
“Not having a good day. Wrote three poems. But just don’t give a shit. Have you ever felt like this?”
He needs someone to care for him, because he doesn’t want to do it for himself.
Photography Thinks
Jack Kevorkian encouraged people to take control of their lives at a time when that life might not have been worth living. Others say that people cannot do that; alleging all lives have merit despite the drain on family, friends, and resources and the depression that comes with not being able to function as one once did, pain or no pain, awareness or no awareness. He served 8 years in jail for helping people end lives that were more difficult to endure than to terminate, a feat accomplished by the system who amended laws to make him subject to them.
Some religions make saints out of people who perform miracles that sometimes ease suffering and pain. Dr. Jack qualifies not only due to his mission, but the fact he had to do time and then was forced to renounce his faith to earn his freedom. Then, ironically, he died the common way, in a hospital bed, without anyone’s help.

He wanted to speak photography. Has a camera received for doing body work on a car, in addition to $300. Has my card on his coffee table. Chased me down for ablums I left in a bag on the bench, next the woman who thought I might shoot her image and the guy, Greg, who wants to leave but who may not have told her and who didn’t want his image which she took, and kept working on his guitar.

He used a tool which a friend had given him that day.


So you cannot have a billboard, but you can leave an earth mover on a piece of land for months. Not very attractive. No company name on it. I assume there was no room in the garage. You would think that someone would have use for this. Aren’t these babies expensive?

Move them away from the barricades. Down the block, they don’t have barricades. The people just stand in the middle of the street and cheer.

How about cutting down on noise pollution. Don’t you hate that sound.

Don’t want the dog to interfere with the runners

Neatness counts as much as water.

Clean Up on the Battery.

“I’ll be back next year,” he said. Too bad the bike path may not.

So, Paul’s back on Cherry Street. Too bad. “Someone swiped my change…. Cops beat me up. Things getting bleak and strange here. They want me to sit 9 feet from the store, next to the gutter…. I tried to put a quarter in a meter to stop someone from getting a ticket, but they wouldn’t let me.”
I have to get him some pants.
Received a comment from someone in the virtual world about this image of Eric which I posted on dpreview. Person questioned my point of view and referenced Homer. You know, Homer of the Illiad, etc. When I shared the story with Eric, he lightheartedly and good naturedly asked if the person was talking about Homer Simpson. Could be? But the questioner had it wrong. Eric isn’t loitering. He lives here. Its a stoop. He’s sitting. Who says he needs to be going somewhere to do something? Take that Homer. This is real life.


One sleeps under a tree. One sleeps under a window. No one bothered them.
