1. Totally unrelated to anything photography, but I wanna share this with the whole world ‘cause I’m fucking proud of myself. Booya.


  2. Oh and by the way

    I work in the pro photo section of B&H now. So if you’re in the area, come say hello!  :)


  3. "Commute" (working title)

    A humid shroud suspended of silky gold and pink
    exposing the brick and mortar cell block tenements
    cast against a backdrop of jagged monoliths
    emerging from slumber.
    Canopies of bark and leaves extens their
    sinewy fingers to greet the
    Liquid rays of dawn, ever upward, and yet
    never reaching
    as we stumble within
    Silver bullets barrelling through
    concrete arteries below the
    hum of the Jungle
    and collectively exhale
    Flowing through the roots

  4. stoneagechronicles:



    Post to your Facebook & Twitter: https://www.thunderclap.it/projects/2594-july-4th-protest-nsa-spying

    Protest on July 4th: http://www.RestoreTheFourth.net

    Find out about other actions: http://CallForFreedom.org

    Not normally this blog’s topic, but this needs to be spread like crazy. Internet privacy is a big fucking deal, and 83 notes on this as I reblog this is pathetic.

    (via brainflower)


  5. A poem I wrote as the premise for a lyrical film I made

    The film was composed surrounding the evocations of intense feelings when one wakes up from the light of the sun next to their companion.


    Falling back into my place from

    Worlds without planes

    Eyelashes fused together with dried tears of

    Some overextended sub-mental state rip open to the

    Blinding flash of morning sun, reflecting like cream

    Off your pale palette of almost translucent white,

    Patterned with freckles.

    And all that I see is the rhythm of oxygen disseminate

    Through the rise and fall of protruding ribs.

    And all that I hear is the hum of your energies, transcended

    Somewhere far from here, where you’re free of despondency.

    And all I feel is the cyclic rhythm of the thudding of

    Your ticking clock-heart, and the summery effulgence of the sun rising

    In winter, and

    all I can think of is how this paradise could possibly

    Be meant for me, solace in the form of the calm contemplation as

    You dream.