contact us

Use the form on the right to contact us.

You can edit the text in this area, and change where the contact form on the right submits to, by entering edit mode using the modes on the bottom right.


123 Street Avenue, City Town, 99999

(123) 555-6789

[email protected]


You can set your address, phone number, email and site description in the settings tab.
Link to read me page with more information.

Making Contact

The Archive of posts

Old posts from the original Blackframes site

Making Contact

Lach Ryan


"Just poke yourself in the eye." This is essentially what my optometrist advised me to do whilst 'fitting’ my new contact lenses. Contact lenses are an optical push-up bra. Convincing both the wearer and admirer that visually there is more going on than there actually is. Recently I took up an offer from my optical dispensary to improve my eye-cleavage. After running through how to expertly poke myself in the eye and being assured that I was 'a natural' , I gathered my sample pack and headed home to try out my new mutant-vision powers.

But I could not.

It seems looking at myself in the mirror, I was unable to stick them to me. The lense would not contact with my iris. Poke after painful poke, the clear plastic bowl of enlightenment would not adhere. Try as I may, I couldn't enhance my visual capabilities due ironically to my hand-eye coordination.

Now for those readers who have not had the pleasure to lock eyes with me, let me explain something. I have been blessed with a set of eyelashes that are the love children of a mascara model and a camel. Had I not been born a man (this is a literal statement and painful fact for my mother), I would have made my living travelling the globe fluttering my eyelids for cosmetic companies. That, or providing the services of a human fan via my eyelids to a rich Arabian sheik.

Two weeks on and several attempts later, it seems my lush lashes just won't allow for the finger of revolution to deliver on its visionary promise. This provided many minutes of entertainment for my family, who would gather with popcorn and chairs to watch the sideshow freak now known as the Persistent Poker of Pain.

Maybe it is my body trying to rebel against what has become my iconic look. Perhaps the black frames that have adorned my face for the last 5 years have become like an exoskeletal-appendage. There is a power in the frames of darkness. They take over the wearer, imposing a worldview that is theirs alone. Ever since the Optical Revolution of the early 70's that saw the rise of the contact lenses, black frames and contacts have been at war. The random blindings and fatal infections may have subsided, but the tensions remain. I will remain a visual Switzerland on this conflict. My heart lies with black frames, but contact lenses seem to have a vision for the future. If only we could see eye to eye.