memories.

we all have them, and this is mine.  habits of the every day are often forgotten, we go into auto pilot and forget to oberve our surroundings.  this morning, i broke that habit.

give yourself a chance

we can all dream.

Twitbubble, find love in 140 characters or less.

140 characters (the maximum amount allotted by Twitter in a single tweet) may seem like a tiny amount of information, but it can reveal a lot more than you think.  Making an impact with very few words is a difficult task, but can be a good challenge, just like the dating world. If you think you can get your E.E. Cummings on, take a trip inside BUBBLE, Twitter’s online dating application.

Twitbubble’s bio makes some high claims, “New Ways to Meet Potential Dates! Revolution in Match making. Hottest destination for Social dating.”  This may seem odd, lame, or even bizarre to some (I know it did to me, at first), but we have to think about this is as an advancement.  There were many skeptics about sites like eharmony and chemistry, but these sites have yielded outstanding results and have matched people who may have never had the chance had it not been for service sites like these.  Twitbubble is just another version of these dating sites, but slimmed down to 140 characters.  This diet on conversation is by no means a restriction.  Just like we have used hashtags and j.mp links in our own accounts, those using Twitbubble can share these same features with one another to reveal even more about themselves to their tweeting lover.

Twitter’s application, Twitbubble, may be onto something here.  With anything, it is up to the users to make it happen.  The site, or application alone, will not get the songbirds singing.  By the looks of all the user generated applications and input on twitter, I am sure the Twitbubble application will become more popular and may even match some soulmates.  Tweet, Tweet.

-Good afternoon, Vitamin D

lowt

the protest.

Here is my final edit for this week’s digital photo project: Protest.

Taken in Moorestown, NJ.

Where The Wild Things Are!

Spike Jonze is a genius, in the film making world as well as the photography world, here is his latest work: Where The Wild Things Are, set to release on October 16.  I think I have waited all of my childhood to see this movie.

behind the Protest.

Each week in Digital Photo there is a one word topic idea assigned for our class’s weekly project.  This week’s topic was protest,  tried some ideas out at my local skatepark.  Here is some footage of Ryan Miller ( http://www.flickr.com/photos/39932761@N08/ ) and I rolling around on a rainy Saturday afternoon…

agitation.

Don’t hold what I am about to say against me, please.  It may shock you, it make piss you off, it may mean nothing at all to you, but just hear me out.  I have fallen in love.  I repeat: I HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE.  My judgement clouded, blood rushing, clammy palms, dry mouth; this thing is straight up punch-drunk love.

Now, my woman possesses no curves.  In fact, she’s composed of ninety degree angles.  She doesn’t have that poppin’ lip gloss, or the fliest Juicy bag.  She doesn’t even have UGG(the last sound these sheep make) boots wrapping her feet in mid July.  I don’t go to the mall, movies, zoo, dinner, family outings, or any other cute couple activities with my lover.  We hold hands down alleyways, underneath society in the subways, in bare fields during  hours the sun would not even dare blink an eye; we are adventurers.  She is a confusing one, this broad.  Squinting her eyes in shadows and opening wide in the rays of the sun, fogging my vision as well as my conscience.  Sometimes I have to tape her mouth shut [this is not, by any means, a form of foreplay], or she’ll fall to the floor.

Now, I know what you are thinking at the present time: this story is beautiful, made of pure magic, that we in fact must live in a castle in the hills of Scotland, well, rest assured: this story turns tragic.  Unrequited love is the culprit to my pathetic form.  This broad takes me for granted.  Every cent spent on her, even moment thinking about her, plans moved to accommodate her unpredictable mood swings.  The worst part is, I’m not her only lover.  I am one of many.  A fly on the wall in this auditorium of affair.  Even worse than the worst part is, I can’t give her up.  She’s been embedded into my core.  Trapped between muscles and tendons and bones and skin and sorrow and joy and magic.  I can’t shake this curse, I can’t focus.

My heart has been torn and lies scattered on the darkroom floor.  Exposed to the light, but not developed.

If you have seen her, please contact me:

lowt@thisisnotanemailaddress.gov

this call is urgent, i must put the pieces back.

Goodnight and Love Long,

many thanks.

-lowt