265.

January 9th ; La Dispute & Native
January 12th ; Lemuria

Thank you, Louisville. Looking forward to both of these shows, especially Lemuria considering I have never seen them live. La Dispute and Native shows are always good shows. Plus, they are extremely attractive fellas.

264.

Why? : Whispers Into The Other

I had a dream about my dad the other night. He knocked on my apartment door and when I opened it, he gave me a big hug. I don't remember the conversation we had because I woke up shortly after the dream. When I was in therapy, my "special friend" (she didn't want me to call her a therapist) told me that when you dream about a lost loved one, it means you have accepted their death. Then reoccuring dreams are like "visits." The one problem with dream interpretations is that there are so many different interpretations for different circumstances. The most consistent dream interpreation was something along the lines of: "To dream about the death of a loved one, suggests that you are lacking a certain aspect or quality that the loved one embodies. Ask yourself what makes this person special or what do you like about him. It is that very quality that you are lacking in your own relationship or circumstances. Alternatively, it indicates that whatever that person represents has no part in your own life." I think I have just been thinking about him a lot. I'm proud of myself right now and I know my family is too. I just wish that he was here to see it all.

I'm becoming more and more apathetic toward attention from males and relationships in general. It's extremely disheartening. I've always been all about love and having bonds with people. I suppose after two years of being single, the search is bound to have a break. So I just keep thinking about my previous love interests, especially after recent conversations.

Have I become bug under thumb for your scented nails to glow by? I need out of my shirts I think you'll find attractive. On your hill perched so clandestine you rest like a second term president and I go destined to keep the crayon close and guess until my name goes red. At whose dead half-daughters were denied your womb on the down low? At whose half-sons come a lump in my throat and man my fever with an army of frogs underskin? And I don't want to dance with your shadow no more. Or listen through an elephant's ear for your whispers into the other. My curse is the circuit that your fingers rehearse on me to quell my nerves. And my only one is for you to king me with wavecrest and not stethoscope with the core, not tentative as you were. Choosing soup cans from the cupboard for your grade school's Thanksgiving food drive, no. But I'm the only one pulling near clear from a melted crayon under the comforter some man cured your goosebumps with. I'm sick and stuck on something you. Every time I see a Honda Civic my heart just jumps right through. I do it by your nails' light but nothing comes, it's true. And I'm caught in a pipe to smoke my own limbs off. And I don't want to dance with your shadow no more. Or listen through an elephant's ear for your whispers into the other. Another gum gut morning telephone restraint. He's in your bed. Has he taken my place? Another gum gut morning when I see you face-to-face. He's in your bed...

263.

La Dispute: Here He Is, He Is Not Afraid

How is it possible to be so content with my current life but still dwell on my past and let it get the best of me? I really need to go back home for awhile so I'm glad that is happening soon.

Either be with me or leave me be. You are killing me.

We move by instinct, darling. Let our hands be hatchets. Let us wander blindly, swinging madly in a forest made of flesh. We move by instinct, darling. Let our eyes like lepers drive the doubters from our homes and into the bottom of the sea. And we speak in signals, darling. Let our smoke stitch pictures. Let us twist in patterns, dull the horror of a city still on fire. For we are like medics handling suicide by cyanide with bleeding fingers. Let us suffer completely inadequate. And we move like lovers. Lover let me run my fingers down your side and kiss you right below the eye. We sleep with shadows but we never give them bread. Horror, dress yourself in shame or I will tear a hole in you, you harlot. Burn your eyes, I will hold your white-washed bones unto the sky and scream "Oh god, if you are there, I hold this body to your judgment- give it your wrath or your mercy."

262.

I am finally finished printing my Photo I Final. I still need to spot by Monday and mat by Friday. I'm so overwhelmed and really tired of looking at bikes. But I'm proud of what I've done and can't wait for Photo II. Although I'm terrified of color, I'm excited. I need to be out of my comfort zone so that I can keep producing work I'll be proud of. This semester I didn't do my best work, I'll admit that. After three years of black and white, I was getting bored. I know I'm at the right school and getting the best instruction, I just need something new and exciting. I really want a better scanner and a negative scanner so that my digital copies have close to the same depth as the originals.

Mike Tackett ; Sawyer Point ; Cincinnati, OH.



Chase Anderson ; Reser's Bicycle Outfitters ; Newport, KY.



Bikehaus ; Cincinnati, OH.

Bikehaus ; Cincinnati, OH



Becca Hofrichter ; Chicago, IL.

261.

The Weakerthans : The Reason

Please don't leave this time.

You tell me to fuck off when I need somebody to. How you make me laugh so hard. How whole years refuse to stay where we told them to, bad dog, locked up whining in a word or a misplaced souvenir. How the past chews on your shoes, and these memories lick my ear. How we waste our precious time marching in the picket lines that surround those striking hearts. How the time is never now, and we know who we should love, but we're never certain how. I know you might roll your eyes at this, but I'm so glad that you exist.

260.

I need to start living by my gut feelings. I knew that my hesitance in dating in Chicago meant something, but I ignored it. Now I am left with empty words and more baggage.

259.

Kind of Like Spitting: Afraid of Crushes

Today made eight years without my dad. Usually this day is the hardest day of the year. Being productive and having good feedback made me not think it about as much. No doubt, it gets easier but the pain will never go away.

I got great feedback on my bike culture final. No one had anything bad to say which was really awesome considering most of the class had bad criticism on other students' pieces.

Clicking with the male gender is frightening. I'll tread slowly I suppose.

The way your hair fell across your eyes spoiled my plans to never fall again. And when in vain I said so plain, that I could love, love that face hold those hands, love that place, make big plans. She almost cried. And is it alright if I bury myself in your charms? And is it alright if I swear to you without a sound? How odd behaved in situations like these, I can't believe that I'm here I can't believe that you'd care. And if or rather when it all goes wrong will I retain any dignity at all? Unlike the last one under a cold sun. Unlike the last one. I almost died. Is it alright if I bury myself in your charms? And is it alright if if swear to you without a sound?

258.

Going back to Cincinnati was extremely necessary. Not only did it remind me of why I left in the first place, but also of the people I really care about. It was weird sleeping in a room that's mine but not really mine. I visited my old house and the new owner showed us the new additions and fixes. I didn't really want to see all the changes they made because most of them my dad wanted. My family is actually proud of me for once. It seems that up until this point, I was just another person in the room but for once they noticed that I'm actually doing what I want to do and I'm doing well.

I'm really glad you're back in my life. l wish I could say that we'll never stray again, but that seems to be our cycle. For some reason I dream about you when I sleep next to you, I wish I knew why. We talked about a lot of important things and some not so important things. Even though I kept remembering why we stopped being friends, I kept remembering why you were in my life in the first place.

Three weeks left of this semester. Three weeks to shoot, print, spot, and matte. I'm going to be working my ass off.