GLOSS - I speak american…the language of 3am french fries and photoshoots with hottees and homeless men in McDonalds…
Sugardisaster
Sugar Disaster was created in the spirit of adventure and discovery. More than just these photos of all the beautiful peoples I have met around the world, the wondrously mysterious places I’ve roved to and from, and all the amazingly humbling experiences I’ve managed to have had my camera lens off for, but the experiences themselves were “taken” in such a way as to promote Einstein’s Theory of Unification, to which I am a wholly a subscriber.
Thank you and enjoy.
“ The last lines that Vonnegut wrote, in his last book, go thus: When the last living thing
Has died on account of us,
How poetical it would be
If Earth could say,
In a voice floating up
Perhaps
From the floor
Of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.
Has died on account of us,
How poetical it would be
If Earth could say,
In a voice floating up
Perhaps
From the floor
Of the Grand Canyon,
“It is done.”
People did not like it here.
Requiem for Polaroid »
From the Requiem for Polaroid article in the upcoming HESO Issue on Obsessions
Et Pour Moi…Tokyo’s crazy, but good. Though after a while of prowling the backalleys and neon-lit boulevards, the tiny 5-seat bars and the swanky Roppongi clubs, the Ginza haute couture, the Harajuku freak show cosplay and the Kabukicho sexshops you slowly start to realize there is a disease most people have that they live with in silent submission - the look-busy-while-not-actually-doing-all-that-much-disease. Though I do realize this sickness could be an epidemic in the making in every major metropolis, I find the Japanese have particularly bad strain of the virus. The disease is spreadable by coming in contact with too many hungover salarymen, commuting via the wide network of sardine-can packed commuter trains everyone hypnotized by their supercharged mobile phones (keitai) and/or the latest ipod, knowing perverts (chikan) feel up Louis Vuitton ensconced women on said trains and not doing anything about it, working 3 parttime jobs (freetah), milling about in coffee shops between jobs, snapping photos of people who I think I’ll never see again, yet constantly do, tumbling around Shibuya with the rich teenagers and buying beers and Chinese Tangerines (mikan) for the bums laid up against Gap and Banana Republic, seeing the multitudes of unmarried men pouring out of sexshops open for business right behind Police stations (koban), probably where the police go as well, turning down whale sashimi (kujira) for the nth time but giving in on the horse sashimi (basashi) because it’s too good what with the garlic and ginger, Suntory whiskey and egg breakfasts at 6 in the morning at people’s shoebox apartments you barely know, yet somehow share a camaraderie with, slowly watching the price of tuna (maguro) rise above the price of gas and ordering some anyway, eating it with disposable chopsticks (waribashi) made from yet another clearcut forest in Southeast Asia which adds to the flooding of 1/3rd of Bangladesh, and overall getting blinded by the neon so all this blurs together into a kind of silent beautiful despair. Rife with the gooey, sexy, glossy stuff, Tokyo is an addiction. I’m mainlining.
Solicon –noun
Interface through which one (a Soliconer) logs into the sun’s neuro-retinal portals, communicting with other users via light.
Dre in the WIntersun…Another outtake from the first HESO Magazine photo shoot out at Sugao Waterfall in Kitakyushu, Fukuoka Prefecture. Model: Dre
The new issue Heroes is out now.
