Liberté

   In the middle of New York harbor stands something not many know about, even if they think they do. It is an Eiffel Tower of sorts, one not visible from the open skyline, but from the inside of the Statue of Liberty.

   This structure is in fact, what is keeping the statue upright, it is the statues skeleton. It is ingenuity designed by a brilliant individual, Gustave Eiffel, a French individual, as part of a gift to America.

   It is now that very same integrity, compassion and generosity that the French people are exhibiting in the face of a truly despicable act. The courage and grace the are showing in light of todays tragedy is something we can all learn from.

   Sadly, this is something they have seen before. Sadly, this is something we too have seen before. The coming days will see many reactions, ranging from grief to anger, and likely everything in between. This is a natural human reaction to a catastrophic event. One reaction that I fear is unwarranted violence. Violence is not an answer to an act of violence. This is not an example where, "fighting fire with fire" will solve anything. "An eye for an eye" will not end this. Nor will a rush to judgement without knowing the facts.

   Today was a terrible, terrible day. The best way to combat it, is to celebrate life. Give. Live. Love.

   There has been an image that has caught on in the past few hours. It features the Eiffel Tower as a peace symbol. That is not simply the French way, it should be the universal way.

   Some will argue that this is not the time for peace. This is the time to react with, "swift, unquenching, unrelenting justice." I ask you, what, precisely will this accomplish? Violence begets more violence.

   There are many who argue that these are, "terrorist masterminds." No they're not. "Masterminds" are brilliant people who solve hunger, cure diseases, discover new species and reach for the stars. No, the people who did this were cowards who hide behind a shield of weakness and fear. They are afraid of the freedom and lust for life that the people of France and the rest of the civilized world relish and enjoy every day.

   We as a race, as a people are better then the sum of our weakest. The strength of our kindness is what we should choose to put in the spotlight.

   What was the response of the French people following todays acts? They opened their doors to offer safe harbor to those in need. Normal citizens, in the midst of a city gripped by the unknowing terror of cowards, giving refuge to total strangers. That is what today should be remembered for. Humanity. Love. Compassion. Hope. Giving.

    That gift Gustave Eiffel helped fashion stands in the middle of our harbor not just as a gift from the French, it was proof that they stood, defiantly on the side of Liberty and peace with us in a time of struggle. Now it is our time to stand with them, to lift them up when they've been knocked down.

   Our best self must be shown. It is not the fire of a gun or an explosion for which this day should be remembered, but the fire of, "Liberty Enlightening The World." that should resonate. That is human way, and as we witnessed tonight, the French way.

Vive la France!

Blue Thunder

   When i write about today, i usually try and put a positive spin on things...try and encourage light through the darkness. This year however, that might be a difficult task to accomplish.

Personally, the past 14 years have been one unending roller coaster, and now, I fear i'm at the lowest dip on the ride, and i'm just not sure I have enough gas in the tank to make it to the top.

Fourteen years ago, the world changed, irrecoverably. Your world and mine. Fear replaced joy, anger replaced common sense, and i'm still not sure it can ever be the same, and in some ways, I fear we've...i've...grown so accustomed to this way of living, instead of fighting to restore the world we once knew, we fight to further isolate ourselves, to push away those we love, and those that love us. We turn away help instead of asking for it, we lash out, with hostile abandon at the slightest thing. We shun differences behind a mask of acceptance. It's sad.

I'm sad. Yes, woe is me, as the the cliche goes. Well, to be honest, woe is an apt way to to describe my current situation.

I remember the summer of 1994. I remember the heat seeping in through the windows of our apartment. It would bake the wooden doors and give off this ever so slight sweet smell that would permeate through the house, like every summer. To me, that was the sign summer arrived. Sure the calendar would say June 21 is the true start to summer(and my birthday), but to me, summer actually began when that scent entered my nostrils. That summer was, for some reason, to me at least, the pinnacle of my life, it was where I thought all things would be possible. I thought I could accomplish anything.

I was foolish. As I lay here in my darkened room, body wrecked and mind weary, I look back at that time and shake my head.

One can only endure so many hits, so much bad news until you wonder, "what the hell am I doing wrong?" Bills. Injuries. Lost family. Lost Loves. Lost Friends. Loss of peace of mind. Life is loss, thats all it seems to be.

