Last week I re-read a journal I kept during the year before my divorce. Damn those were tumultuous times. I moved out of my old house, then back in; went to one shrink, another, and another.
The only constant was how shitty I felt most of the time, and the certainty that I needed to be doing certain things.
Writing.
Taking pictures.
Finding a network of creative people.
Traveling more.
Chilling out.
Well whaddya know I've been doing most of the above.
But I've been thinking some more. Back in the day I filled sketchbooks with images ripped out of magazines, quotations, all the little bits that made up my life: Benetton ads, my own drawings, Christian Lacroix pearl-encrusted crosses, ESPRIT shoes, Len Deighton. A me-book. Today, armed with tape and pages torn from Citizen K, I started a new me-book.
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O hai, 2012
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