Monochromatic Aberration

Two weeks after writing about my early work for the year, and the stream has stopped.

I’ve been messing around with my music library again.

As I said in my post on my goals for 2026, like 2025, 2026 will be a big year for my writing.

It’s a new year, and you know what that means: new journal.

I spent the start of the year getting lost.

This is a continuation of my series looking back on 2025, and seeing what 2026 might hold; see part one on my favorites of the year here, and part two on the state of the blog here, part three in Refrakt on the creative work I’ve done this year, and part…

This is a continuation of my series looking back on 2025, and seeing what 2026 might hold; see part one on my favorites of the year here, and part two on the state of the blog here, and part three in Refrakt on the creative work I’ve done this year.

This is a continuation of my series looking back on 2025, and seeing what 2026 might hold; see part one on my favorites of the year here, and part two on the state of the blog here.

This is a continuation of my series looking back on 2025, and seeing where 2026 might hold; see part one on my favorites of the year here, and subscribe to see the roundup of my creative work in the next issue of Refrakt before it goes out on Monday.

The year’s coming to an end, and I’m ready for it.

This newsletter has a lot of photographs, and might be viewed best on a computer or website; click the header image or title to go there.

I used to have a thing for bags (note the author’s careful use of the past tense, indicating this was merely a phase he’s long since passed, and not a continued struggle).

The poet and novelist (though I wonder what order he’d put those in, now) Ben Lerner has got a new novel coming out next year, called Transcription.

I’m a street photographer, I say.

Nichijou is one of my favorite pieces of art of all time.

Everything is a computer now.

It’s been about a month since I wrote “The End” at the bottom of my manuscript.

The calendar rolled over to November, and over the past couple of weeks, Daylight Savings time came to an end for much of the world.

I’ve been a long-time fan of the Hobonichi Techo.

Once again: I’ve redone my photography portfolio website.

Moving to Tokyo was in some ways easier than I expected; it certainly feels that way in hindsight.

I started this new category, Research, as a way to write about some of the media I'm engaging with a bit more regularly, a bit more closely, ever since I stopped writing regular reviews.

Finally, last month, I wrote “the end” into my novel manuscript.

I climbed a mountain not too long ago.

I love anime.

I’ve got a lot of hobbies.

It’s Hobonichi season.

Recently, I visited an exhibition called “Pleasure in Making: The Creative Spirit of DIY for Living” at the Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with a few friends.

People are flexible.

It should come as no surprise that two of my hobbies are photography and anime, and of course, I’m always fascinated when the two overlap.

I’m a big believer in consistency.

At the start of August, I went to a small exhibition at a place called “Paper Pools.”

Shooting Leica—or really any rangefinder—is a little different from most cameras.

I’ve long had a fascination with stationery.

Lately, with my writing, one phrase keeps coming to mind: I just need to get to the finish line.

I was nervous the first time I went to get a haircut here in Tokyo.

When I first started going to the gym, everything was hard.

I don’t shoot much film anymore.

Last week, after months of waiting, my dog finally arrived in Tokyo from America, where she’d been staying with my parents, delayed from entry by the stringent Japanese rabies-prevention procedures.

This past weekend, I went to Enoshima.

I stumbled upon Johanna Renoth’s work while looking for artists working in a similar space to me: across photography and writing, and interested in exploring things beyond the surface-level.

I recently watched an anime series which was hilariously titled Ameku M.D.: Doctor Detective.

When people ask me why I started studying Japanese, usually I say one of a few things.

Lately, there’s a thought that keeps occurring to me: I wish I were reading.

It’s been just over eight months since I rebuilt my iPod, and two weeks since I committed to using it as my only source of music for one week.

So, you’ve decided to cut the cord, break free from the algorithms, and forge your own path.

Once we started talking about moving, we started joking about joining a run club as a way to meet new people—but as time went on, it became less and less of a joke.

Heed my tale of ignorance: I finally found my old logs from when I was last lifting weights seriously, now over two years ago.

It’s been just over eight months since I rebuilt my iPod and committed to more intentionally listening to music.

I’ve decided enough is enough—I’m going to try to learn how to draw in earnest.