BLOODBEAT

The train rattles through the tunnels beneath the midnight city. I sit in the center of the carriage, body rocking gently with the motion. I close my eyes as the rumbling, metallic thunder slowly begins to fade into the very periphery of my awareness.

And with each soothing breath which permits me deeper and deeper, in it's place, I tune in and I hear it. 

A Safehouse in the Wild City

What I love so ardently about 'The Bean' is that everyone in it could be elsewhere.

Looking around, everyone has either a laptop, a book, a newspaper, pens, paper, highlighters - any and every kind of tool to get well and truly lost. The only taskless ones are those who come and go, that momentary pause to perhaps wonder just what conspiracy lay beneath the surface of this establishment that it's deemed an absolute necessity that people must come here to do their business.

The Great Escape

It's taken almost two thirds of my trip, but I think I've figured out what frustrates me so much about being here.

Being on this boat does not feel like I am in New York City. 

It's a completely independent and self-sufficient universe on board here, and sometimes it feels as though the glittering skyline just beyond the harbour is almost mocking, saying 'yeah this is what you could be having' and here I am, trapped aboard this albeit beautiful boat, succumbing to quite literal cabin fever.

Midnight in Manhattan

I don't wanna brag, but... I'm pretty damn good at feeling sorry for myself.

I mean hey, with the amount of practise I've had over the years, I'm pretty sure I could be classed as an expert. 

What I'm not very good at, however, is getting myself out of it. 

Big City Blues

A slanted, cylindrical beam of golden light streams in through the porthole window of my cabin, an infinity of gravity-defying dust motes dancing and swirling within it. 

I lay on my back, body facing the empty bunk above, and slowly raise an arm, fingertips gently grazing the untouchable gold.

The only sounds which punctuate the silence are the periodical creaks of ancient wood and the soft rattle of the fan upon the writing desk. I roll over on the bed to face the porthole, and watch as the reflections of the water streak silver across the ceiling.

The 4th of July in New York City

Have you ever had one of those moments, 

A moment that interrupts your perception of the pace of reality quite suddenly -

Perhaps you witness an accident, bump into a familiar friend in an unexpected place, or hear announcement of some shocking news which all of a sudden makes you forget what you were doing and why - and you suddenly achieve this deep-rooted awareness to a molecular level about exactly who you are, what you're doing and what is happening?

I'm not sure if there's a proper name for it, but I like to call it 'Hyper Presence' - a moment in which you are suddenly torn from your familiar pace and comfortable, consistent method of processing the world and pasted into a completely new context of awareness, which finds you stunned, disorientated, and more than a little bit dazed.

Maybe it was the beer, perhaps it was the company, or even the place in which we stood, but gazing up into the indigo sky on the 4th July, it suddenly hit me hard, and gazing over at my best friend I realised the hyperpresence had suddenly gripped him too.

The Coney Island Mermaid Parade - on 35mm

As is no secret, there's nothing I've grown to love more these past few months than analogue photography. So as Hannah & Toni were in the city, we bustled our way through subway cars full of metallic painted mermaids, sea creatures, pirates and er some zombies and stuff which was a pretty niche take on the concept, down to the seaside theme park of New York City, Coney Island with our film cameras for the 34th Annual Coney Island Mermaid Parade.

It turned out to be perhaps the most bizarre day of my entire life, concluding in epic fashion with a profusely-bleeding man screaming through the crowds claiming everyone was going to die and punching random citizens in the face, before being taken down by approximately 450 NYPD cops, which almost got us busted when we audibly protested at the excessive use of force.

Ahh, nothing like a joyful day at the seaside.

But we drowned our sorrows in shitty sangria, theme park rides and incredible vegan pizza and all was well with the world again.

So enjoy this little snapshot of madness captured on 35mm film - although unlike my usual blogging style, I'm going to be doing a series of photodiaries, as I have tons of photos already from this trip I can't wait to share with y'all, but don't always have the time to write along with them all.

So bombard you I shall!

Much love,

Upon The Discovery of Discipline

I sit hunched forward on the rusting fire escape, my scraped elbows resting against the supports of my bloody knees, violet and indigo bruises painted like watercolours beneath the ever-bronzing skin of my calves.

The warm Brooklyn breeze stirs the paint-flecked wisps of flyaway hair that dance around my sweaty, grime-smeared cheeks and as I inhale deeply, I systematically feel every iota of my body submit a creaking roll call in response.

I know then that this is the hardest I have ever worked for anything in my life.