photography_is_a_sad_hobby kerry today johanna gave me one of the pictures from homecoming last november. seven of us standing in a V on some stairs, close with arms around each other and the photographer [jo's sister] was standing at the top of the stairs above us, and i was in the middle of the V. all of us with some lipstick and nice clothes, pretty soft shining hair, sparkling eyes. because we were listening to a song off a new mix she'd gotten and didnt know what it was, and in the photo everyone was womanly, and at the same time very very young. low-necks, pale skin, there were 7 pairs of breasts and somehow that was the most innocent thing about it to me, johanna's looking 20 but the fact that i know she's not only makes it even sadder and we will grow up and separate, and forget this picture ever even existed. and walking through the woods with jo and her cousin, listening to her tell jo about that time she tried acid and how she talked to her friend about the world and religion and how it's bullshit, and God and things they'd never thought before, i almost laughed. but i knew it would offend her, so i held it back. just that i know, entirely, [not how it feels to be on acid but] how it is to feel so enlightened, and all of a sudden you see everything clearly and everything is True and you know exactly every lie anyone's ever tried to tell you. and i know that other teenagers, all over the world, are thinking the exact same thing. how they are maturing, how Reality, and Life, are finally becoming Real and Unveiled, because "religion, all religion, is the same" and yatta yatta, about the government, and it is so funny to see everybody so excited to realize all this honest-to-goodness truth in a world that is suddenly so filthy and tainted. because when we were kids they told us we'd run out of water if we left the faucets on, and they told us the electron configuration around a cell went 2-8-8, and all of this is untrue. and the fact that our county's school superintendent earns more money than the president... all of this stems from that one picture and it's a different kind of sad than what i usually feel, the sluggish ornery pity-sad. it's heavy and thick and brooding, and it smells really bad. 030502 ... fyngula again she astounds us by the way she colors within the black lines and her arti complete when i look at it. excellent writing kerry_monami. 030502 ... kerry[monami] thank you 030503 ... guitar_freak Sometimes I look through photo albums of my childhood. I see a little girl in little pink clothes bending at the waist to bury her whole head in a sweet red rose. I see a little girl experiencing her first christmas, birthday, and easter. I see her being cradled in the arms of young parents, grandparents, and people she has never met. Countless events, tears, and smiles lay out before me in a photo album. This little girl experiencing all these things is me, but where was I? Today I don't remember the days those pictures were taken. I don't remember telling my mommy that I could feed myself or hitting my brother or smelling that beautiful red rose. I have so few memories of long ago. The pictures hold my life story of my childhood. I remember the last few years and the events that transpired. The years where I was drinking and doing drugs are rather hazy, but I remember some things very clearly- especially if I see a picture. The days before that are memories of images. The pictures tell the story, the memories are far removed from my reality. I can recall an event or two from ages 5-10 when I see a picture. Before that the photographs of a little girl mean nothing. The girl could be me, but I don't remember. 040215 ... nom i think i know how you feel in some small way i've been trying to remember i've spent a lifetime forgetting i rarely talk about my childhood with my family i avoid talking about my childhood with my family i avoid talking with my family i avoid talking i avoid some things i can't forget somethings i can't anyone mentions anything before seven i tend to freeze, before five and i leave i can't stand to listen to the news some days i'm planning on organizing my family pics, i bought a whole bunch of albums 040215 ... some days i have a terrible habit of regretting almost everything i blather, including the above about not wanting to remember in some ways i'm glad i don't have many early pictures, in other ways i wish there was more so i could reconstruct the missing moments in some ways i'd be glad if they deleted all these words i've spilled regret is sickening, in many ways 040215 ... eatpaper sometimes i look at all these pictures and wonder if this actually happened. how well do i remember it besides just remembering that it happened? some pieces of conversation and smells in the air and the texture of what was around us, i just don't remember it. after these pictures are gone, who is going to remember all these beautiful thoughts and moments? i can't forget, i would lose a part of myself if i did. 040215 ... mcdougall Every picture I watch slowly drip dry Feels like a knife into my heart The thoughts of everyone I know The pain we all feel. I wish I could take it all away With the flash and the shutter snap Capture all our pain And store it in a photograph I would keep that roll of film And never let it get away Never to be developed but Just like Pandora’s Box It’s destined to be opened Developed and printed and seen. All my pain and all our pain Can never go completely away Like blood from the knifes The water slowly falls to the ground But these wounds, they aren’t healing And I think they never will. . i miss you kerry . 040217 ... kerry ah mcdougall, i miss you too. 040218 ... megan yet another memory is kept and freeze dried for future reference photographs are rarely real. people always smiling, having a good time, bad times are hardly ever shown. who wants to have a scrapbook that says "billy's first f" and "janie's big heartbreak". the people of the future are going to be terribly confused as to how we got so happy all the time 040623 ... cocoon Getting confused. You see a picture of yourself, and you think you remember when it was taken, and what it was about - but you dont. You just think you do. You just want to. 040624 ... falling_alone the same is with an old story, why are you the only one who can't remember? and you hate to see their faces, eagerly describing this event saying "do you remember..." "remember when..." you hate to disapoint, so you smile listen and absorb the details try to picture everything in your mind and pretend. 040624 ... so smile take_a_picture, give it a go 041112 ... .nom i should get a new camera 050217 what's it to you? who go blather from