Hi guys,

For the past hour or so, I've been in sort of an artistic moral dilemma with myself (if that makes sense). On my way home from work tonight, around 1am, I encountered my first male exhibitionist about 200ft away from my apartment building entrance. At first, I really didn't know what to think, or how to react. I just kept walking to my door, paused on the steps to look back at the van he was leaning against, and then continued on up to my apartment. Naturally, the first thing I did when I got to my room was to go and tweet what just happened. And then half way through the typing the tweet, I thought, well, if this is twitter worthy then it is most definitely photo worthy. Within an instant I was suddenly SO excited to get my camera and go back to the exhibitionist. I threw my camera on my shoulder, dragged my roommate out of her NyQuil comatose sleep, and armed myself with two cans of pepper spray that my grandmother just sent me in the mail. I was so ready. Unfortunately it was too late. In only 15 minutes after walking by him on my way home from work, he was gone. My roommate was pissed. I was devastated. I came back to my room and sunk into my futon in disappointment. But then I thought, "Why am I so upset? This is no normal reaction to what I just experienced. Would photographing this exhibitionist be exploiting his mental sickness? Even if its probably what every exhibitionist would love, would photographing them still be wrong? Does my interest in this situation make me equally as sick? Yes, probably. But, if you think about it, how is this any different from any other subculture or scene?"