seeing beyond sight

Seeing Beyond Sight illuminates the surprising power and creative potential of photography in an astonishing collection of images created by visually impaired teenagers. I picked this up for two measly dollars in the used book section of my city's library. After I finished reading it, I didn't know how to feel; I felt like a complete toy/tool/ fucking failure. These were some of the most astounding photos I had ever seen.

To the right is the same photo that was used on the cover of this book, to the credit of a thirteen year old boy.
Pick this up if you ever have the chance, I hope it makes you feel something.

"I was thinking

that it would be
sort of hard
for a blind person
to take pictures,
but it's not very hard.
You've just got to
listen."
-John V.

she doesn't bother with goodbyes.

she was tearing her hair out.
Originally uploaded by another year ∞

i took a bus to this city and thought back on some things my grandmother told me. She said they put a soul in everybody, and I started to believe that maybe some invisible hand peeled back my skin and cracked my ribs and poured mine into me. And somewhere along the line, back when we were kings, I was careless and tore a gash in my chest because it's become clear that I've been letting it spill out for the past year and a half. I know I haven't been able to steady my hand for about a week, but I had this dream that a blue jay found its resting place on the concrete beneath me. I swear it was screaming, but I couldn't make out what it meant to tell me. I took a plane to this city and studied a picture of the subway. I was astounded that a cartographer spent his days mapping a world based around synergy, and remembered that in this very same bus seat, I met a girl with the most honest eyes I'd ever seen. She gave me a flower and said to always keep it with me. It still sits on my dresser; it watches me while I sleep. I know I haven't looked you in the eyes for a week or so, but I have this reoccurring dream that you might die of an overdose, and I can't shake the image of you there, cold and alone. All I wanted was the 4:17 bus to downtown and to watch the night turn buildings blue, but the woman across the aisle from me is crying. "I'm so sorry, Miss, but there's nothing I can do."

winter dies the same way every spring.
so between a misinterpretation of the "Left and Leaving" album
and this microcosm of my own confusion,
maybe I should consider phoning her.

"We just needed a week to really... find ourselves, you know?" - Zack Jewelinski

Haven't been to school in a week, this is beginning to become a problem. We're not meant for this life, some are. As for us, we failures belong making things and getting our ideas stolen. I spent most of today inhaling bleach out of boredom, thanks to my roommate Ben.

Tomorrow we leave for the bottom of California thus beginning Kyle and my glass blowing apprenticeship. I feel like a preteen pretending not to be scared shitless right before getting on a gnarly roller coaster. This is going to get ridiculous. 

If your still alive, you don't need any advice.

I've been reading excerpts from Charles Bukowski's appropriately titled collection of poetry, " You Get So Alone Sometimes That It Just Makes Sense," in which he writes about the hopelessness of the human condition. In said book, he lists a series of great writers and painters and poets and discusses all of their lowest moments ( Van Gogh, Hemingway, etc.). He keeps repeating the quote, " the impossibility of being human." I looked up more Bukowski, and his gravestone includes his name, dates of birth and death, and the simple quote. " Dont Try "

Mental note: write Bukowski's descendants a letter, and Mr. Bukowski, thanks for the advice.

See, all of this encompassing and violent feeling of defeat leaves me waking up every morning and saying " Really Life, Again? "

Signing off, I'm late for work again.