Twentysomething

For the time being, exploration begets new possibilities - tremendous opportunities to get lost, to stop and imprison the moments in my viewfinder, to escape into the oblivion of motion-speed.

What if our lives are lived only once?  What happens if we never return to the moment of first discoveries – will our actions have meaning if it falls to the slumber or forgetting?

God, do all actors complain about their profession?  I thought writers were bad, but most writers are introverted; actors, however, like to share their pain, their angst, their sacrifice

Pree emailed from South America today. That bitch.  He's taking off before heading back to Columbia B in the fall.  His plans in place, he's free to go buckwild and implode in ecstatic carefree-ness this month.  His hitchiking stories sounds absurdly inspiring and all the

There is something sad, forlorn and mournful about Jesus, hanging on his tree, stretched muscles and sinews, ribs exposed and staring at the ivy covered brownstone next to graffitied factories under a gray clouded Brooklyn night, with no one to talk to. It seemed to me an error in reasoning

"I'll be your fire escape where you sit and think about your day..." - The Postal Service - Brand New Colony