About Passion

I don't think I'm a not happy person, I actually experience so much happiness, and joy, I'm pretty sure that when I age more the lines on my face would me smile and laughter lines, and not grumpy sad lines. I was thinking about passion and happiness and I don't think that they are opposites of one another. I was trying to think of what is the opposite of passion and though my first word was "depression" that wasn't so right either, cause I do know people who are very happy in their lies and lack any kind of passion.

I think the opposite of passion in contentment.

And though I am a happy person, at least some of the time, I'm not really content, almost never at least. maybe when I'm asleep, though not when I dream. I don't think my discontentment comes from not liking where I am or not being happy with my life, but from always wanting more and always feeling like I'm not doing enough, not being enough.

A Dream

Last night I dreamed.

We were at an event, maybe a concert or an art show or backstage fashion week or something.

We both had cameras and were shooting faster and faster.

Then you came over, tilting my camera and unscrewing my lens, you connected it to your camera and went on shooting. I yelled after you "I need that, I'm shooting to" but you already disappeared in the crowed and you didn't hear me.

Last night, we were laying in bed, in the darkness. I was doing the math in my head, when did we have sex last, who innitiated, what are my chances of tempting you with my body, what are my chances of getting rejected. I kiss you and slide my tongue in your mouth.

You hug me and tell me you are afraid. We talk, about comfort zones, about the past, about family and art, we laugh and breath together. We worry about money, we worry about getting old.

Eventually, you start breathing slowly and fall asleep.

I stay awake, and worry some more, thinking about putting this art thing on a lower flame and start looking for a job. I listen to your slow breath when I jurk off.

Beautiful people

Day dreaming about perfect red nails and perfect orange lipstick. Of laughter and sparkles and silk stockings with a black line in the back. Of heart shape lockets and orange blossom smell.

There's a dark brown stain on my hand, I don't know if it's blood or paint. I want to change, I'm scared to change. It always feel like either it's too early or too late.

Tears in public

Not that I'm sad, not exactly.

Just stressed and overly excited and full to the brim with emotions.

I love and hate this feeling at the same time. Flying to close to the sun. I might burn out or fall and smash to pieces, but the view is painfuly beautiful.

Fragile

Like a thin glass ball full to the brim with water and feel like every movment, every harsh word spoken out of place, every minute shift will make the glass sutter into a million pieces and the water to flow in all direction.

Ned is sitting across from me, writing an e-mail on his phone. We are both tired and have no energy or will to communicate. He woke up at 2:00 today. I woke up at noon.

On of those nasty days of longing. Of wishing to be different then who I am. Of memories sounding louder in my mind then the noises of current reality. Of grasping at straws and trying to keep my head above water.

Printing Seminar

Trying to follow the words, technical terms and powerpoint slideshow. Honestly, I don't understand any of it. Could it be that I never knew all this or is it that I'm too tired and too occupide with my own thoughts and feeling to let any new information it?!

I feel like a kid sitting in on an adult dinner, trying to be a grown up and follow a conversation, but actually getting lost in the mummble of conversation.

FWNY

Today we went to Bryant park to shoot backstage at the "twinkle" show. We only had one pass so I had to stay out while Ned went in.

I waited at the "waiting tent" where there was a long line of people waiting to get into the show, a bunch of random people who went inside to see what it was all about, and of course - a million people with cameras, video cameras, microphones and notebooks all covering this event.

Even though there are 4 bouncers in the entry and a big sign saying "no entry without invites" that apply to the event and not to this waiting area, so really anyone who wants to go inside can, I think, however that the 4 bouncers and sign makes it so that people just don't go in. I however did.

It felt very much like the duty free area in an airport - a lot of companies logos, and stuff that looked like stores, but didn't really sell anything, just promoted stuff, people walking around feeling sort of lost and trying to look like they are having a good time, while at the same time look nonchalant about actually having ot wait in line. A bunch of waitresses in company T-shirts walked by with trays of drinks, mineral water is some fancy packaging and some weird looking candy.

I really hated being there, there was something really humiliating in knowing that Ned could go somewhere i couldn't and that I was stuck in this 3D advertising poster for 2 hours. I walked around and around the line that was forming and growing and shot the crowd.

The one really cool thing was that people in the tent knew there were going to be photographers in, and that if they look all beautiful, they might make it into some magazine \ blog \ newspaper. So unlike anywhere else, when they noticed a camera pointing at them, they turned and gave a huge smile instead of turning away like most people do when they notice someone take their photo.

All those logos and posters made me really depressed, I was facing the sad fact that this whole event is not about fashion, but about money and commercializing, about selling stuff, and more then that, about creating that desire to buy stuff in the huge crowd that's not even taking part in this event. It made me want ot erease my memory card and not use any of the photos, because I'm helping promote this shit just by posting them online or using the words "fashion week" to describe them.

Eventually my compromise was to crop out or retouch all the logos out of my photos. I'm not fully happy with that, but I guess I want to show my photos more then doing right as far as ideals goes.

So much stuff!

