musicfromblueskies:

Ladies and gentlemen… Jon Snow.

(via wilwheaton)

Science is the my new porn.

At least until July. 

I remember a few years ago when we met the movie students in Paris, we all had the idea of someday making a movie together. That dream never died. I even wrote the idea and short-story that the movie would be based on. A decade and so much crap later and that dream is still alive. 

But fuck me if I don’t know the first thing about making a movie.

Going to have to do something about that. If there’s one thing I am going to do in this life, it’s get that damned horror movie made. 

Those were the days.

(via roarieyum)

I am itching to get my next tattoo… 

More tentacles? Maybe…

Roarie?  Katie West? Rrrawr but…

The Village People? Err, where are you going with this… 

Fuck it, suggestions then? 

Always remember, fuck the haters. Fuck them with bells and sprinkles.

I have never hugged a tree. Never hugged an actual tree. Is that strange?

I used to take pictures. That is to say, I used to try to make art. I believed I did, for a while. Then ‘the question’ and everything fell apart. I am not a photographer. But someday perhaps.

I am a writer, on and off. I write. I have written. A novel sits in three uneasy piles in the wire trays by my monitor. It waits there for me to finish editing it. It has been through this process seven times in two years. I have rejections. That’s as accomplished as I am. I still have hopes.

I am a voyeur. I like to watch the minutiae of life as it flies past and the internet has given me a window into all of your rooms. We are all naked online.  

I am not a poet.

Not at all.

Nor a short.

I think I am funny. Sometimes I am.

I am a father. And a parent. The two are very different.

I am these things.

Looking at Pintrest, and how gorgeous some of it looks, I can almost believe in the inevitable death of the written word. Almost. 

Please, someone, make it ugly. 

Sometimes it comes down to just wanting to see you naked.

I love you.

You are all beautiful and wonderful.

Even you.

And especially you. 

Dear visitor,

Thank you for happening, stumbling, or generally arriving here by accident. You may even be here because you noticed I clicked that ‘follow’ button and am now happily absorbing your offerings to the world at large.  

There’s not much here, but I will add more. I am not expecting you do read this drivel. I am not expecting you to do anything. So, there ends that stream of thought.  

If you are curious about why I clicked that button and if I am the kind of person you want your followers to be aware is following you… Well, if that’s really what you’re thinking, this conversation also finishes here.

The simple truth is that I find you interesting. I like interesting things and once they have piqued my interest I maintain a hope that they will continue to be interesting. Sometimes life can be that simple. It does not matter to me if you are a man or woman, if you identify as something else, if you are straight, queer, or don’t care what people think you are, if you like being nude, being fat, being thin, or anywhere inbetween, watching porn, making porn, fucking people for fun, fucking people for profit, or fucking for fun and profit, if you like drugs, if you are make believe, if you are lying or exaggerating, being ingenious, devious or just fucking insane. The decision to follow is mine.  

I find you interesting.  

Yours,

GoC.

The very first time I worked with a nude model I remember her arriving, talking about what we were going to do, then watching with horror as she came out from the changing area in gaudy array of see-through lingerie and accessories that she later explained was what all the ‘other’ photographers usually wanted her to wear.

She had left her motorbiking boots by the door. They had buckles, loads of black leather, were close to knee high and looked brilliant. Turns out she collected boots. In the end, with her wearing nothing more than the pair of boots instead of all that trashy lingerie, we spent 90 fun minutes taking pictures with them, and often of mostly them.

I will always love boots.

Half of me feels bad for not writing or posting anything here for a while. The other half of me feels great for not falling for anything that could be construed as procrasti…. goddamnfuckit.

These words are almost perfect.