I end up writing about days so late in the night that "Day 70" is probably about Day 69, and "Day 69"...
/shrug. Oops.]
My mind was completely blown away; I didn't realize the greatness of the internet and the images it holds until today. Isn't that silly? 2010. Where the fuck have I been?
I recently signed up for a Flickr account (if I decide to touch that digital camera Dad gave me). After today's GIS-ing "cigarette girl polaroid", I now have a tumblr account too -- as if I led such an interesting life to begin with.
I didn't realize the amount of blogs and junk floating around. It boggles my mind and makes me feel old. [This gat-dang new fangled blog-ing thing! /waves cane around]
Whenever I discover a blog site, I always want to sign up, so I can have my own place to design... make my "own" but in reality, maybe I'm just an attention whore and have no reason to be blogging except for discussing my life, which as I've said: is not at all that interesting to begin with.
It's like I'm trying to design my own room on the Internet -- one that represents me!
Reading/skimming through blogs makes me both happy & depressed. Happy because most images I come across are ones I like. [Why the hell would I read a blog that I don't like?] Photos in these blogs are made up of simple landscapes, still life photography, rotary phones, skinny models with cigarettes, hipster clothing, small apartments, mattresses, bright colors, floral patterns, messy hair, the smell of musky sweat whiskey-breath, smooth legs and firm breasts, typewriters & ink, polaroids, pumps, a cup of--oh fuck, I could go on forever...
At the same time, I get depressed knowing:
1. I'll never be a skinny white model -- I could never get myself to live that sort of life.
2. The people in the regular pretty photos are my age or younger and they blog about a wilder life than I... and they are happy with it. ["Wilder": they live on their own, with their own decisions; they are not rich, but life is wonderful.]
3. Even though I'll never be a skinny white model, I'm not pretty enough for "artsy" photos of myself.
4. Photography is not something I am skilled at.
5. I am not surrounded by anything quirky to be photographed. Anything quirky must be driven to and costs money; money that I don't have.
Photos from the internet... stories of other peoples' lives...
You are the bittersweet amelioration to my life.
I want to stand on rooftops
disheveled hair
cigarette between my fingers
Just how hungry would I be then?
No comments:
Post a Comment