BRONCHO | Santa Cruz, CA | November 2012.
Colour Revolt | February 2012 | Portland, OR.
Shut Your Animal Mouth | May 2013 | Portland, OR.
Two weeks in another town(s). I will be on tour for the rest of September, shooting photographs on the road with a band called Broncho (from Tulsa). Both of my books will be available at the merchandise booth at all shows. If perchance you are residing in one or two of these towns and should feel compelled to come out and share a drink, or a hug, or some heavy conversation, the tourdates are listed below. See you later, alligator.
Sept. 14 - Portland, OR @ Bunk Bar
Sept. 16 - Seattle, WA @ Sunset Tavern
Sept. 18 - San Francisco, CA @ Bottom of the Hill
Sept. 19 - Santa Cruz, CA @ Crepe Place
Sept. 20 - Santa Ana, CA @ Constellation Room
Sept. 21 - Los Angeles, CA @ The Satellite
Sept. 22 - San Diego, CA @ Soda Bar
Sept. 24 - Tempe, AZ @ Yucca Tap Room
Sept. 25 - Albuquerque, NM @ Low Spirits
Sept. 26 - Drinks and dinner in Tulsa, OK.
Yours, JARET.
Careless gravel and dust strewn about as the sun sets and your reflection wanes; alternate daylit mirrors wax over the blurred remnants of the shape you were, fattening the thin, fucking up the perfect, fading the strength of your lonely daily measured sense of self. You do it the same the next day. We’ll sit there and watch ourselves peak in the noon and fall in the night, right before bed when the most persecuting agent in life, in real life, is your dreams. That desperate time when you really, really are alone. Locked away in your head, you think the real hiding is when you wake up and say to yourself, it was only a dream.
Without having to voice it in front of others. When no one else is hearing. The first step to admitting that you have a problem may be how hard it is to see someone else sleep soundly. The next may be noticing with impatience how long it takes somebody you are close to to return your call. A further step … probably trying to figure out if it’s really a problem at all. Or who it’s a problem for.
How hard do you look at yourself. How often do you turn away from that. Sitting alone in bed at night after a celebration that’s ended, wondering what to do with the next hour, that fateful hour when you really have to try to figure something out. Even if you’re not alone in bed, don’t you do it anyway in the middle of the night when you’re awake while the person next to you is asleep, making sounds, uncomfortable, uninteresting, unbearable sounds of slumber, while you stare up at the ceiling, over at the wall. What are you thinking.
We sat together in the small, yellow circle of a streetlight’s gaze, with our hands on each others’ knees. Probably this dream was the best one all month.
The heaviness of your decision, as the pain of your regret, will weigh upon you tenfold in dreams if you don’t watch out.