I don't know why, but Our Lady Peace's music always makes me feel like painting and general creating. A painting waits, half finished by the fireplace mantle. While perusing my collection of photographs, I've found that I have no models to pose for me. Sure, I have female models, but they can only go so far. I need male models... not so much to act out my fantasies (which, I guarantee you, would be a bit on the pornographic side) but who'll allow me to document they're lives, more or less. The whole point of photography, afterall, is capturing something. A sense of aesthetic documentary.
... Goddamn, my instinct for love is especially sensitive lately. Damned oysters...
. . . . . posted:||10:20 PM . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .