(I don’t know who’s photos they are… happy to credit whomever I lifted them from on FB. Gio, maybe? The last one is probably Gus.)
Since they’ve started using this shot, it should be safe to share. Was very happy to do a photo shoot a couple weeks ago with Since Antarctica. They were as hawt as they are awesome.
I wrote this in a long post a couple years ago, but I really like it still, so it bears repeating:
Looking back, every person I consider important — every relationship, male or female, that means something to me — initially flared up in my life like a struck match.
A few friends and I…
Celebrating at Jeff’s house for Halloween. Wonderful night. Friends, good, costumes, drinks, dancing, …
They already posted the photo to Facebook, so I guess it’s safe to share…
Congratulations to Jesse and Tara on their marriage. It was a beautiful day, for an wonderful couple.
Another year, another dragon*con. The closest thing I have to an annual vacation. 5 days in Atlanta with friends and 50,000 additional crazy people. Less dancing on my part, this year, for various reasons. It’s a strange time… always seems to include fun, friends, tragedy, illness, food, lust, costumes, and more. There’s the old and cranky people, and the young and crazy. The obsessive, and the laid back. But you know… despite being 4 days full of often intoxicated, sleepless, hyped up people, everyone I have ever met there — in the halls, in the events, in the rooms, in the elevators — they have all been friendly and happy. That’s kinda weird.
I posted this back in April, to a private thing. At the time, I didn’t want to stir up any real trouble. But I think everyone has sorted themselves out a bit more by now. By way of editor’s notes, Chiaroscuro was a “goth/industrial” club in DC and Spellbound, in their own words, is “Alternative, Darkwave, and Industrial”… a Goth/Industrial nightclub.
At Spellbound this week, I had a regular attendee question me. They came up to me multiple times, and asked why I was there. I wasn’t dressed right, so I obviously wasn’t goth. I shouldn’t be there. So why did I go there?
Surprisingly, my first reaction wasn’t “Dude… you’re getting in the way of my intoxicated white guy dance, and numerous attempts to get shot down by that hot chick!” But aside from pointing out that I obviously had dressed up for a night out, I generally ignored him. What are you supposed to say, to such a ridiculously immature question?
I could argue that I’ve been attending since the night it opened, when I came out in support of a friend’s involvement, and Chiaroscuro before that. I could point out that Spellbound doesn’t bill itself as strictly “goth”. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized how important these clubs had/have been to my life.
People I met in Chiaro turned into some of my best friends. At least one of them was wearing a pink suit at the time, no less. (And years later, as a wife and mom, she is still more of an awesome badass than any chain-draped, boot-wearing, pierced freak I’ve met since.) In fact, probably 95% of the people I’ve met at these clubs have been the sweetest, smartest, most interesting people I know. People who’ve supported me, comforted me, challenged me, protected me, changed me.
When I found out my father was in a hospital about to pass away, I had 16 hours until my flight, so I went to Spellbound. One awesome lady who didn’t even know what was going on in my life sat with me at the back of the bar all night and cheered me up.
More than once when I couldn’t deal with the crap in my own life, I was able to go to Spellbound and stare at the dance floor, listening to music I love… and just zone out for a while. As someone said to me this week… “attain a zen state”.
When I first started drinking, rather late in life, this was a safe place for me to learn. I felt safe, both with the staff and the people around me.
It’s brought me friends. It’s brought me business. It’s brought me lust and love. It’s introduced me to music and lifestyles and art I never would have known otherwise. I’ve been to other types of clubs, bars and events, and awesome as some of them were, they still didn’t match up.
With the help of their teams, Kelowna and Lori Beth created wonderful places to go, that have led me directly and indirectly to a place where I am very happy with my life.
So that’s kind of why I go.
So… drunk guy… you’re saying you go primarily to look like a cool goth?
Friday – Amanda’s Birthday
Saturday – Shannon’s Birthday
You have to shut off all of those voices and look for these special moments—these moments that you accept you have no control over. So much of my job is to not think—to be open to what’s there, and then use my intuition to see where it takes me.
– Rick Rubin
I posted the following two bits on Facebook a couple weeks ago; but I wanted to share them here as well, for long term archiving:
So yes. As of yesterday evening, the sale of the house is officially complete. I am now a poor homeowner.
Commentary on the whole thing will come. But for now, I want to thank two people, without whom it never would have happened: Heidi and Jason.
Heidi contributed to changing almost everything in my life in the last few years. And without her support in numerous ways, I never could have gotten to the end of this process.
Jason went above and beyond the call of duty as a realtor/broker. I can’t imagine a better problem-solver or more enthusiastic conspirator. Even if you’re only thinking about buying a place, you should start talking to him now. I’ve watched him help so many of my friends through every step of the process.
Still haven’t written up the dirty laundry behind the home sale. But, since I already thanked a couple people, I wanted to extend that out a bit. Plenty of people helped me out over the course of the thing. The people who helped me move stuff in and out of storage. People who loaned me tools and such. People who listened to the good and the bad. People who took me out and made me forget my stress. People who offered to beat up the offending parties. Not gonna try and list names, because I would no doubt forget someone. But you all were awesome.
The two most recent photos in my flickr feed. I find the juxtaposition kind of funny. I like my life. I love ‘my’ women.
This may have been the first time I met Dave. Very much him, though. An island of still, deliberate thought in a world of chaos.
Up in New York, Ren Faire was always a lot of fun. A once or twice a summer trip. Having visited other fairs since, I can tell you it’s definitely one of the better setups. Permanent buildings, decent infrastructure. Lots of fun to go and enjoy the weirdness.
But down here, I have friends. Weird friends. Weird friends with weird interests. And some of them really get into Ren Faire. Specifically the Maryland Renaissance Faire. Many, many times a summer, even. So much so that it’s a good bet if I went to the White Hart tavern on any given weekend, I would find people i know. Immersing yourself in the weirdness is one thing… doing so with a bunch of people like this makes it awesome.
Another year of Dragon*Con has come and gone. I think I have mostly recovered, now. Though I still haven’t completely unpacked.
What was new this year, for me? New people, as always. (Tiny, drunk lesbians. Impossibly sweet, little, Indian woman. The lady with the most awesome job ever. “Don’t panic” girl.) And dancing each night until 6am. (Well… white guy “dancing”). Hearing Bruce Schneier, Alice Cooper, James Randi, Anthony Michael Hall, Billy West, and David Prowse speak. Nothing really special from the vendors this year… a couple pins and some pieces of art. Though there was an awesome gift for a friend, found in the artists’ alley.
As always, the real enjoyment for me is relaxing with friends and taking pictures.
Wonderful night out with friends… well… most of the second half of last week. Thursday was the Die Antwoord concert I’d been waiting for. Friday I got out of the house as needed, and ended up bar hopping on H Street with friends and catching a Burlesque Show at the Red Palace. (Ran into Katie, from the Derby… very nice to see her again).
Saturday was the housewarming for Eldridge. He has a wonderful new place out in the woods of suburban MD. There was fire, watermelon decapitation, lightsaber fights with hawt chicks, and plenty of barbecued meat. Rounded out the night sitting on the roof with awesome friends, watching the party dwindle down below.
Mo quoted last night, “Everyone is experiencing the worst thing in the history of the world.”
…Until you talk to someone else and find out what their worst thing is.
Saw another Since Antarctica show out at Fat Tuesday’s. Wonderful time. The music was, of course, awesome. The hipsters were a bit much, bouncing in front of me every time I went to take a photo. Amanda (sparklypoof) thoughtfully offered to kick their ass, for me, though.
Why yes I do lead a quiet, monastic life of solitude, contemplation, and self-sacrifice. Why do you ask?
I grew up in Central NY. Very rural. Think pig farms, corn fields, and cow barns. Pre internet days; so if it wasn’t in the library and your friends didn’t know about it, then it didn’t exist. A fairly conservative upbringing. All within reason of course. My parents were either fairly open-minded, or at least they were willing to let me do things even if they thought those things were stupid.
But my life since then gets progressively weirder. College is obliged to be weird. But while I never even considered it at the time, you might have expected a move to DC to involve fairly conservative lifestyle. But, well, yeah, no.
