Vincent van Gogh.
So I always get told to step back from the Van Gogh painting at museums. The brush stokes suck me in!
So with my Drowned Man itch never to be scratched again and Sleep No More interest waning, I need a new obsession. For the first time in three years nothing is drawing me anywhere. As someone who lives in a not so small town in Iowa, I need something to keep me going; something to look forward to. It’s not there and the absence is freaking me out. So dear followers ( you are few but I love everyone of you) , go! Inbox me , reblog, smoke signal.
Another batch of early run TDM photos. As thefoolsloop pointed out, these are professional and I didn’t take them - I’ve never taken photography or videos inside Temple Studios. One time I took a notebook in, thinking I’d take notes, and then instantly forgot it for the whole duration of the show and never tried again.
These really are some of the best pictures of TDM. And oh how I miss David Essing.
So the night was going fine till the end. Life seems to love to slap my in the face to remind me that I’m old. Yeah 36! Fuck this!
I keep wandering the forest of indecision, hoping for a glimmer in the distant pond. I wade out into the water looking for the knife to stab into the heart of my former self so that I can emerge from the pond new: clean and reborn. Instead I sink to the sandy bottom, reaching for that glimmering hope. A drowned man.
Hecate on an Altoid tin! Curiously strong mints that bring tears to your eyes.