• Cornerstone Content,  Writing


    Minutes of daylight, as the minutes turn into hours, is the parlance of our time. Everytime I look in the mirror, I see myself staring right back at me; a fleeting glimpse of myself going round and round on a carousel cusp of why. I will never understand why my parents moved me around a lot. I was around eight years old when my parents moved me out of my birth place of New York City, and I had to change schools for the first time; I was in third grade. After grade seven, my parents moved me to a different school where I completed eighth grade. Grades nine through…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    It Came Without Warning

    The wreckage of my past is the war that’s never won. Often times I think about all the things that were said to me so many years ago; I would always listen to the negativity, silently as if I were laying down in the wake of someone else’s incompetence or insecurities, my elders and a handful of those my parents entrusted with my care having labeled me as difficult simply because I was intelligent, and quiet. When I was a child, I was always passive, reserved, and yet completely incapable of truly standing up for myself. Telling people how I really felt at the time, expressing my emotions, and finding…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    A Typical Friday’s Child

    I was born on a Friday morning, and I recently returned to the house where I was born on a Friday, almost 30 years later, a typical Friday’s child. The house was a moment froze in time, as if nothing had changed since I walked out the front door at the tender age of 8. I still remember the dimly lit hallway leading upstairs, the flocked red wallpaper, and the salt and pepper carpeting. Nothing had changed in all these years I spent away, stepping out the front door at age 8 as a small child, raised on promises. I made my way through life, living, growing, and thriving, only…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Photography

    The Exploration Of Old Lodge

    Old Lodge was a 10,000 square-foot building built circa 1890, built in Tomkins Cove, New York. Over the years it was used as a hotel, a private school, a girl scout camp, and a private residence. There are unconfirmed reports that the building was used as a nursing home for a short period of time. Years of neglect and decay have left it as a ‘shell’ of a building, and as such it has been formally condemned and entry to the building was strongly discouraged and extremely dangerous.

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    Thomas Slatin, On Writing

    Many people have asked me about my writing, specifically my process and craft, at long last the truth finally being revealed.  So here are my views, Thomas Slatin, on Writing. Titles The majority of my titles come from specific moments or keyframes in my mind. Others are obscure references to pop culture, a hidden high five or nod, so obscure that it is overlooked and perceived as mundane. Modern education has taught us to overlook the titles and to under emphasize their importance, ignoring completely their purpose and critical influence in all that we create. Titles, a summary of our creations, and a unique identifier, the title is as important…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing


    When I think of the places I used to know, the locations where keyframe events in my life took place, I feel desideratum. Almost as if there is a feeling of loss, or grief for something lost, as if in that moment I was part of something I cannot see. Forever lost, though completely intangible and metaphysical at best. The heartbreaking reality is the knowledge that most of these places I might never see again. These places helped raise me, and will forever be an integral facet of my past, complete with memories and still frames in my mind of an earlier time in life when I was still young…

  • Cornerstone Content,  Writing

    Generation Gap

    My father was 64 when I was born, and that in and of itself created perhaps the greatest generation gap I have ever encountered in my life. In some respects, by fathering a child so late in life, I may have skipped a generation. Throughout my life, my father told me that everything in the world was always subject to change, and if anything could change, it would. My father looked down upon my generation and told me that with every new generation came a new set of challenges upon the generation before it. According to him, every generation would be, among other things, less respectful of their elders, much…