(you're too sweet)

and four hours later I did push myself in {
1 hour on prince st
2 hours on bowery
1 hour on spring st.
was that stupid?
} and inside. actually, it was great, it was nice, perhaps spectacular.

three years ago some time around this time I wrote down the location of a tag in boston, somewhere around nec, the christian science museum, et cetera cetera cetera. the composition looked nice. delillo's moonman 157, from, underworld with an appropriate kertesz photo on front.

In the corner of the third floor of the building: a sixteen-year old kid and a forty-year old guy standing watching people (obviously create-ors); a young kid outside with a paint marker asking me if I wrote.

and: i mean: cellphone cameras, digital cameras. not even people photos. photography as masturbatory exertion internalized, a sort of inverse territorial marking, light sucked into the camera. p&s point-and-shit. it's the digital age, camcordering-photographing of the mona lisa age. what did sontag say? something like a perverse work ethic realized as procedural collecting, vicarious scavenging.

idea: inspired by 'blind camera' - a reflexive action, records expression, feet, sky, anything else but the image. or the lens is a squirt gun spraying a mist of garbage-water, a speaker spewing out vulgarities, shining a photons from a light scavenged from dumpsters. of ideological distaste?

what to photograph: no landscapes, no subject matters, no macro photography. moma had some really awesome winogrand photographs, no gimmicks, just pure temporal subliming, the sssp of the moment, the edge of a needle, that visceral tactile sense.

oh damn.

two more days.