Tag Archives: Page

Page 1

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We arrived in the city of Torino, a small city resembling Paris with the Po River running through it below the hills.  There are about 1,000,000 people in Torino, surrounded by the mountains.  People tell me being geographically enclosed has also closed the people down as well.  They have a saying about the Torinese people, “Piedmontese, falsi e cortesi”, which translates “people are courteous and false”.  But I have been welcomed by this city with curiosity and open arms.



 

Page 81, 83 & 85

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14/1/01

Awoke at 10am, took a shower, did some emailing, had a coffee with Fabio who works downstairs at the flower shop and went to Cafe Des Arte to study Italian.  My hands are cold, writing is a little difficult, the weather bites.   Feelings are all over the place.  The heart is strange, the rest is alright.

… I need a heater 98.6


Page 155, 157 & 159 (the lost pages)

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Projects for when I return:

Self-portraits senza faccia

Portraits of friends

Gestation – a book about the process

Paintings with photos

Polaroid portraits (mixed media)

Quad shots (me & Torino)

Samantha – portraits of peculiar beauty

high contrast shots

portraits of strangers

nudes?

check in suitcase under where top handle is w/ towel

film kodak box w/ camera bag

in polaroid camera

in ritz box

2 film in purse pocket


Page 185 & 186 (the lost pages)

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June 25th

Now I smell your scent, I wanna turn my head.  Choking, I’m afraid to be harsh.  My legs crash to the ground.  That was the last time.  Desperation is ugly.  Control yourself.

It’s too hot in this city.

I’m losing my mind.  Help.

7/7/01

I’m so fucked up right now… I wish there was someone with me right now… Maybe it’s better I’m alone.  I’m still not used to Samantha leaving to go back to L.A.  It was time for her to move on, but I’m still in Torino.


Page 239, 241,243, 245, 247 & 249

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7/4/02 I should start to think about what I like, I’m beginning to forget.  Nature in the daytime, city at night.  Should I move to Paris?  So much going on all at once.  Almost 23 years old.  I thought by now it would have all worked itself out.  Livin in a dream world, thinking up someone else’ dream. 

listening to Cypress Hill.  feeling like shit.  People traveling in Packs.  Everyone’s trying to be different in the same way. 

3/5/02 Volunteering at the gallery, thinking of other ways I could make use of my time… Taking fotos, reading, smoking less.  I hope Davide comes here tonight.  Enjoying his company might become the demise of me.

Tonight I left without kissing anybody goodbye and felt uncomfortable, as if I had broken some Italian law.  It’s just that sometimes I want to be out when I’m ready to go and saying goodbye here can take a half an hour.  That’s kind of the beautiful think about Italy at the same time, people are so engaged that it takes them time to pull away.

I forgot what poetry was for… not just a vague explanation of thought existing in double meanings, it’s for Love.


Page 277 & 279

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15/2/03 Budapest is a depressing city.  The winter is cold & dark.  A grey blanket covers the city, but there’s no warmth.  People walk with their faces tucked into jacket collars, partly for warmth, partly to hide.  Davide and I hang out at his place going out to walk his dog and grab a hot cider.

Fighting with Davide in the middle of the streets of Budapest for impossible affections.  The air was cold, but not as cold as he was.  I turn around and run as far away in the opposite direction, anywhere but here.  The streets are covered in ice, I’m slippin.

Finally leaving this tortured existence I put myself through.  Masochistic ignorance.  Abandoning myself to the fucking devil.  NO MORE.  Wasted tears, wasted breath.

There’s nothing to show for a few days past, that are never gonna last, so just let it go.