crushed

© Mary Ellen Mark/Marianne Boesky Gallery. Falkland Road

Untitled 1
The weirdest things seduce me.. the most innocuous conversations, the revelations of slung on the shoulder sweetness, the stance of the outsider casually and fatally filled.. and after that nothing else is required... I seduce myself with the right song, the remembered and made-up gesture, hair that catches leftover sunlight and the right movie to tie it all up and to unravel myself..

Untitled 2
We cannot flatten our cities, lives, habits, inclinations, desires for the purpose of study quite so easily, though this is not without trying. We often have - offered up organizations, project, research thesis that seek to unpack and reveal and wryly wonder how it is that what we talk about, words we travel with and by, stand up for and stack up on shelves do not seem all that real to our lives. But perhaps it is after having done that jaded detour, that the sheet crumples up and we have no scope but to read only the fragments that are visible. The flattenned city is crushed.

Untitled 3
I am curious
what are the limits of allowance
how much do I hop in and out
and how much tits and ass
is permissible here

I am bored.
this used to intrigue me..