Between DC, and various offshoots of my life here, I find myself exposed to, and living in, a life that is full of variety, flavor, and thank gawd, the occasional vice. My friends are a wonderfully eclectic group. As a whole, they do everything, they love everything, they try everything. And if they don’t, someone they’re about to introduce me to probably does. In the language of my rural upbringing, I’m surrounded by freaks. And I love them all. But I have a special place in my heart for the truly non-linear. The people who’ve moved whole-heartedly away from the existing social conventions. Sex, drugs, love, art, body, and home. They don’t experiment with alternative ideas; they are living them. And the extreme end of those people; the ‘strangest’ ones; the one’s who never would have existed in the small world I grew up in… those are the most amazingly sweet, caring , wonderful people. They’re the most mature, about these strange lifestyles. And they’ve never failed to smile when they see me, talk to me when needed, and watch out for me at all times. My friends are all awesome, but the freaks are truly the best.
This is one of those sets of images I come back to every so often, when I’ve learned new things. I try new things, see if I’m any better than I was, with my tools. Yeah I like this much better. But she was still pretty awesome to begin with.
Did a photoshoot on Sunday with Daria. Probably won’t release much from it until her project is done, though.
I just love this photo. That is all. I saw them being cute on the hill above me, while I was taking some photos of the house, and when I pointed the lens at them, they posed. Normally I hate poses. But this came out very nice. And I had to laugh when I looked at it later, and realized how similar their poses were. I have a picture somewhere of my mother and sister unconsciously doing the same thing.
This is Rockstar Shannon. This is not Friend Shannon. Friend Shannon is not as angsty and full of venom as my show photos of her often look. Friend Shannon sits in her old apartment, playing a highly customized version of “horse with no name” on an acoustic guitar; wearing long, stripey socks. But Rockstar Shannon is pretty awesome too.
And to all my friends who are jealous of the attention these few women received? It’s just because you don’t pay me as much to do your PR as they do.
I’m a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work the more I have of it.
– Thomas Jefferson (via holly)
If you go home with someone, and they don’t have any books, don’t fuck them.
– John Waters
(As always, tons more photos on flickr.)
But those are some of the points that floated to the surface, when I consider the whirlwind stew of crowds, panels, badges, Diet Cokes, swishy skirts, feathery hairpieces, earplugs, DragonCon TV, people-watching, masquerades, escalators, fountains, cheers, novelty tee shirts, kilts, stompy boots, steampunks, goths, fairies, mostly naked people, Krispy Kreme donuts, squinting at small print, shouting to nab the attention of friends, hanging off balconies, photobombing by accident, photobombing on purpose, nachos at Moe’s, the Hyatt bar, the smokers’ pavilion, the tracks, the joys, the trials, the confusions, the rewards, the unfortunate costumes, the brilliant costumes, the friends and the foes and the people who become your new best friends in the elevators, the mundanes who had NO IDEA wtf was going on they were just here for a football game OH GOD, air mattresses, corsets, hairspray, rum, devil babies, angel babies, running out of time, shopping for goodies, trolling for schwag, handing out handbills, trying to stash all the business cards and CDs and postcards that people handed me while I wasn’t carrying a bag, and trying to sound intelligent for hours at a time against all odds.
– Cherie Priest, DragonCon: The Recap
I’ve posted a collection from my most recent photoshoot: http://strangeday.net/shoots/rachel/
Last weekend, in recovery mode after a party of which no photos will be posted here, some friends revealed ignorance of the joys of wet corn starch. This needed to be resolved, and the next hour or so was spent playing at the dining table, and making a thoroughly satisfying mess.
Nice guys: “Why do we have to start conversations? Why don’t girls start ’em?”
We don’t have to; guys with spines are already talking to us.
This is one of those instances where the photo isn’t necessarily flattering, but is a wonderful image. Captured Sunday afternoon while enjoying caffeine in the park.
It’s a bit frustrating. There were like 6 epic things that happened this weekend that I can’t or won’t talk about publicly. Poo. But it was a damn good weekend, overall.
So… are you coming to my birthday party this Friday?
I think it’s the sign of a successful night when I get slapped, bitten, and kissed on the cheek by the same woman. That was basically how yesterday wrapped up.
I honestly can’t remember the first half of the day. Don’t think I was very productive or anything, then. But around 5pm, things kicked off. There was a flashmob wedding on the steps of the Supreme Court. (It’s very weird telling a cabbie to “take me to the supreme court”.)