Everything seems to be going so fast those past couple of days, and at the same time, the beginning of the week seem like a lifetime ago. I can't remember when i last wrote in this blog, though I'm sure it wasn't that long ago. Between facebook and flickr it feels sort of strange to report about everything that's going on again, but I think that it'll clear my head a bit so I'll try and write some of it.

It seem that all this effort to go out more, socialize and interact with people is starting to pay off, also, it really helps me be more friendly and conduct my online work interaction better. It's also at least in part thanks ot Bob, the guy who's the teacher at the Sale's class Ned and I are taking.

So, there is a lot of exciting news!

First of all, I'm going to teach a class in etsy next month, it's going to be a demonstration of drawing on cups and will be broadcast in their chat, so people all around the world can follow! the coolest thing is how once thing led to another with this - I did an order for the company who makes the paints I'm using then the nice woman from the paint company asked me about the class and of course I agreed. It's going to be wonderful! though I'm just going ot not think about it so I don't get too stressed.


Second, Ned and I just had a really great meeting at a huge advertising agency today, with the guy who's the head of their print department, I don't know if it'll lead ot anything (though if id does that would be the best thing in the world) but it was really great to sit in am eeting and feel like I have my shit together.

Third, Ned and I are shooting some of the fashion week backstage shows - we did one on Thursday and another one tomorrow, I've had an excellent time on the first and got massive amount of photos that I like. Tomorrow we are shooting in the Briant park tents, I'm a little nervous, hoping we will not have problems with getting in, and hoping to have an amazing time, and take a lot of photos.

Also, I just got a new lens and made banana bread today (first attempt at real baking in oh, maybe 6 years...)

Pastis

I have a love-hate relationship with this place. I think I love it, but I hate myself when I'm here. It brings out all my insecurities, all those "not good enough" feelings.

I would have loved it here if I were a different person.

Waiting for a meeting partner who's late, having coffee at the bar. People watching while Ned is talking on the phone, feeling small and unimportant.

Excited

We might get a pass to shoot backstage in fashion week, for a new style trending online magazine. I'm excited and really hope it works out. It feels so out of my life routine, but I know Ned can take some really great shots for this.

Not letting myself get fully excited about this yet, because I'm scared to be too disappointed if it doesn't work out.

Sweetness

I'm working on a little project that's sort of a sum of an e-mail conversation I had with an old friend about gender. I guess it's about letting myself embrace a more girly and silly part within myself. While at the same time being very aware of the guilt, the anxiousness, the discontent and lose of personal voice that happened when one identify oneself (and other) by their gender.

I'm not sure what I want, or how to get it, or if this even relevant. I guess the solution is that there's no solution and that all anybody can do is be aware of their feelings, their needs and wants and who they are.

Hungry

Sitting at egg waiting for food.

Ned is busy, he's sending an e-mail about the shoot later today, we are both tired, and nervous, on edge.

I feel constantly hungry those days. And no matter what I eat it would not go away.

Hungry for food, for meat, for candy, for sugar, for beer, for whiskey, for sex, for attention, for effection, for money and approval.

The phone woke me up this morning, A number I didn't recognized and before I picked up, it was gone. Still trying to figure out who it was and what they wanted.

Today, I don't want to be the hero, I want to be the princess.
Fuck it all, I guess I just want a drink.

Proud of myself

In that half sensear half looking down on myself way that I get when doing something that's hard for me, but that is easy to others.

This morning we were supposed to go hang some art in an exhibition in Chelsea, it was an open show - just bring your art and put it on the wall.

Then Ned woulden't wake up. He fall asleep only a few hours before. After an hour I decided to go on my own instead of waiting till he wakes up and we miss our chance for wall space.

I didn't quite know where the show is, or how will I manage hanging the art and interaction. Eventually on the way I had to tell myself that if I get there even just to see the art, I'm good, and I didn't fail just to get myself going.

Eventually, I did put up Ned's photos and my deawings.

Not hanging as nice as I wanted, not getting a space as good as I wanted but it was up there, on the wall eventually.

While that was going on, I talked to  a bunch of other artists, a guard, an Israeli girl looking for a hammer and a writer for the Art section of the New York time

Touch

A couple of days ago, right before going to sleep, I remembered a game I had to play in gym class at school. I can't remember what the rules were, or how it was played, but there was a ball, and touching.

Sort of like tag, but with a ball.

The touch was this grip of the shoulder, or back. Not a tap, but sort of like a reasuring hold.

Tag, you are it.

I've been thinking about that touch, then I contact, or not. Not loving, not friendly, not with any intention in it but moving the game forward. And yet, there was something very comforting about it.

We are players, we are equale, we are both playing the same game, we both know the rules.

Tears in public

Beacause the music is so sad, a high pitch faminin voice, sweet and mournful.

Because I can't block the fear today, not with thoughts, or words, or stories.

Because I'm burning too hot, too fast, and can't put down the fire, and I feel like I'm falling, falling.

Words words words

Running through my brain, crawling under my skin, around me, block me from the world, protect me.

Names of places, imaginery and real. Phrases, whole paragraphes from books I read and forgot long ago, fragments of conversations, from the past and from now.

Too many random thoughts. Like standing in the middle of traffic, not able to focus long enough to cath the right bus or train to take me away from all of this.