Another life update

I want to thank all those who responded to my last post; I haven't been so great at finding the time and brainpower to send my reply to your kind e-mails as of yet, but rest assured that I will sooner or later. (Also, keep them coming! I take a look at my site analytics to see where my traffic comes from, and wonder who's visiting the page.)

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A request for personal e-mails

I miss e-mail. I still get plenty of new things filling up my inbox, but just like the box in my apartment lobby, most of what I get is bill notifications, subscriptions, and junk mail. The odd piece of correspondence from another human being slips through on occasion, but not enough for my liking.

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It's not you, it's me

I’ve been trying to come up with a personal blog post for a little while.  Maybe this comes with the trap of having an online space signed with your name, but I’m afraid of posting what I truly feel because I worry about how such a post will reflect on me.  Every time I consciously try to write something I end up generalizing things so much to the point where it rings false.

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The summer's gone, but a lot goes on forever

Leonard Cohen is gone. It was an inevitability, telegraphed by the man himself in recent months, but seeing the official status at the top of my Facebook feed was an unwelcome surprise tonight. Right now, it doesn’t feel much like the big loss I expected to feel; in a year that already claimed David Bowie and Prince, where voters in the UK and US legitimized hatred and resentment of the other, Cohen’s death almost seems anticlimactic. Just another light gone out after our eyes already adjusted to the darkness.

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Still processing, still grieving

In the wake of the Orlando shooting, I'm reminded just how thankful I am for the lifeline that is the Internet and social media; seeing my friends express their personal feelings over the matter rather than reverting to some ready-made impersonal #prayfororlando. I'm grateful for the rage of the activist communities fighting back against attempts to downplay the queer and racial identities of those slaughtered, and denouncing those that express false solidarity and cynically use the LGBT community as a cudgel against Muslims and immigrants.

I'm still processing this tragedy. I suspect I will be for a long time.

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Side gig

I'm currently looking for work, so the photography thing hasn't been a big priority for the past few weeks. I haven't really felt motivated to write either, although sometimes I get the urge in the middle of the night, which I usually try to extinguish because my sleeping patterns are messed up enough as it is. Pay-what-you-can photo shoots are still on the table indefinitely, but it's definitely a side-gig for me at best; to be honest, even that doesn't seem like much of a priority compared to finding full-time employment.

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Surrender

I'm usually not that comfortable around people until I know them well enough. I love good conversation, but I have to be past that awkward get-to-know-you stage in order for my guard to fall; unless I'm completely relaxed around a person and completely familiar with their energy, face-to-face conversation is a stilted chore.

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Brief thoughts on Bowie's death, almost two weeks later

I'm a little late to add to the David Bowie remembrance train, nor do I have any good stories about how Bowie inspired or saved me when I was young. I remember seeing the rerun of his 1979 SNL appearance with Klaus Nomi and Joey Arias when I was 16, and had somewhat of an awareness of his importance to music, but my appreciation didn't really flower until adulthood. Since his passing, I've listened to the three Bowie albums I own copies of (Ziggy Stardust, Station To Station, "Heroes"), as well as the rest of his discography on Spotify; I didn't give Blackstar a play until after he died, but wonder what it would have felt like to have those early impressions of the album suddenly change shape as Bowie's true intentions for the work revealed themselves. As I said before, I don't really have much else to add to the conversation, but I strongly recommend Jacqueline Valencia's moving and nuanced look at how important his music was in her life

Bowie's death has me wondering whether I would mourn any musician's death on that same level. About ten years ago, when my friend Wilson was starting to get into Bob Dylan, we had a discussion about whether his inevitable passing would be one of those events that spawns a massive collective mourning: Wilson didn't think so; he theorized that Dylan had so long ago become a mythical figure that news of his death would almost be anti-climactic.  It would still be a bummer, but I can't really disagree with that assessment.