Danae spins at the Belhaus “Banana Grandma” show. Gino’s mom brings cookies. Henry and I talk about bad painting, our upcoming trip to Palm Springs, the pathology of powerful people and Eric Fischl’s show at Phoenix Art. I ponder how Henry and I might be friends if we were the same age. We are friends now, after all.
I wake up. I take a shower, I get dressed, I go outside. The families are out for their morning walks. I remember how grateful I am to live in a beautiful neighborhood.
At poker night with the boys. JD cooks up some cocktails and after a few hands we order Uber Eats. After one regrettable Domino’s order totaling nearly $20, we hit three back to back $25 off to the same address. No swap needed, 100% success rate. Shoutout to Wool. IFYKYK. I win back our $10 buy in after a few hands and play for free the rest of the night.
I gaze.
At Aftermarket, I shoot a few portraits of Phil with Halide Mark II. I underexpose three stops, and bump three stops in post. I love this rich digital grain look.
I leave the shop. I gaze at the moon in the reflection of the rear windshield. For years I have gazed, the moon gazes back. In an instant I pour out the depths of my heart. The moon listens well, it always does. I remember bargaining for a certainty it could not offer, hours before dawn in the middle of the Nevada desert. “The next time I see you like this, everything will be okay. Right?” Everything was okay, eventually. But not in the way I expected. Has anything changed?
I cut pieces for another canvas bag sample. I cannot seem to stop coughing so I take deep breaths and I cough more. That is a great metaphor for something, but for what exactly I am not sure. Julian is here. He asks me if I am okay, perhaps implying that I do not look it. He is the third or fourth person in the last two days who has brought it up. I think I need to pray. Jeret calls, I answer. I will call him back soon.
Aftermarket closes while I sit at the bar editing video. Danae waits for Alex to pick her up, and Jordan reads what she wrote hours before.
I sit in bed. I feel lost. Am I lost? I don’t think so. I think I am free. I may have destroyed and betrayed myself for nothing. I have also refused to give up hope. I will not give hope up now.
We go to trivia at Arizona Wilderness and place second to last. We win four jawbreakers. I drink most of a 16oz coffee stout draft beer. Everyone comes over after trivia. Then we go to Bikini Lounge. I am sick, tired and pointlessly irritated. It’s an off night. We have fun anyway. I am grateful I am accepted and loved even when I am not at my best.
Minerva is sewing. I interrupt her before she begins stitching on the straps to capture a few study images.
After driving home, I sit in the car. I see the neighbors shifting around inside through wide open windows. They have a new baby. Yesterday, the dad stood outside with his child and howled at the moon playfully. I walked to the door to collect an order of food, tracing my steps back through the living room and closing the curtains, closing off my view of the two of them standing there on the sidewalk just after dusk. He is outside now, standing at the window and waving the baby’s arm at the mother inside.
I set up an empty desk and strobes along the south wall of the Ezra Arthur warehouse. My intention is to recreate the natural lighting I used to photograph everything at our last shop downtown. I am not far off.
I cut out canvas and leather for another version of our new bag and leave it on Minerva’s table to sew.
Hannah cooks dinner for us. We do a trivia competition in the style of some Youtube video and go to Club Contact for jazz night. We laugh, we fight, we cry: huddled under space heaters in the desert night.
It may be that shopping for groceries is the most intimate thing I have ever done with a woman.
At 8:27 AM, I drive to Fixate for the 8:30 AM service. I am only a few minutes late. Micah speaks about reaching people outside of the church and I take notes. After church, I go to Aftermarket. I show Danae this blog and finish cutting together a Personal Journal for October. Slowly but surely, I am catching up to the present day. Sam makes me a matcha with a beautiful leaf detail on the surface. Danae smokes a cigarette outside.
About an hour ago, I wake up. I slept with the heat on higher than usual. Because it is dark outside, I worry it is the middle of the night. I check my phone. Two of my friends found each other on Hinge. I wonder who else my friends may have seen on there. I respond to a few texts and regrettably watch 30 minutes of Youtube Shorts. My feed is a mix of diy, sports highlights and reckless driving. I finally lock my phone and get out of bed to shave, shower and get dressed for Sunday. I think I feel well enough now to have a normal day. Whatever normal is lately.
Caroline sends me a copy of her portfolio via Google Drive. I pitch to Sebastian the idea of collaborating with her to create a 1/1 canvas bag in our latest silhoutte. We discuss what buckle to source and how we can accomodate various plating styles, including a saltwater patina.
I watch the first epsiode of Severance) and screen capture stills throughout.
While sick in bed, I join a Google Meet with Haj and Cary. They introduce the idea of hiring me to film promo video for an upcoming brand they are working on, Office Homme. Cary suggests I watch the first three epsiodes of Severance) for visual inspiration.
