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♦ CRPhotography ♦ CRLiterature ♦
♦ communityrelations ♦

Photography Portal

Words?

So by now you've probably noticed I'm not around much. It happens.

My life has gravitated elsewhere. "Elsewhere" is this weird and wonderful place of reading tarot semi-professionally, growing okra, playing cards every Wednesday with my 78-year-old great aunt Annette over a bottle of moonshine, owning roughly half of a rapidly growing art-oriented web startup , and trying to find a local beer I don't hate since I've moved cross-country and they don't sell my brand here.

It isn't that I dislike DA. It isn't that my experiences here weren't important, or fun most of the time. The place just has a lot of memories, some good and some terrible, and logging in feels a bit like putting on a backpack full of cinder blocks and jumping in a lake. There are people here I miss, but there are also people here I'd rather never speak to again (you know who you are! )

I've also hit this weird place artistically where I know my past work was driven by emotions so extreme that they pulled me into the perfect headspace for creating meaningful work. Now I've felt those highs and lows and landed somewhere in the middle. Turns out the middle doesn't have that same level of visceral need for catharsis that the poles have. I am not creating, because I have no need to create; instead I'm experiencing, doing, and trying to find new paths to the same feelings. Those paths, to date, have not involved a camera or a pen. They've involved volunteering for the church, meditating on tree limbs beside creeks in the forest, finding the perfect recipe for kimchi, re-learning how to smile and laugh and frown and cry in the pace of everyday living.

Oh, and I vape now, because cigarettes are like $19 a pack here because God must fucking hate me.

So I might be back, in some capacity, to some degree of regularity, some day. I'm not ruling out the possibility that art won't seize me and I won't feel the need to resurface with a vengeance the next time I sit on the wrong dick or whatever. That day's not today, though. Even though I miss you this place isn't my home anymore. And I'm not entirely gone - you can still find me on the chat network in and once in a while.

I'm also no longer a volunteer and haven't been for like two months or more now, so while I do appreciate the tags to close your forum shitposts, they can stop any fucking time, y'all.

Here, have a feature for old time's sake:

Browse By Newest, vFINAL

.... No. You know what? Newest photography was literally a picture of a ballsack and 14 pictures of Taylor Swift. Here, have some actual curated content. You all deserve better from me than that actual fecal matter. If I can leave you with one message, it is to remember: Not all art is good art, not all of what you see is art, and shit is shit, period. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, sing the chorus of "Beds Are Burning" and kick them in the fucking taint. For the sake of culture.

Peace, bitches.

:) (Smile) — Description
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♦ CRPhotography ♦ CRLiterature ♦
♦ communityrelations ♦

Photography Portal

Words?

So by now you've probably noticed I'm not around much. It happens.

My life has gravitated elsewhere. "Elsewhere" is this weird and wonderful place of reading tarot semi-professionally, growing okra, playing cards every Wednesday with my 78-year-old great aunt Annette over a bottle of moonshine, owning roughly half of a rapidly growing art-oriented web startup , and trying to find a local beer I don't hate since I've moved cross-country and they don't sell my brand here.

It isn't that I dislike DA. It isn't that my experiences here weren't important, or fun most of the time. The place just has a lot of memories, some good and some terrible, and logging in feels a bit like putting on a backpack full of cinder blocks and jumping in a lake. There are people here I miss, but there are also people here I'd rather never speak to again (you know who you are! )

I've also hit this weird place artistically where I know my past work was driven by emotions so extreme that they pulled me into the perfect headspace for creating meaningful work. Now I've felt those highs and lows and landed somewhere in the middle. Turns out the middle doesn't have that same level of visceral need for catharsis that the poles have. I am not creating, because I have no need to create; instead I'm experiencing, doing, and trying to find new paths to the same feelings. Those paths, to date, have not involved a camera or a pen. They've involved volunteering for the church, meditating on tree limbs beside creeks in the forest, finding the perfect recipe for kimchi, re-learning how to smile and laugh and frown and cry in the pace of everyday living.

Oh, and I vape now, because cigarettes are like $19 a pack here because God must fucking hate me.

So I might be back, in some capacity, to some degree of regularity, some day. I'm not ruling out the possibility that art won't seize me and I won't feel the need to resurface with a vengeance the next time I sit on the wrong dick or whatever. That day's not today, though. Even though I miss you this place isn't my home anymore. And I'm not entirely gone - you can still find me on the chat network in and once in a while.

I'm also no longer a volunteer and haven't been for like two months or more now, so while I do appreciate the tags to close your forum shitposts, they can stop any fucking time, y'all.

Here, have a feature for old time's sake:

Browse By Newest, vFINAL

.... No. You know what? Newest photography was literally a picture of a ballsack and 14 pictures of Taylor Swift. Here, have some actual curated content. You all deserve better from me than that actual fecal matter. If I can leave you with one message, it is to remember: Not all art is good art, not all of what you see is art, and shit is shit, period. If anyone tries to tell you otherwise, sing the chorus of "Beds Are Burning" and kick them in the fucking taint. For the sake of culture.

Peace, bitches.