so like to give them a tinge of another time, like they are seen by someone in a thousand years, on some old computer that someone found in a tomb and they can't even figure out how it works. when they hit the on button, the screen is pixilated, the color tube has been blown out and there is obvious damage to the machine, so it only shows a worn down sketch of the actual image, which is now, either striped of it's color or because of some malfunction in the viewing monitor, it colorizes it in some tweaked out way that, in fact, is very beautiful, in it's own way.
Nothing lasts forever, so they say, but there are remnants and pieces of what's been done before floating through our unconsciousness all the time, and of course, we don't even know it. so, possibly, these images that were once glossy magazine quality, are a million years from now, nothing but pixelated broken down threads of what was once something great, and when the viewer tries to analyze it, they will read into it, probably something completely different than it was ever intended to be.







hot just cuz, i dunno...


hot just cuz, i dunno...





















let them talk.



it was sometime around midnight when it all came together, and, quite honestly, freaked him out. it was all quite strange, and unexplainable...but yet, there it was, and no one could deny it.
over the past few weeks, he started realizing that somehow various people, all from different walks of life, ones who's paths usually never crossed, suddenly, somehow, knew his name, and who exactly he was...they had heard such and such about him from this guy or another, sometimes what they heard was bullshit, but more than not, the things they heard were facts that he couldn't really get away from. they knew what he did, what his latest project was, who he was dating, what he had for dinner for Christ's sake! it was the sort of thing that drove him insane, because he really did try and keep a very private life. yes, he was somewhat of a public figure, but not one he thought anyone cared about that much...maybe it was because he had risen so fast and fallen so hard, and the things that he was hearing were in a way, kind of stabs in the back from outer space, like, it was telling him that the universe was watching, and jotting down every last detail so that they could throw it in his face just to show him that maybe he was still a fuck up...
maybe they knew the truth better than he did himself...
maybe it was time to re-think his life,
maybe he could try harder,
maybe that would make them all shut up...
maybe then he'd show them that he was better than al the crap he was trying to get away from in his past...
maybe...
but then again,
maybe they were right.        








then he thought, fuck them, they would find something to say about him anyway,  so...
let them talk.

Tuesday, January 29, 2013

the way he left things



though not exactly sure just where he stood,
actually not really even sure he could, technically, stand...
he glanced quickly around the room to try and spot someone who would,
maybe, still be by his side...maybe even stick up for him.
but alas, the room was packed,
yet not one face seemed remotely cordial enough to even approach.
so with that he decided to not look any further
as he didn't want to get himself more frustrated...
so he buttoned up the top button of his coat and flipped up the collar,
raised his chin and walked gracefully and without looking back,
through the crowd of disgruntled faces.
when he got to the door, he asked politely to be excused,
and when he was sneered at by the doorman,
he simply laughed and said without hesitation,
"fucker, you have 2 seconds to move before i kick your ass."
and magically, the door was opened.
in the distance he could see the clouds on the horizon part, as if a sea,
and sunlight beamed down and birds few upwards and chirped.
things could only be better from here on out, he thought...

and he was right.








Monday, January 28, 2013

King Danny Young Teen Bodybuilder

King Danny Young Teen Bodybuilder


who in this world
could ever love me 
as much as i love
myself??

who could possibly have the patience?let alone the amount of time, needed to stroke my ego and make me believe they aren't lying...is it possible? could it be? is there someone in this whole world who could ever love me more than me?

i can't explain





there are some things in this world that you just can't explain...
who the hell did that?
how did they get away with it?
why didn't anyone stop it?
and sometimes after a few minutes of thinking about it a few more times,
you realize,
who cares...it happened, they did it, and they didn't even get caught...
you gotta love em for having the nuts to do it in the first place.



http://www.postsecret.com/

http://stories.xnxx.com/

http://tribes.tribe.net/








and then again...
sometimes it's better not to know the answers...

