Blank page. Where are you. The you will always be different. You are different. You haven’t changed at all. greyer, a certain finesse to the temples. Isnt that an odd thing to say, a finesse, to the temples? I mean, what the fuck is that? Does it matter?

Roaming around brooklyn, looking for The Stranger Things Experience at the brooklyn naval yard. A town in itself. Gentrification in full effect. Cafes with six item menus placed blocks apart with working class delis in between. Still early. Come back in five years, it’ll all be vegan burgers and high end boutiques. The “experience” itself fun, kinda slick, but you look at it too closely, overpriced and kitsch. You need to give yourself into those things. You need to suspend your anti-capitalist tendencies and just give into it. it is what it is. Expensive and overrated.

But who cares goddammit. I’ve turned fifty. I want to be a child again. I’m really not going to go down without a fight. Fuck that. The past five days, the constant mantra, take a serious picture, come on, grow up. That’s the point everyone, I’ve grown up already, this is not the way I want to be remembered. I want every photograph to be a disruption to your sensibilities and expectations of age, of time, of me. Time will not beat me because it already has beaten me. Like that Jack White songs, time, takes takes takes.

I’m going to give it a fistful. I’m going to laugh in its face.