"Photography, probably more than any other medium, is emblematic of the nature of modern Western society. Photographs are concerned chiefly with appearances, they are deceptively nuanced but essentially narrow, yet somehow they find great breadth in their mechanization and ubiquity. And, like our society, they tend towards an ultimate reduction of the dimensionality of time. Through photographs the past blends into the present, flattening into an omni-present "now" in which history loses its philosophical weight as it increases in familiarity. In a sense photographs are the ultimate invention of a humanist-capitalist society: they provide the commodification of memory itself!" (friedrich--some guy who commented on a book selling on Amazon)

Maybe it's the dim lighting, he seemed to look much more youthful at bar none. Sure he is still as skeletal, but there's more vigour in his steps. Joe took his seat so he stood next to me during the gig till it was time for him to catch the last bus. The last time I saw him was at MICA in the midst of an experimental performance. While the crowd was swaying to Serenaide's pop jangles, he watched gravely with his arms folded. His gestures seemed to be saying "it's a waste of my time," but I could be wrong. There is lots to be done but there is nothing driving me to do anything on a windless, humid night like this. I'm wasting my own time. Recalling trivials like this helps to kill time.

I think there's something wrong with me. I have been talking in my sleep and my patience alternate as if I'm schizo. I know i'm a slavedriver yet I am so slack. I think I stink; I really do.