July 14, 2006
sigh. old DB crossprocessed photopit nostalgia. SIGH.
i need better image hosting. photobucket keeps downgrading the resolution of my photos and it's infuriating. anyway, the best part was that he gave me this look that said, "you obviously snuck into the pit with a fake press pass. and that is universally amusing. Because you’re lazy and wicked as all humans are." i use best part loosely--fa fa fa fa fa fafafafafahhhh.
Posted by caroline at July 14, 2006 4:58 PMI'm quite happy with flickr.com these days.
Posted by: michael at July 15, 2006 12:03 PMi've been thinking of flickr. i used to find its navigation/interface confusing so have reneged on using it in the past because of the irritation that resulted . . .but if it maintains some semblance of image resolution than i may give it another shot . .. thanks!
Posted by: caroline at July 15, 2006 5:29 PMI find myself wishing sometimes that I'd known you longer. Perhaps from the teen years. You've always been so far ahead and I progressively see why in new and mounting ways.
We could have been the best drunk 17 year olds. We'd have listened to the Talking Heads the whole way through. I might have been better for it.
But possibility is a thing of the Present and Future.
Damn.
Posted by: Xavier at July 18, 2006 4:31 AMhave i said before that i am far too ahead of myself, the person here in question, and that my greatest problem is, and always was, me trying to race to catch up with myself, my thoughts and where they're going? it's a lot easier to do, this racing against yourself, when you are uninhibited, much like DB's style is uninhibited, which is one of the things I most admire about him as an artist. You caught the tale-end of my teenage years, and i was still pretty much free to run back then. then there was knee-deep in trev shit, and trauma of not eating, and everything and now there are times and places where i find myself truly unable to move. though, it's always a reference pt. that older time when I descended dark, hollow stairs, and now it is no doubt a newer, more powerful type of freedom to which i am still very much adjusting.
as nice as it would have been to have had you around at age 16,17, the first time we met, we drank white wine on the tombstones and mocked bad poetry by sitting on it with asses wet from the rain, and i, for one, wouldn't trade that for the world.