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fashion photography, art, and prose

the liberties of foreign shores
& floors
made of stone

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MOD post... [25 Dec 2005|11:06am]

photoflood
please make all subsequent posts friends only. thanks! happy holidays to everyone.
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MOD post. [24 Dec 2005|08:35am]

photoflood
i'd just like to thank all the current members. the level of posting is exactly where i want it to be (about one post every other day). there could be a little more commenting, but we're still in a good place. again, THANK YOU so much for putting up with my demands/whims & honestly wanting to stay. i really think we could do something great here. i welcome any suggestions. someone suggested about a week ago that we do themes. what do you all think about that? would you be interested? the theme could apply to subject matter for writing, or photography, or anything really. let me know.
6 didn't answer| ask a question

[23 Dec 2005|09:46pm]

my_art_box
i found some really cool photos. thought i'd share.

(semi-nudity. open with caution.)




swing swing...Collapse )
5 didn't answer| ask a question

flash lights [21 Dec 2005|10:56pm]

dreadforbeauty

6 didn't answer| ask a question

[22 Dec 2005|12:38am]

blo0dstained
This whole time, I was just afraid. Of you, of myself, of our similarities. Of the way we'd feed off of each others insecurities. Sometimes, I get that spontaneous hit of reality whereby, suddenly, "none of that matters anymore; work!school!work!school!" Just as easily snapping back into my intuitive, everyday world, governed by boys & cynicism. Self-destruct, forget, rise again stronger (or maybe just absolved of real thought.) Rinse & repeat. I'm afraid, still. Afraid that I'll never find someone like you, again. Why I'd want someone like you, again, is beyond me. --- I'm lost, but don't get me wrong; I'm content, or at least as close to contentment as someone like me can possibly be.
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[19 Dec 2005|09:47pm]

ohdarling__x


Robert Doisneau, Le Baîser de L'Hotel de VilleCollapse )
8 didn't answer| ask a question

i've been losing sleep. [19 Dec 2005|07:15pm]
oohfeisty
[ mood | awaiting ]

routines

she wakes up & searches for
excuses to think about him.
reasons to justify why every stranger she sees
has his curious eyes.

and systematically, she searches for distractions.
brief encounters & transient moments:
all causing her to forget for an
instant in time.

but every night it's a battle.

those moments prove false & worthless.
in the darkness, they don't matter.

she finds herself staring at the ceiling.
through her measured blinks,
she never fails to realize how increasingly difficult
it has become to miss something she never really had.

she can't sleep.
it's too late, it's too late, it's too late.

time to wake up & follow suit.

///

or this way?Collapse )

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naming [18 Dec 2005|11:57pm]

faegrian_enid
We start with names for everything,
and names convey the love we show
and likewise disregard we hold
for everything we know.

We think on each name carefully,
and sitting up late nights, discuss
what each thing to us seems to be,
and give each name accordingly.

We name the spaces in between
the star-lit nighttime trees,
the songs that we pretend to sing,
the feelings that we need.

But we grow tired of naming things
when things no longer will be named,
when thoughts defy our verbal skill,
but press upon us all the same.

When all our words lay down to rest,
we still sit up, awake.
What is the kiss that fills the space
when words are scared away?


things from my heart always get so technical, but I'm not going to go into it... you'll see what you take time to notice.
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MOD post... [16 Dec 2005|06:44pm]

photoflood
[ mood | no way out ]

okay, seriously. i'm rather aggravated now. i'm sorry i have to do this, but i'm tired of no one posting, or commenting. even if you dont feel comfortable posting your work, at least comment on others'! even if it's just "i really liked that," that's fine! i'm almost sorry i have to do this... you must comment on this entry if you wish to stay in this community. if you choose to stay know that you're agreeing to comment, or post. if you dont i'll remove you. if no one stays, i'll just rebuild and get members from somewhere else. i dont want a huge community, just 100-200 people. we're there now, but our members just dont post. you have (7) days.

EDIT: i apologize if this post offended anyone. that really wasn't my intent. if you honestly enjoy just reading the posts and feel uncomfortably commenting, that's alright. it's just hard moderating such an inactive community. i just really needed to know you all were out there. again, i apologize if this post seemed negative, or forceful. to everyone--- happy holidays!

89 didn't answer| ask a question

subtlety & liberation. [16 Dec 2005|06:33pm]

photoflood
[ mood | ready & moving ]

i do not share your fate. my demons are my own to bear[y], and now having transversed transparent boundaries i find i am barely able to comprehend the (in)consistency [form & inharmonious uniformity] of my former self. the criss-crossed lines [verbal, & metaphysical] i swore were drawn in concrete have been wholly converted to dust (although no appeal to Holiness was uttered). though somber times have passed, the past should not be forgotten, and so i have learned that "i am" is infinately more powerful than "i think" & "i can."

1 didn't answer| ask a question

mod post--- RESPOND!!! [13 Dec 2005|01:38pm]

photoflood
[ mood | concern ]

despite this community having over 100 members, posting is very scarce. i find myself distressed & often confused by this fact. are you out there? is anyone? as co-moderator and creator of this community i feel obligated to either close it down, or somehow increase the number of posting members. i'll be the first to admit that my posting is far from reliable or regular, but is it really so much to ask that once every day (or every few) someone posts something? what do you all think? i do hope you care enough to respond to this post.

