random

lately, i've had no inspiration.
i cannot write, and i cannot photograph,
quite the same as i have been able to in the past.
its strange.

today

i dont know what my deal is with chains, but i find myself photographing them all the time.
today, jesus stirred my heart. he is utterly beautiful.

oh i forgot a picture with the last post.

the broomsman and the brit

it was a beautiful spring day (i guess? really? is spring here?) as i walked around shakertown, after begrudgingly paying $7 to go in buildings and photograph them. the woman at the desk ignored my request to pay only $5 dollars, being an asbury student (sort of) and having been to shakertown multiple times to photograph it the last 3-some years of my college life. she clearly recognized me, and ignored again my comment stating i didnt need a map, or a page of events, or an explanation of shaker-heritage (again, what was this? maybe say, oh, my 40th time being there, within the last 3 years???) so i took the map, stood at the desk for another 10 minutes while she circled all the buildings that were open and kept handing me the sleeve of events, after i kept putting it back in the pile. (this happening more than 3 times) it was quite comic really. so i finally left the building, shoved the sticker pass in my pocket and walked over to the first, and largest building. after photographing it quite extensively, i moved on to another building...finding that the majority of the buildings were only open to "lodging guests only" i was again infuriated at the fact that i had to pay $7. finally i came to the broom-making-building, and a man approached me -maybe 40-some-odd-years-old. he began explaining the broom-making process to me, again after i explained that i was a college student, who had visited various times only to photograph the village...and hinting that i didnt really want to hear the whole speel (sp?) again. though the man was quite persistent i finally gave in and just listened to him. however, the conversation got interesting when he began talking about his friend, a brit, (from brittian) who made a living hiking trails all around europe and journaling about his experience, then selling them to tourism magazines/agencies. it was quite the story. but i have to go to work, so ill tell more about the broomsman and the brit later.

all good things come to an end

all good things come to an end

and so i took my pictures off the wall

and put them in a box,

accidentally knocking over a glass of brushes

but somehow, it seemed fitting

and i made myself a cup of tea

and put on some azure ray

and as it droned softly in the background

i realized all good things come to an end

and i suppose all new things have a beginning

and so ill say goodbye to the place i once called home.

hedge me in

i go forward and

i go backward and

i find that im surrounded and

you hedge me in

with thorns all around me

the fragrance of love

the fragrance of jealousy

where can i go

where can i hide

where can i run from you?

where can i go to hide from your love?

i dont know where im going.