Saturday, August 29, 2009

howl to the moon

Tomorrow is my 2 week anniversary of ever having been in New Orleans.

In that time, I've already decided on a whim to stay and live here, already been working a job, already secured a great place to live, shed my previous plans, traversed the Louisiana countryside and explored the swamps, outdone myself, had my heart broken, started volunteering at a nonprofit book collective, been a fully functioning resident out of my lone vacation-minded suitcase, and voluntarily turned on the air conditioning for the first time in over two years.

It's hot down here.

I am committed to getting to the bottom of whatever the hell it is that makes this strange other universe called New Orleans so fucking magical. It's a tragic magic. It's a seepy, sultry, ghosty, blues song of a town. And I, for one, am haunted.

My hypothesis is that it must be some combination of the very electric humidity/history which keeps the spirit world hanging in the air. It's thick like a curtain, or a blessing, or a warning, depending on what kind of day you've had.

That and the fact that they don't bury their dead under the ground.

This whole town is howling.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

New Orleans

Series 1, of many.






























Tuesday, August 4, 2009

archives

This is may have been the most important day of my life that I didn't live to experience.

My grandma and my grandma were wed in 1953.

And these, dear friends, are some of the most beautiful images I've ever seen. I couldn't believe they came from old family albums, and had just been collecting dust for years.

Finding these photos means the world to me, because when it comes to true love, my grandparents are my heroes.



















To true love.

the nature of our relationship

is abound with change.

The livelihood of my trusted camera is no more. The camera that I took you to Africa through! The camera that's taken hundreds of pictures of you.

And it'll be awhile before I can keep updating this thing with my adventures through my photos.

However, on the same day my camera broke, I unearthed an archive of other images that tell my story nonetheless.

That and your imagination. This is about to get good, I think.