brighton park '63, obviously, but where is it today?

,don't write wood the chiseller says in the nasty vacuous movie about criminal traders, the boiler room, but i have no clue nor interest what it means. idiots that mime every word of wall street don't deserve movies but to be in one of our black sites, undocumented.

 every body wants a piece of the bloody market.

fille trees

he's the mirror of your soul without all the trappings

help me copp, just keep helping me.

gluck

i don't really want to start over

i thought about you last night. i thought, i never really knew you, what am i thinking about?

island boy

it's a closed loop, with endless opening circles echoing.

keepin it simple. not really. but it is simple. sometimes i take the same picture again and sometimes i lament that it is boring. it's deliberate though too, i mean sometimes it's not and i long for a good picture, but i was thinking today there's a comfort in sameness, and a comfort in repetition, and a comfort in the boring, or the diffuse, lacking a focal point or the tension of composition. maybe that's all cogitation, but when john fowles said he deliberately wrote boring passages i saw the wisdom and truth in it, though i will never be as brilliant as he. and a picture is worth a thousand words, even a boring one, as i see as these words add up to nullity and redundancy and probably ultimate annoyance. lo siento mucho.

lost (and corroding) in america.

my sponsee. i watched last night thanks for sharing, about various addictions and groups of addicts and while i shudder at that prospect i liked the movie a lot and saw the value of surrender and people connecting one by one and being there in crisis. and it was very good at black humor, especially concerning sex addiction. copp and i are sort of sponser and sponsee reciprocally for one another, at large.

                                          old business

polish bird fotog.

rip

sell it all. sell everything. get close.

service

tax shelter for birds

simple complex

sky mirror

sleep walker (don't you know that it's different for girls)

sorry i've been a shitty son, dad, sorry i've been a shitty dad, son, i wish you were alive, dad.

sexy stratasphere

sycamore sweet. the polish fotog had a looong lens with camouflage like unto the lovely sycamore. what kind of tree is that he asked. i told him and he showed me a downy wood pecker.

synchromesh

trainee behind glass

treat-deprived copp scavenging the wake of coyote

ubu

voice of jessica lange. purrrr.

what will you do when the war is over, tender comrade? the same thing i always do, and it'll never be over.

what's this? like an elfin shepherd's crook?

when i ramble, when i'm speechless, it don't matter to him.

working vacation.

yeah, i fucked up, small time, even on vacation. that's why i take working vacation.

p.s. love, you copp. that at least makes sense.