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So..... I'm remembering a conversation I had with someone I spoke with a handful of weeks ago. He made suggestions on what more I could do with my gallery here. Do more with the work that I post. How sweet of him I guess. He said " write a little bit about how you felt" during the photo shoots I have done and do so for those I will have in the future. A novel idea it is. A novel ideal I can both laugh and scoff at on occasion. There is a problem with this "idea".

I can't write about much of what I'm feeling when it comes to my modeling when in junction with the skills of photographers. I don't feel much of anything but the fleeting and ever changing rush of being a muse for a few hours. That flighty feeling is something that can hardly be put into words that will do justice to not only me but to and for the moment in which it was had. Because all of what I feel is a "work in progress" elation. And the last time I checked, elation can only be described, repackaged and spoken of in very limited ways before it gets old and tired.

I don't think when I model really. I just move and work with elements that surround me. Its one of the very few times and/or events in my life where I "just go with the flow". It's the only thing that doesn't require much thought. Once the outfit and make-up is done and I get in front of then lens, the mind shuts down and I am just a body functioning for the purpose of producing an image. Producing an image that more or less affects the viewer but affects me.

I will confess and I'm sure that not many models will have said or even thought of such a thing; but I am and get just as amazed, startled, in awe and/or disappointed and unmoved by my work as a model as does someone like yourself who reads this. When I receive photos from a photographer and see them for the first time, I am no longer the model who was in the picture nor am I the woman/being I was before I prepared for the shoot, I become and am a viewer of an end product created by two or more individuals. Sitting just as silently and isolated as most of you who "view", "watch","collect", and (sometimes) "react" to the work of another and/or others.

*Ah.... Toccata & Fugue in D minor is on now... I swoon.*

This makes me think back on the days where I took photos myself. I remember all the emotion, the amour and personal hardship I went through to create an image I could be proud of let alone share with other people. Remembering all this I can see when and why I stopped taking photos. It's work that I produce myself that provokes and invokes the most feeling from me. It's me working with my own mind, vision and skill- well what remains of it. Skill that is...

I would like to try my hand at photography again. Photography of myself and the things and beings that are pleasing to me.

This is strange...

I remember responding to a comment during an exchange of words between SEX and I about 5 months ago. "I love taking photos as much as having photos taken of me but I guess you could say I'm terrified of it now. Its been a really long time." The idea of getting back into taking photos does scare the shit out of me. Just as much as the idea of getting back into writing only makes me angry, bitter, and sorrowful all at once. My soul shudders and feels like the grip of death is upon it when I make attempts to capture a moment in time with a camera. I guess picture taking and writing were a lot more emotionally charged and nerve wrecking for me than my own creations with paint and pencil, music and movement. No, it would have be stigma. Intense, heavy, and thick as cattle shit stigma. There is a lot of stigma.

As a model, there are images I wish to create with myself. As an artist there are visions I wish to see brought to life. My mind, this forever flooding and boiling over mess of dream and prophecy driving me mad and screaming for air and space. This isn't simple nor is this easy.

I wish I had the courage to get back into the habit without question and hesitation. I wish I hadn't given in and given up because of hardships and monsters. I wish I hadn't let myself get weak. But wishing is one in the same with praying to me.... useless. A wish is an insignificant whimper a heart makes. "A fart in the wind" as Breeze would say. I can't do much of anything about the past right now anyway. All wishing is futile but for one exception. An exception I won't speak of unfortunately.

*Brandenburg Concerto..... my heart is breaking*

Fuck, I have a decision to make pretty soon before I drive myself insane.

Alome mi deiter-
Shi-








*The Inspirions*
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Digital Diary Complex:

Sequential Assistance:

The Fetiphile:

Gods in Man:

My Tangerine Dreams:

The MiMi Museum:

My Beautiful Friends:

Visual Assistance:

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What will I sell to you? What will I try to give away? What will I sell to you? What will I leave you with?