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Nothing happens without momentum.

The good.

Or.

The bad.

It sneaks up quietly.

Pushing from behind.

And

Pulling us forward.

————

I’ve never surfed.

Although I hear from friends.

It borders on the magical.

And although I have never shared these waves.

I understand the addiction.

To momentum.

The hard part.

Is accepting that so little of it.

Has to do with.

Speed.

Or power.

Rather.

It is the consistency.

That you notice.

Like the waves.

That come from behind.

And pull you forward.

———-

Kill the weekend. All of you. My friends.

G

1. Sunlight is free.

2. The cake is always half uneaten.

3. Small cups hold more.

4. Language is a bridge. Not a barrier.

5. It’s always about what’s around the corner.

6. The lower you are. The bigger the world seems.

7. Italians truly do have more fun.

8. Many different paths can lead to the same place.

9. A good life requires much less than we think.

10. Sometimes it is preferable to just hang back.

———-
Kill the weekend.

And the year.

All of you.

Gary

Five Ways.

1. Look up.

2. Trust people.

3. See things for what they want to be.

4. Find light in darkness.

5. Listen to good music often. (preferably live)

Kill the weekend. All of you.

Things either right themselves.

Or fall completely off the spool.

Like this frame.

Funny.

How much I enjoy the imperfection.

Of photography.

—————

This daily crucible.

Is becoming less forgiving.

For.

So many.

—————

This must be a function of my age.

Or.

Our Age.

Because my (shortening) memory.

Tells me.

The wind was once.

Perfect.

Steady.

And.

At our backs.

—————

This legacy we’ve been left.

Feels dead.

And today.

I concede.

My only choice.

Live.

Off the spool.

And struggle for.

Imperfection.
————-

Kill the weekend my friends.

They do better than most.

And that realization

In a fleeing moment.

Can bring more joy.

Than.

All others.

Before.

Or.

After.
————–

I am in the continuous process.

Of prodding my own.

Abilities.

Constantly asking.

Am I good enough.

Am I better.

Than I remember.
—————–

And I have my moments.

Although they seem.

To arise.

With greater infrequency.

When I see.

My own.

Good.
————-

And I think to myself.

(Free from the prison of my own ego)

That.

I may just be better.

Than I was.
—————–

I am sure.

I have only improved.

(in any measurable meaning of that word)

When.

I am not alone.

Surrounded.

By those.

Who are truly better than most.

Many of whom.

Find themselves in my photos.

(Future and Past)

—————
Kill the weekend.

Fixated and dazed.

Staring at the clock.

But it won’t look back.

And.

(I fear.)

It never will.

————-

Patience is a drug.

I’ve been taking.

Since I was a child.

The adult me.

Wants nothing more.

Than to break this addiction.

————–

Will I be.

Dope.

Sick.

My frustration only amplifies the symptoms.

So I look.

Out There.

Because.

Maybe.

There.

Time doesn’t drag.

And ‘patience’.

Is a word that has no meaning.

————–

It is my dream.

To find such a place.

But a dream.

I’m afraid.

Is all it will be.

————

In weakness.

I cannot shake the effects.

Of this opiate.

It.

Is all I have ever known.

So I stay.

Frozen.

Looking.

And.

Patient.

———–

Kill the weekend. All of you.

My dear friends.

G

By loss.

It feels so permanent.

Today.

If someone could tell me.

Why that is so.

That.

Loss comes with permanence.

And.

Gain.

Well, that always comes.

(seemingly)

With a price.

That few of us.

Ever.

Really want.

(Or can)

Pay.

—————
And.

Even worse.

Is.

The frustration.

I feel.

When i can no longer.

Rely.

On my intellect.

To reason.

Myself.

Beyond.

The hurt.
————–

Its like my grandfather told me.

And only recently.

Feels more true.

Than ever before.

Time doesn’t heal.

But it gives distance.

And with distance.

Perspective.

And like life.

Photography continues to remind me.

That moments are fleeting.

And meaning.

Comes almost entirely.

From.

Perspective.

————–

Kill the weekend.

All of you.

G

Never slow down.

Try to keep pace.

Heaven help you.

If you can’t.

If we can’t.

————–

What if everyone decided to stop.

To no longer.

Keep pace.

To race?

Would everyone.

Keep their word.

And for one day.

Act as if.

It has been enough.

————-

That would require.

Faith.

A personality trait.

Desperately deficient.

(I fear)

Hopelessly gone

From inside.

Me.

And i would suspect.

You.

————-

So together.

I’ll take comfort.

As we continue to race.

And with every step.

Shed the last remaining chains.

Of faith.

In each other.

And believe.

We are free.

————

Kill the weekend all of you.

My friends.

Why photography?

Honestly.

My answer.

I don’t know.

(Working on it.)

—————–

I do think about it a lot.

The construction of a moment.

Seems to.

Always transcend.

The destructive march of time.

Or.

To slice something thin.

Can reveal more about its nature.

Than.

Taking it as whole.

—————

I take a lot away.

(More than I ever admit)

From.

Each of these moments.

Even though.

They have an uncanny way.

Of leaving.

More quickly.

Than they came.

————–

So another year is upon me.

(Us)

I’ll be honest.

I’m glad its here.

More chances to.

Construct.

Slice it thin.

Think.

And.

Most importantly.

Kill the weekend.