That was followed up with the opening night for the DCist Exposed photo show. This is the show I had a picture in last year. No picture this year, but at least 2 of my friends were in it. Living up to it’s history, the opening night was slammed. Hundreds or more people filling a huge gallery space and extending in a line down the block. Open bar, this year, and a ‘real’ DJ setup. Couldn’t get a good comprehensive look at the photos. But my overall impression was that they were better than last year.
Dinner at an Indian place in Chinatown, and we all went out to the club afterward. Very much fun was had, and very many people were spoken to. And seen as how I had actually had something to eat this time, I had no problems making it through the night completely aware of my surroundings.
I do have to wonder about my friends, though. I was demanding more beautiful women, and they offered me two hairy — one large and one small — men. Seriously… ?
Reworking some photos from the shannon shoot from a year or so back. Learning new things all the time, and realizing how questionable the old shots look. Some revamped images, and a couple new ones.
(Click for the whole set, duh)
I think I have fulfilled one of my lifelong goals, with this comment I received today:
I know I needed the laugh and believe it or not u r the first one I think of when I think of any comment about my ass!! hard to believe I know
New Year’s Eve with friends, at friends’. Plenty of party pictures. Click any image for the full set.
(Click on any image for the whole set)
When the hell did it get to be 4:30 AM? Last time I checked, it was 1:50. Then there was hawt chicks, and crepes. and music and …
Oh I give up.
Click on any photo to be taken to the full set.
(Questions or comments about why so many pictures have attractive women in them, will probably be answered with “duh”)
Fun weekend, involving movies, dinners, photography shows, graduation parties, and tacos.
I said it… Tacos!
I went looking for an old photo today, of a friend back in college. Open the “photos” folder, open the “people” folder, open the “friends” folder. Looking at the thumbnails, I’m immediately struck that the majority of photos are disturbingly attractive women. Kind of self-selectig, no doubt. Women are typically more comfortable in front of the camera. And if a photographer has a choice of who to photograph, how many wouldn’t choose the hawt chick? (These are not photos I’ve taken)
Are beautiful women that common? Am I that lucky? Am I delusional? Should I just shut up and enjoy it?
There was a lot going on in my life this year, somewhat behind the scenes. (Though of course some of it leaked out. Damn reality.) Makes it hard to talk about certain things without bringing up other things.
There was a woman this year. Okay… there were two women this year. But there was one woman who really helped turn my life upside down. Haven’t had a crush like that in… well… forever. But rather than sit back and pine and admire from afar, I told her how I felt.
See… as far as I always knew, that’s where the drama was supposed to end, one way or another. This is either a good thing for them, or not. But as I recently wrote, my outlook up to that point had not been particularly realistic nor mature. I wish I could go back and have had just a tiny bit of understanding for that brief time. Not because I want to change the outcome. I can’t find the words to say why. But that’s what I wish.
I had some problems. I never should have gone in with assumptions, first of all. It set me off on the wrong foot to start with. There were misunderstandings. Oh so many misunderstandings and miscommunications. And there was very much me not being in the frame of mind that I should be. (I know that one’s still a bit vague, but that’s all you get for right now.)
I’m trying to think of how to describe her. It’s hard to look back to immediately before everything, and remember what I thought of her then. Like what I saw before was a shell of something. (Not to say I know the whole story now.) But some things hold true, still. Her and I led very different lives. But there’s more in common between our backgrounds than almost any friend I have. She is smart in a way that’s almost scary. She’s said she bullshits some of it, but I’ve yet to catch her at it. Every topic. Every idea. Every argument. And she does have the opinions to go with that knowledge. Oh my gawd, when she gets passionate about something…it’s a joy to watch and hear. I just sit there smiling like a dummy. And she is beautiful. I’ve been trying for 10 minute to figure out how to describe her beauty, and I can’t find a fitting way. I think I did tell her once, perfectly. But I’ll be damned if I share that moment with everyone else. Just know that there are times where the sight of her can just make my brain stop. If you know what that means, then you know what that means.
That’s just the surface shit. The stuff I knew before, and still believe. When we thankfully came out the other side of the surprisingly short bit of drama, I was left with a much more complex picture than I imagined existed. But I think I was left with a different, better friendship as well. And one of a kind that I needed right now. I know this sounds like the immediate justifications of someone who didn’t get the girl. I keep worrying it is. But it’s been about 6 months now. And she’s still incredible.