Lately I find myself laying awake in bed each morning, asking, internally, "whats the point?", then I shuffle my feet to the floor and press through the day, numbly trudging through the seemingly endless "thank you for your interest, but we've decided to look at other candidates." emails. I look up at my diploma, a framed reminder of tirelessly learning a skill that I really have no true talent in. Then my eyes shift to a wall of framed photos. Photos of friends and family, all of them smiling. Enjoying life as it should be. I silently wonder when i'll see these people....if i'll see these people again. No one wants to be around, "Mr. Woe is me.", I mutter to myself. A 33 year old joke that life has passed by.

"Whats the point?" I again ask myself. This time my glance turns over at my running shoes, positioned neatly under weights that i'm unsure of when i'll be able to lift again.

In many ways, I think I injured more then my arm, I injured my psyche. Perhaps that was always damaged and this simply brought it to the forefront. It made me realize how fragile things can be. It's personally reminiscent of that day fourteen years ago, when the realization that reality is at times, needlessly tragic.

I'm not ok. I don't know how to be ok, I know what people say makes them ok. They think because it worked for them, it will work for everyone. That's not how things work. Things don't simply, "get better" because of a magic pill, or a happy picture. It requires a lot more, and i'm just not sure how to go about it anymore. I've exhausted option after option, and been met with no results. This is something I find ironic in our, "mental health is the most important thing!" culture.

It's incredibly hard sometimes, to even go outside, with an ever encroaching fear, dread and sense of worthlessness in your system. I think that part of me sometimes hates my life so much right now that i'm at the point where one big motivating factor is that I want to get revenge on my own bad luck so much I just keep plowing through the day just to piss my bad luck off. I'm stubborn like that. I can't keep that up forever though. No one can. Thats not how you live life. You're supposed to be happy right? Life, Liberty, and the pursuit of Happiness. Thats one of our rights, isn't it?

Well, i'm still waiting on it to come to fruition. I've tried to make happen, but to little or no avail. Trying and failing time after time after time is not ennobling, its simply exhausting.




Once more, I glance up at the picture wall. I see the photo of Larry Sullivan. Ok Larry...I'll keep pushing.

   I'm listening to KISS now. It was my cousin Joe's favorite band. As I start to write this tome, the date reads June 25th. He has been gone two years. This October he would have turned 47.

   As far as blood family goes, he was more like a big brother then a cousin. More of a mentor and a best friend then any of my family, outside of my parents of course. Joe was far greater a person then I could ever hope to be.

   He, in spite of seemingly endless tough breaks never let the world keep him down for too long. He was the quintessential optimist in a world that, at times, seemed to revel in negativity. When, during, "the storm", he lost it all, he still managed to put on a brave face, smile, and find a ray of sunshine through it all.

   That he always, to this day manages to put a smile on my face is something I wish he knew. Be it through his kindness of heart, or his, and I am not exaggerating here, endless stories, he always found a way to pick me up. If I lived life half the way he did, it'd be an accomplishment.

   He will always be my best friend.

The E-Street Band, Performing Live At The Enchantment Under The Sea Dance!

   I don't exactly remember the last words my mother said to me. She was far gone by that point, physically, whereas, I was too far gone mentally and emotionally. I know I was afraid. I didn't know how i'd carry on without her.

   12 years later it still seems like just yesterday. Its kind of difficult to grasp how much has transpired in what in my mind anyway, amounts to a short period of time. Twelve years shouldn't have rushed by as quickly. But I look to where I am now as opposed to then and I think the trials I went through prepared me to better survive those of today.

   She knew and accepted the outcome of her diagnosis and faced it without fear. She did not fight it, which at the time angered me. Then I realized, after a while, in some odd way, she gave me her final bit of strength to fight what would be the hardest time of my life. Its as if she knew the days ahead would be filled with difficulty, but somehow, I made it through. I've often told of how trying those times were, and sometimes been met with, "how did you not jump off a bridge?" For starters, I don't like heights. Unless there's rope involved, I do not like them. Even then, i'm not a fan. But...I made it becuase she gave me the strength. For the record, i'm an Atheist full and through, but I know, in some way, she helped me through it all.

   Shes not in the clouds looking after me. I'm well aware of that. If that was the case, I wouldn't be going through what I am now. But I know, inside me, shes there in some way. She is the reason people claim I make good art. If dressing my friends up in costume is what she had in mind at the time, i'm unsure of that, but I am sure I enjoy it, and she would absolutely love that. She loved the idea of art, of creativity, be it with a paintbrush or a pencil.

