My Godfather, Stanley died in his sleep on the morning of Wednesday September 2nd.
It's tough to put into words about how I feel about losing him. He had a long and wonderful life with Brenda, who died on 18th December 2006, so I think he'd just had enough of being by himself.
He was loved, and I was truely blessed to have had him in my life for the twenty-four years I did.
say hello to brenda for me stan, i miss you both too much.
Sunday, 6 September 2009
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
from france to switzerland, then home // to bourenemouth, to reading then home again.
I've come home recently and felt detatched from life and people around here, I have no clue what is going on anymore, with anything.
I'm just constantly tired, or getting fucked up on something. I feel like I'm fighting for conversation with friends and family, yet yearning for connections everywhere.
Communication is a must, and I have nothing to talk about.
I tried emailing people yesterday who I met in and around Switzerland, and it just went wrong.
Some got returned unsent, and it was the people I wanted to hear from who's emails didn't send.
I'm tired, and don't want to be here.
Next week I start photography on the 9th or the 14th, I honestly can't remember. My necks being tattoo'd on the 8th and Stan is getting worse. My parents were married ten years ago this week, and I have nothing to give them.
I still haven't developed any pictures from my summer either.
Fuck, I need to get back on the horse.
listen to NO WARNING.
read Jorge Luis Borges' Labyrinths.
wear movie hats.