Saturday, January 26, 2013

portrait of an artist









w
hen you are born with a gift,
you are considered "chosen".
some of the chosen ones grow, blossom and bloom spectacularly 
like wildflowers in a field.
they lift and encourages the spirits of everything around them with their fragrant petals and magnificent colors. and you would think that they were the lucky ones for being chosen...
think again.

the chosen are also the tortured.
their souls are exposed.
their hearts are torn open and bruised by the pain that they inevitably always feel.
for they know that they are usually misunderstood,
they are aware that they are considered strange, odd, or unlike the rest.
they are celebrated for their talent,
and then shunned when they move in a different direction,
which, is really, just growth.
they must create to feel useful,
they most times cannot think in a box,
so they are a lot of times outcasts who try,
but to trying isn't what naturally comes to them.
to try is to fail,
because when you are chosen,
it comes from so deep down within,
that it just exudes and flows freely.

the chosen are chosen to move society to a higher place.
to step forward and climb up,
to lift and rejoice and make the world a better place...
but the cost they must pay on their souls is immense,
and so they torture themselves and sometimes,
they burn out too fast.
never reaching their full potential.
never understanding just "why?"
never having the peace of the unchosen,
who just never seem to care, either way.

if they never imagined something better,
if they never envisioned a magnificent thing could be,
then they are satisfied with the ordinary,
and don't ever see the potential of what could ever be.

sad.


Thursday, January 24, 2013

the boss

DIANA ROSS the boss (DAVID MORALES CLUB MIX)


i was so sure, 
so so sure...
but love taught me
who was the boss...

 so many times i think i am going in the right direction at the right pace, at the right place, but somehow it turns out it was unfortunately at the wrong time...
there are no "right" or "wrong" ways sometimes...you just have to jump in head first and sink or swim...
if it's meant to be, you'll tread water with no problem, but...
that's not always the case.
i try, my hardest, or, so i think.
but sometimes trying isn't the only thing...there's luck, timing, and just chance. it's not going to always come to you, your way, when you want, but it will come, if you give it time, patience, understanding, and if you just stop looking...it's out there, somewhere...
and when the moment is right,
it will be there, as promised,
probably even better and more amazing than you even dreamed.


but just don't let it slip away once you have it, because it also can be lost faster than you got it. hold on to it. enjoy it,
 cherish it...
love is the dream.
love is the boss.
love is the answer.

Wednesday, January 23, 2013

whistle a happy tune



it had been months since he first started this, what seemed then like, a world winded process that actually, in reality, was even more than he had even thought in the first place...
but here he was , almost at the end, and as things started to solidify and take shape, they  also ventured off into unexpected turns and near misses that almost threw him off course completely...
whew.
it was a lot.
and even though he could have done it maybe in less time had he not taken the side tracks and maybe if he hadn't  been attacked, and or had that illness that was not even his fault in the first place, he possibly would have been there sooner..
but, really, not by much.
his path was his path.
he took it the way he needed to take it to get there, and that was that.
he saw the clearing in the distance, and the  future looked bright. well, brighter, and at this point,
really,
that was all he could ask for.

and so, he continued...
head held high, shoulders back,
and a slight confident smile on his face.















Tuesday, January 22, 2013

95 Christopher Street apartment 3M



                                                                                                           my bedroom, in my bed, with the deer head my grandfather shot when i was 3 that was over my grandmothers fireplace till she died.






classic j/o
the 95 series

when your house is more than a home, and becomes your work space and studio, things get changed, rearranged, mixed up, used as props, and photographed...which, in turn, leaves you with memories of the home you no longer inhabit, but will never forget. such is the case with my home of 15 years, the legendary landmark Manhattan building, 95 Christopher Street which is now a memory, but it's insides and out were used in excess providing me with unequalled views, unbelievable structure and unparalleled experiences of a life lived to the fullest, when times were good. many people entered the building to visit, queen latifa, hundreds of gay porn stars, a few of them even legends...amy sedaris was my next door neighbor for all of the 15 years i lived there, her brother david, sarah jessica parker and her man mathew and their kid wandered in n out of my neighbors home, bumping into me and my dog buddy who sat watch at the end of the hallway every afternoon. quentin crisp still lived there when i moved in, but died a few years later. it wasn't uncommon to have amy knock and offer some home cooking in return for borrowing lights or something random for her newest coffee table venture...or to smoke weed at the end of a long day.
it was home, it was nice. it's now just a memory, but a fond one, and one i'll never forget, especially because it was my studio for so many years.
all of these shots were taken at various times in 95. some on the roof, some in my apartment, fire escapes, elevator shafts, hallways...u name it...i exploited it. 
luckily.

elevator shaft


rooftoprooftop


outside deck of Andrew Ruth's apartment on the 16th floor



my living room 


                             my living room


my bedroom

my living room



roof