These are all more or less the same image. I took a picture of a corroded door along Dexter Avenue, loving the crackling paint and the thick furry layer of lichen. Then I played with the image, turned up the intensity in one, washed out the colors in another.
It reminds me that how I see the world is largely a product of me. My mood. What's on my mind. Whether or not I'm paying attention. Not to mention the external physical factors like sun and clouds, light and pollution and geographical availability. I walk along a busy industrial street and see the geometric beauty in railings.
I want to be fearless.
I also want to be true.
I want to see clearly and find the patterns, find the loveliness in the deteriorated and the abandoned.
And I want to have a good time, dammit.
Voicelessness and despair aside--snarky I know--it's been an insanely busy week. Last Thursday I had the pleasure of ushering with a g...
Ever wondered what it takes to get a piece of fiction published? I'm not talking New Yorker type of prose. That's a rarefied world ...
Check out my new video, a brief reading from a story published this past spring in Opossum.
Welp, after a half-year experiment in social media, BSP has returned to its blogger roots. I hated Faceborkland, tbh. Sure, it was easier t...