I typically read on my phone, or on my laptop. When I am reading a physical book, I tend to forget it at home. Or I bring it with me everywhere I go for two weeks and read only three pages. I realize few people prefer reading on a screen. Except for the eye strain, I love it.
It is sometimes a journey to find something to read on a screen. I use SLUM: The Shadow Library Uptime Monitor to find links to shadow libraries where I download EPUBs and PDFs. Yes, this is piracy. I have not felt guilty for illegally downloading a book or document in many years, although sometimes the reactions of a new friend remind me how I may be desensitized to the reality of theft. I deeply admire the people who devote their lives to making knowledge accessible through freely available books and documents. I try to support authors and creatives when I can. Sometimes, it is a tricky subject.
I wake up. It is dark outside. Unlike the night before, memories of anxiety from the middle of the night do not flood my mind. I am focused on a strange dream I woke from, a white haired, dark-skinned man apprehending me on the street while I wait for a woman I have never met. I wander into the living room where I left my glasses and then back to bed. I scroll through a handful of texts; it feels too early to respond but I do anyway. A few minutes later, my phone vibrates. Emily is awake too. I share my dream, I start to fall back asleep. When I wake up in the morning, I read four screenshots she sent me at 4:27 AM.
Mom sends me a text while I am asleep.
*
“I’m a bit afraid. Where will my freedom lead me? What is this that I’m writing to you? That leaves me all alone. But I go and pray and my freedom is ruled by the Order—I’m already without fear. All that’s guiding me is a sense of discovery. Beyond what’s beyond thought.”
*
Hannah stops by with chicken noodle soup and two oranges from Whole Foods. We talk for a bit, she goes home. Then I peel and eat an orange in bed.
I wake up. My head is swirling. There is a dream I had in the night that I cannot remember. I have nothing else to say. I think I am getting sick.
I go to the grocery store. I have not been more than a couple times in the past few months. It’s strange avoiding a place that nearly everyone else cannot. Like I am getting away with something. But now, wandering the aisles glowing with products, I wonder what I am missing. I think of the times I went to a grocery store with someone I loved. I notice right away how much more expensive everything is than I remember. I buy toilet paper, laundry detergent, half and half. The total is $44. I wear my red tinted glasses and realize it is more difficult to choose a brand or object without color perception. I guess those graphic designers are onto something. In what other places am I having a psychologically different experience by wearing red light glasses? It is a privilege to opt out of an experience normally forced upon us.
I drive home from Laveen on rain slicked side streets, the headlights and stop lights and store lights bleeding together in reflections on the wet pavement. I feel a particular way. I can try to describe it. I know my future is uncertain and yet I feel a profound sense of security and belonging.
8 hours at the shop is far too many. But at least I got a lot done.
I cut this test swatch of white kip to try placing a 5/16” pronged dome stud into the leather.
Today I wake up late. Within eight minutes, I am in my car driving to work. Not bad...
It’s fun to hang out with strangers and it’s fun to hang out with people who really know you.
It is 8:21 PM and I am thinking about how I had a great day.
Leaving the shop as the sun goes down and dusk hangs almost tangibly in the air...
I will not allow shame to dictate how I live and how I express myself.
I sometimes surprise myself with what I am capable of.
Driving to church in Chandler to see Jamie Winship speak today. I don’t remember the last time I drove for more than 20 minutes before 9am. Even though I’m not thrilled about living in the largest urban sprawl in America, I am grateful for the lifestyle that has been carved out for me here.
It’s never too late on a Saturday night to invite someone to church.
Absolutely wonderful morning at Aftermarket meeting up with a few friends. With Logan, I shared OpenCam and a few strategies for maximizing quality video output from an iPhone camera. Lee dropped off a ballstic nylon bag for reference.
Now, I am sitting on FaceTime with Jess while we both build out our blogs and I edit video from my trip to Minnesota last September. Hopefully I will catch up on Personal Journal videos soon.
I am having trouble sleeping tonight.
Thinking again about cognitive debt. What have I truly learned and integrated lately? I think I’d like to go back to researching by bouncing from one Google result to another, rather than querying a language model. A past method is always slipping away in favor of the future.
I’m sitting at Cartel on Oak sipping an arguably overpriced latte. I did not bring my laptop, narrowing the possible tasks at hand to four.
1. Read Água Viva by Clarice Lispector
2. Respond to emails and texts
3. Write a blog entry
4. Sit and look out the window.
2 and 3 are well enough along, perhaps I will try 1 now.
While driving home from work, I decided to wrap up my first weekly playlist of 2026.
Listen to 01 26 on Spotify.
Hello
Today is January 15th, 2026.
I am starting this blog.
