on remembering to look up

So the bindle is two years old today. How about that? When it was born I was living on wasabi peas, drinking myself to sleep every night on a mattress on the floor of a bare room. These words and sounds and images were a desperate attempt to communicate with a world that didn’t particularly care.

But life is a wild thing. Perpetually shifting and uncertain, each fading sunset could be replaced by absolutely anything. It’s so god damn beautiful — casually, constantly, like it’s nothing. Whenever I remember to pick my head up out of myself, there it is: So vivid, so bright, so saturated with light and sound and sensation.

Sandwiched between billions of years of darkness and endless nothing, this tiny riot of existence is unbelievable. Some days it’s so much I can’t stand it.

Some days it’s hard to be a cynic.

Joshua Clark Orkin

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my time with philipo

This video is a tiny slice of hundreds of hours, back and forth between Dar es Salaam and Vikindu. We made this trip over, and over, and over, and over again, the soundtrack to Drive on heavy rotation via headphones for a good chunk of it. As substance abuse and my relationship spiraled simultaneously out of control, existence in Tanzania took on an increasingly surreal and cinematic aspect. You’re getting an authentic taste here:  Me and Philipo, coming back from work.  We only ever spent time together like this, in transit for money, me speaking to the back of his nervous head.  In hindsight he was one of my best friends.

water damage

Filmed off a dock at Cayuga Lake, then edited in my bedroom.  For a while my computer was just a machine for playing this on repeat.

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