   I choose to remember her by trying to make my own kind of art. I use a camera. Or multiple cameras. The camera holds memory, both in physical and psychological form. You look at a photo and your mind snaps to what was happening at that moment, and the mind starts to imagine. And thats what I love about the art of photography. It gets the imagination in motion. That in turn, gives the spark to the engine that will produce excellent or horrible ideas. The only way to find out what the result is to go for it. Make art. Good or bad.

   Thats what she would want me to do, and thats what I am doing. I'm doing something. I'm in motion.

   I find that when i'm not in motion, I struggle more. I think thats one of the reasons I run. I feel better when I run. I don't like stopping. I don't like stasis.

   I like energy. I like movement, flow, locomotion. Maybe one day i'll stop, but for now, I just have to keep on going. Keep moving, keep pushing, keep producing. And there again, is the big message. Keep doing, keep going, but above all, keep being excellent. Thats what she would want, and i'm fairly sure all our maternal figures would want.

Boxing With Doc Hollywood And The Geenie

   I've been working to get a photo project off the ground where I photograph people looking up at me as I stand on a slightly elevated position facing down. The whole thing came about from something I've noticed. Everyone looks down these days. Literally and figuratively. Smartphones, Tablets, Smartwatches. Down, Down, Down. I'm guilty of it as well.

   The past few weeks in general have had a downtown look towards them. Building explosions, journalists passing away, terror attacks...its all so depressing. I'm already depressed, so i suppose this project is another one of my many ways to find an outlet...or a means to help fight that depression.

   So, with that in mind, i'm calling it, "Always looking up." I took the title from Michael J Fox's first book, of the same name, with the subtitle, "the adventures of an incurable optimist."

   Now i won't go as far as to call myself that, but I tend to skew towards hope and light in the world as opposed to darkness, which is why my geek hero of choice was Superman. No disrespect to Batman, whom I also like, but I need light and happy in my world. I know a lot of folks tend to say, "The world is not a happy place." Well, those people need to watch a baby laugh. That'll change their mind right quick.

   With this in mind, in the coming days, weeks and months, i'm gonna need some help with this and a few other projects, so if you could be so kind, keep yer eyes open, and look up, you might catch a glimpse of something wonderful.

Effie, Brace Yourself...The Mayor Threw Thunder In Jail

   Earlier this month would have been my mothers birthday. Each year I try and write a little something to keep my mind at ease. The whole idea of writing is something that came about as sort of a cathartic way to cope with the eleventh of September, and has sort of morphed into an even further form of catharsis.

   I'm not a writer by nature, I'm a photographer, as well as a kind and gentle lover, or so i've been told by...well no one. But maybe that lucky someone will say it. More then likely she'll say, "what are you doing? you do know this isn't Showtime After Dark right?"

   But yes, I'm a photographer. People sometimes ask me, "Luke, how many batteries did you lick as a kid?" followed by, "Why do you stick with photography when you should be doing anything else?" After informing them it was only 15 batteries and that they were only triple A's....I get to answer the other question, and i've come up with this answer; Photography for me is utterly freeing which is a bit...interesting, in that i'm essentially freezing a moment forever. If that sounds a bit oxymoronic, it is, but bear with me.

   Photography is a beautiful thing. When I have a camera in my hands, I instantly feel better about the world. I won't say all problems disappear, but they seem further away. I feel like i'm in my element, like its where I belong. From the feeling of a shutter click to the smell of a darkroom, from the euphoria of a shoot gone well, to the weary happiness at the end of a long edit...it all just feels right. Thats what I love about photography. But lately it seems as though it's not good enough for the world.

   No one cares if you are passionate about something it seems. You're simply looked upon as some kind of obsessive lunatic who doesn't know how to, "grow up." as they say.

   My mother wouldn't have stood for that. She didn't. She did things her own way. She dreamed, just like I do. Today, twenty nine years ago, seven others followed their dreams on the backs of legends, and though they took a different path, and their ride to Valhalla, like my mothers, ended far too soon, I am here to pick up the reins.

   I am here because I am too damn stubborn to quit. It's hard, life has always been that way, especially lately, but through every time I cry, I somehow hope to gain a little strength from it. I don't know how...Inspiration is a fickle thing, but when it does strike, it carries me further and further each time.  One day its photographing book biting girls, the next its capturing the moment that pie goes -SPLAT!- in someones face.

   Everyone finds their own inspiration, be it through photography, cooking, acting, etc., I just hope that people stay with their chosen passion and not let too much reality take it away. As the great Robin Williams once said, "You are only given a little spark of madness, you mustn't lose it."