Jim Jones

Dear Jim Jones,

Jim Jones was my great grandaddy

He sent me a letter in 1994 and I read it today for the first time.

It almost made me cry, not because I missed him, but because I couldn't remember any of the things he told me about in the letter. Like the Valentine's day "mug for you to drink from" 

He told me in the letter exactly what it looked like and I could not remember it's existence. 

He sent me candy and notes and bird seed and a little umbrella but I didn't remember any of it. 

He hoped that "you and your mother and daddy are getting along fine." And I all of a sudden missed my family's southern drawl. 

I found myself wondering if he meant to sign the letter " Your Greatdaddy" Because it made me laugh a little. 

But most of all I wanted nothing more than to send him a thank you letter in return. 

Thank you Great Grandaddy Jones for all my treats, I am sorry I don't remember them.

Your Great Grandaughter,

Lauren.

I don't have anything to say anymore.

I am losing my memory which scares me more than anything. 
I don't have anything of substance to say.
And I need to get back to that place where I can finish a goddamn book.

I found this.

I have these terrible habits;

of cracking my knuckles 

and drinking far too much coffee 

and even more whiskey

and losing myself 

and getting anxious around people

and hating them for it

and being jealous 

and not understanding why I do 

any of these things.

I guess on the bright side, 

I could be a smoker. 

Oh boy!

There has been a rush of change. I am a bystander for now but no matter what happens I know one thing for certain, this one's going to hurt like hell.

I found the horse from "The Science of Sleep", he's had it rough.

Out of character.

Besides this blog and my mother's kitchen wall (I graduated from the refrigerator), I don't really put my photographs out into the world. Recently some brilliant friends of mine started a small publication of sorts and I am proud to be a part of it. 

Check it out.

I went to Las Vegas for a few days.

Vegas didn't help my sanity/lack there of, but I got a good sunburn. Sometimes you just need a sunburn (or a phone call).

I need to get my hands dirty

and play with film again.


Found art: this is where it began, on a post- it.