14 didn't answer| ask a question

alive & awake, so much is at stake. [13 Dec 2005|01:37pm]

photoflood
[ mood | abatement ]

sugar snap peas & pine trees
please break my vertebrea evenly
i can feel my form free falling
my spine twisting, stalling
bruised conversation
confined & diffused
confusing the views etched into my mind
using intellect in place of emotion & time
i'm so close to an escape
a psychological jailbreak
a pause without subtext,
liability clause, or
cause for alarm
i've refused a call to arms
revenge is a trend
like religious conviction
& ephemeral eating disorder affliction

4 didn't answer| ask a question

a little glamour for you. [06 Dec 2005|11:02pm]

ohtheaftershock


Henri Cartier-Bresson
Read more...Collapse )
6 didn't answer| ask a question

extremities. [03 Dec 2005|03:50pm]

photoflood
[ mood | i never quite know what i mean ]

suffused with frigidity
her seclusion & lack of fluidity blur
black coffee & frozen windshields.
"yield through intersections, fog, & black ice-"
this is the kind of advice that divides sworn allies,
black ties & a brick laced skyline-
a horizon raped of definition & hue.
wear & tear your emotion along your jaw line,
reset your spine to pacific standard time &
bury your borderline paranoia in a heavy black coat
meant to denote an unsteadiness of bone & marrow,
the narrowing of time & somatic frame.
battling common sense &
an intense fear of weight gain,
she waits without aim &
plays civil war games
within her cell walls.
spread beneath a thin layer of skin & morality
mortality breaks us down in the end.
she bends light to suspend her fear of heights,
& a forceful retching of cognition
that despite it's promise of volition
only violates her line of sight &
human rite to love, liberty, and a fulfilling life.

2 didn't answer| ask a question

london [28 Nov 2005|09:48pm]

mark40e
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
hyde park; london
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it's because you're blonde. [12 Nov 2005|09:46pm]

photoflood
[ mood | body dismorphic disorder. ]

she feels the weight of his arms & chest
compressed between his bed & body.
held captive by exhuasted limbs,
she's trapped beneath his fluxing skin.
he penetrates
with shotgun eyes,
contortion & a novel guise.
undress to westward winds.
recidivst rewind,
leave behind your wayward whims &
assassinate your state of mind.

4 didn't answer| ask a question

london [08 Nov 2005|07:49pm]

mark40e
Image hosted by Photobucket.com
tate modern entrance; london
8 didn't answer| ask a question

would-be autonomy. [05 Nov 2005|06:10pm]

photoflood
[ mood | navy blue drapes & skyscapes ]

she's always someone other than herself in person. so when i see her, naturally, i wish for elongation of reflection. "sight & tact"- in the archaic, of course, because "tactFULLNESS" is one of those hyperbolic kind of words people would rather not be weigh[t]ed by, or near for that matter.

let's recall a line i wrote between months ago, "the anonymity of the big city, where the bricks break the skyline." it came to me when i wore a towel turban & thought back on the days i let myself become wrapped up in thought & warm summer nights saturated with (or is it by?) sound.

i often speak of stasis in the behavioural sense, stagnancy. have i really progressed so little these past few years? i wont allow myself to think linearly. life is full of meaning & one word is worth a million more.

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the young and the old are right...i know because i feel it [05 Nov 2005|07:12pm]

mark40e
for katiedollface

a bit of a collaboration...

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
photo courtesy of katiedollface

THE OLD AND THE YOUNG ARE RIGHT...I KNOW BECAUSE I FEEL IT

...and as for the young
and the old...or even the ones in between
we develop certain instincts
based on:
fear,
love,
and a need for safety.

i remember my grandfather once told me that
i was not to argue or fight with my sister.

"once in mexico",
he said,
"a brother and a sister fought
and fought. all the people in the village
used to tell them not to fight,
and one day,
while fighting,
the earth just opened up
and swallowed them...took them away"

i stood there,
barely 6 years old,
wide-eyed
and my heart pounding.

"i won't fight with my sister"
i said

and somewhere in me
was planted a seed
which directed much of my youthful life...

my grandmother
always made me feel safe though. when i acted out
she'd say,
"he's just a little boy...that's what boys DO!"

she'd hand me something good to eat
and send me on my way,
much to the displeasure of my older sister.

since those days,
old people have become a certain comforting mystery
to me. in fact,
i feel better in the company of old people
or children,
than regular adults...the marriage minded types
who terrify me to no end.

i think that the old and young are much alike. i feel
a certain comraderie with them...

they have little fear,
much love,
and long for a feeling of safety.

it's in the middle years
that life gets tricky. fear dictates most of our moves,

and we find ourselves
incessantly managing our lives
based on what we don't have
or what we might lose.

so make me young again...and if not,
please bring on the old age. i long for the feelings
i once had,

and i dream about the ones
i'll pass on to grandchildren...my own
or others.

i suppose that will take a marriage though...and i'm
not very close to that sort of life.

but then again,
there IS this new one...polish girl
with the ass of an angel.

she's been asking me
if i can see myself with her for a long,
long time.

to this i smile,
as if i'm not going to answer...

but then
i chuckle and say,
"it certainly sounds intriguing...and there IS the matter
of your sweet ass"

she kisses me.

and for a few brief moments
we feel no fear...but we feel something
much closer to love.

i feel safe when she's in bed with me.

like this morning,
i drifted off to sleep
wondering what it would be like
to grow old,
holding on to that sweet ass...listening to that lovely accent.

young and old...

some moments with her,
i'm not sure which one of us
is which...

oh. and my grandfather was right...no fighting.

there are so many other lovely things
to do.
ask a question

a long aweighted return. [03 Nov 2005|07:10pm]

photoflood
[ mood | s[e]atellite ]

she saw paris reflected
in burning hydrogen &
burnt-out cigarettes
regrets retold &
enfolded in the pleats of her skirt
she watched as
imperial language
pressed itself into her curtains
first impressions are everything &
there's some sort of pseudo scientific correlation between
focus & light
focus & flights overseas
survolant salt saturation &
choleric romance with red lips
silk slips &
abandonded air strips

9 didn't answer| ask a question

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