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collecting old kodak cameras

“death must be so beautiful…to forget time, to forgive life, to be at peace” (the bell jar) my grandmother recently passed away; she left behind a house full of delicate treasures i intend to treat with much care. there are a few things in life so beautiful they hurt—for me, that would be the predicament of inheritance i find myself in. how do you begin to enjoy someone else’s house full of things, if the home is empty and void of life? what is this death but a negligable accident that permits unbroken continuity? i found this Kodak 2000 disc camera, alongside a mountain of clothes, while going through my grandmother’s treasures. these seemingly miscellaneous things she eventually grew to omit the value in—seeing as they had been tucked away at the back of her closet—now hold much value for me. they serve as reminders of all her existence and livelihood. the camera in itself is pretty useless in terms of functionality considering the fact that disc film is a discontinued still-photography film format, but the sentimental value behind it renders it’s worthiness as a collectors item [unless of course, someone knows where i can find kodacolor HR disc film 15 exp.]

@madhearts

Oct 20, 2024

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embracing your own unavoidable heartbreak

wrote about death and my cat Stu (who is still very much alive!!!). it's weird but i like it.

@ethansawyer

Sep 20, 2024

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This is hard for me to answer!

Because these are the moments I cherish most in life, and they feel so integrated into who I am that it’s hard to recall them individually… * Going to reclaimed lumber yards, architectural salvage shops, quarries, plant nurseries, and the DUMP with my dad in his bright red '90s GMC Sierra. * Going to the alpaca farm with my family and seeing my mom get her hair eaten by a camel (see below photo which is a picture of a picture of our ancient family dome iMac—my dad managed to immortalize this moment forever. I’m the one with the denim hat). * Snow in the desert… almost never happened, but when it did, it was a big deal, so it’s still special to me every time I see snow living up north. * Every moment I spent with my dearly departed childhood pets and my own three pets that have passed. I feel lucky to have documented my time with my pets so thoroughly, so I can look back and remember every little moment. * Going to my grandparents’ house on the lake in the DFW area for Christmas. Before my grandmother developed dementia, she had a distant, chilly WASPish demeanor but showed her love through her homemaking. They had a beautiful home with the most relaxing and cozy atmosphere. I loved waking up early with her and my grandfather before everybody else, pouring a cup of freshly percolated coffee, and sitting in the sunroom reading the Dallas Morning News as the sun came up. The ticking of their clocks and the sounds of them puttering around in the kitchen, starting some elaborate breakfast, put me at ease. I had a very complicated relationship with my grandfather, to say the least (which you can read about in the attached link—I tried to embed it in this parenthetical but the link window is broken), but their house gave me a feeling of being home that I never had anywhere else.

@taterhole

Nov 28, 2024

Top Recs from @taterhole

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Never changing

My dad teases me about how when I was a little kid, my favorite thing to do when I was on the landline phone with somebody—be it a relative or one of my best friends—was to breathlessly describe the things that were in my bedroom so that they could have a mental picture of everything I loved and chose to surround myself with, and where I sat at that moment in time. Perfectly Imperfect reminds me of that so thanks for always listening and for sharing with me too 💌

@taterhole

Feb 23, 2025

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SURFING THE TIDES OF THE EVERYONE TAB

I am a woman of the people

@taterhole

May 28, 2025

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Rejecting the Commodification of the Self

I’ve been thinking about how much of social media is centered around curating our self-image. When selfies first became popular, they were dismissed as vain and vapid—a critique often rooted in misogyny—but now, the way we craft our online selves feels more like creating monuments. We try to signal our individuality, hoping to be seen and understood, but ironically, I think this widens the gap between how others perceive us and who we really are. Instead of fostering connection, it can invite projection and misinterpretation—preconceived notions, prefab labels, and stereotypes. Worse, individuality has become branded and commodified, reducing our identities to products for others to consume. On most platforms, validation often comes from how well you can curate and present your image—selfies, aesthetic branding, and lifestyle content tend to dominate. High engagement is tied to visibility, not necessarily depth or substance. But I think spaces like PI.FYI show that there’s another way: where connection is built on shared ideas, tastes, and interests rather than surface-level content. It’s refreshing to be part of a community that values thoughts over optics. By sharing so few images of myself, I’ve found that it gives others room to focus on my ideas and voice. When I do share an image, it feels intentional—something that contributes to the story I want to tell rather than defining it. Sharing less allows me to express who I am beyond appearance. For women, especially, sharing less can be a radical act in a world where the default is to objectify ourselves. It resists the pressure to center appearance, focusing instead on what truly matters: our thoughts, voices, and authenticity. I’ve posted a handful of pictures of myself in 2,500 posts because I care more about showing who I am than how I look. In trying to be seen, are we making it harder for others to truly know us? It’s a question worth considering.

@taterhole

Dec 27, 2024