Inside—with a splash of red.
Filed under Essay.
Héloïse is back in school and I’m not sure what I think. I’m not sure about our other two headed there next week either. I mean, I get it....I do. But holy sh&% am I ever not sure.
Started reading a book about the Beats. Neal Cassady was probably not human. Of course he died in 68, so...I guess he was. We walk we walk yet nothing moves. Yet it all moves madly.
Recorded a new song I feel pretty happy about.
Shot these images on a whim. Only reliable subject around these days.
That red is a puncture.
And nothing’s in focus.
