Lost and Found.

Thinking I lost an unhealthy amount of old images and folders of some life-affirming sessions was somewhat of a mind fuck. While it is rough on the brain. Coming to the conclusion that most things in life are temporary kept me from jumping from the proverbial bridge. When many, or most of the lost sessions, appeared on an old hard drive. There was definitely reason for celebration.

However when an image from a trip to Philadelphia, one I have no memory of taking. The joy was overwhelming. Taken in 2016. This image properly documents my obsession with music and my need to visit, at the very least, one record store per city I’ve visited. That includes, but doesn’t limit to cities suck as close as DC, Baltimore, and Raleigh, and as far as London, Paris, Dublin, and Tokyo. Looking back, I wish I had the guts to doument each one, it’s shoppers, employees and owners. That and bring a bag of records home with me would be great. Though I don’t recall what record store this is, I love the picture.

The Things We Keep

As I was going through years of medical records that included but were not limited to CAT Scans, M.R.I.’s, and visits to the emergency room. I began to feel overwhelmed and somewhat depressed. While I understand that medical, W-2’s and tax returns don’t tell the true story of the lives we’ve lived and led. Seeing much of your experiences and struggles on tax return or hospital discharge can be quite the mind fuck. So when I found this envelope resting within years of hundreds of files deemed “important”. It was the life preserver that kept me afloat emotionally. While I often beat my chest about my disdain for living in the past and preserving memories by constantly reliving them. I am quite an archivist.

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I have a couple of books filled with everything from published articles to concert ticket stubs to notes passed to me in the eighth grade from my first big crush. My decision to keep or discard often come down to how these things made me feel originally or their importance to a specific time or experience. For christ’s sake,  I still have the hollow point bullet my Dad gave me when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure there was a life lesson attached, but for the life of me. Neither myself nor my Father can remember.  In no way am I a hoarder. I’m quite neat and organized. Often taking time to purge the less important things. Still, I’m often amazed by the amount of moments I’ve managed to save.