Black, White, and Red, pt. 4

Here are the links to the images:

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1MwauGAceINi_D1j96d15CLrT752miw3G

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BLACK, WHITE, and RED

Jenna looked radiant and grown up in this series, and having known her for so many years made me realize just how far she’s come, both personally and physically, since I met her. There’s not much to say here, but please enjoy this TRIPLE SERIES of images. And now, a weird writing exercise, an experiment in free, stream-of-consciousness writing. Bear with me as I write nonsense without thinking about what I will type next:

“White lightning strikes the face of love, then punches it’s way through the centerpiece of your misfortune. I try to skillfully entertain the noise and knots of disillusion, while still struggling for the implied fruitless natures of the center. Keep stepping towards home, to truth, to a place where no one cares if you’ve washed your feet properly. No single person knows the troubles you’ve encountered, nor do they care, but that will only make you stronger and stranger. Find peace wherever you can, even between the thighs of a human you have lost respect for. Simple and tired are we, the mindless masses of ignorant fools. Comedy brings forth a desire for more than just a little insecurity, but masks the deeper truth of horror and sexual stimulation. Crimson carries future fortitude and forgives a fraught and fingerless foul. News and nerves are what pushes us more than a fear of forgetting our place, and the gas leaks and nausea of our gurgling, choking planet are now just a tipping tailbone of sentience. Flicks and films and forbidding frozen treats can calculate a misconstrued musical conundrum of discourse, but fuck it, that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Never before have I born witness to the needlessly sold stale markings, nor have I wandered through my mind’s eye of nattary and naysaying. I am worn thin with the threadbare cloth of shirts and shoes, and my shorts no longer fit me the way the oversized and comforting pants and slacks stretch for my belly. Slipping on my old man shoes is easy and comforting and freeing, yet I fear I have become old before my time.”

Wow, that was exhausting. Usually writing essays for this page is pretty simple and only takes me a few minutes. But that stream-of-consciousness thing wore me out. Thanks for bearing with me and my writing nonsense, but I’m trying to push myself and do weird little exercises like this to keep my mind occupied.

Is Jenna still one of your favorites? Should I make an effort to shoot with her more? Please send me your feedback, positive or negative, and feel free to leave comments in the box below or in my DMs! And thank you as always for your continued support, your support means the world to me!

Here are those links again: 

https://drive.google.com/open?id=1MwauGAceINi_D1j96d15CLrT752miw3G