it’s been a month. it feels like ten years. i printed off plenty of new photographs today. i guess it means i have an idea what it will look like tonight. there’s a pile of polaroids waiting for me to create a new world out of them. new ideas, new shapes.
as i’m reading bright shiny morning now, i have couple of things on my mind. the same style, the core of the storyline lies hidden in the streets of los angeles, blended in a mixture of sex, drugs and alcohol. only now there’s ten times more characters and details to remember, to hate, or to love. bright shiny morning is more complex than his other books. he plays with the characters, creates them in all forms and shapes, yet they still have one thing in common: they are all lost in this big ugly world, they wake up and fall asleep as victims of bureaucratic system. they suffer they are in pain of some sorts. a very realistic world in a very realistic story. lost and empty just as, i imagine, james frey himself once was. maybe still is. maybe he never got out of it. he didn’t. he will always be an addict. just like the rest of us. what appeals to me the most about his books is the language used. one liners. short and sharp. honest. hurtful revealing of reality we all starve for.
his words trigger my imagination like firework.