Hopefully this is out of my system now. Been wanting to write something about this since day 1. Though.. you know… if I disappear in a few weeks, after she’s read this, could you send someone ’round to collect the remains?
‘Scuze me while I work my way backwards through the last few days:
Sunday was actually both relaxing and kinda productive. Started off the morning going to Eastern Market. No new toys, (although I found both TLR and folding cameras in good condition!). But I did pick up some fresh fruit. Went from there to the mall, looking for a carrying case for my newest toy. Didn’t end up buying anything though… not willing to pay $30 for a piece of plastic, when nicer cases for older models cost less. I understand the concept — that since the newer model is a premium object, the consumer is probably going to be able and willing to pay more for the associated accessories. But that’s not me. So I went back across town again and did some grocery shopping. I am loving the new Safeway. They’ve obviously been studying the success of stores like Wegmans, because they’re picking up a lot of their architecture and methods. I now have cheesecake! When I got home and realized it was only early afternoon, I went back out and picked up some frame so I could hang some of the art I’ve been gathering over the years. I like the new wall. Though it makes me realize my photo wall is too crowded, and I need to spread those out a bit.
Saturday started with a haircut. I am once again purty. Then meeting Kier to go to the Small Press Expo. I enjoyed it, this year. There was a lot of good, quality work. Past years had seen too many shoe-gazers and too much really weak art. But this year there was a decent range and a variety of styles. Picked up a couple things. And though I couldn’t convince anyone else to go, I planned on hitting Spellbound that night. It really has been a long time since I went. But my 9:30 “quick nap” didn’t end until nearly 2am, at which point it wasn’t worth it. Gawd I’m old.
Friday was normal amounts of work. Nothing special. That night, Stephanie came over for pizza and a movie. A movie with cameras and hawt, hawt, lesbian sex, of course. Was nice because I also hadn’t seen Stephanie in a while.
Thursday was a fairly average work day as well. Though I did manage to put together a piece I really liked, and somehow the client chose that version as well. (No doubt they’ll destroy it yet in edits). That evening, I met with friends at a local restaurant to watch the Vice Presidential debate. I gotta say, regardless of your politics, Palin really is just about the worst speaker I’ve seen in national politics in a long time. There were points where the moderator looked like she couldn’t believe what was happening, and stopped to ask Palin if she wanted to answer the question that had been put to her. Thankfully, we were also drinking margaritas, which is another first for me. (Hell, so far I don’t think I’ve had any repeats in alcoholic beverages). A really good, interesting taste, as opposed to the “fun” taste of the Woodchuck Cider. After the equivalent (due to refills) of 3 or 4 of those, I got a ride home. This was probably a good thing, because by the time we pulled up in front of my place, I had to stop and consider wether I would be able to walk up to my apartment without leaning on the walls. First time I’ve definitely felt the effects of alcohol. Though I still wasn’t plastered. Mentally I was okay. Mostly concentrated on keeping my head enough to walk. Had no trouble with my keys, and my typing actually drastically improved. So just the large motor skills. And there was no hangover to speak of, in the morning. (Though I’d been drinking water throughout, and had more just before going to sleep.)
I wanna be a lush when I grow up.
I swear my mother will think I’m well on my way, whenever she gets around to reading this. But I have no desire to drink, ever, really. It’s all been mostly academic interest so far, when I’m out at social events. I think my fiends are just overly social. I could almost go out every night of the week, if I pushed it.
Last night, though, was Refresh-DC. Nguyet gave a presentation on designing websites. (She did a great job, too, and didn’t vomit even once!).
Afterwards we gathered at Chadwicks for the usual social hour (or two, or three…). Met one guy who basically does the same type and style of work as me. Finally exchanged greetings with Kirsten, who I’ve only been in the same room with a couple hundred times. She always struck me as one of those people who is very much not interested in meeting new people, though. This of course should be kept in mind with my absolutely awful judgement of first impressions. Shouldn’t complain, of course, since she gave several of us a lift to the metro, through the rain.
Tried a Woodchuck Cider last night, which I’d been meaning to for a ‘while’. Outside of the martini, probably my favorite so far. Still had the beer taste to it. But it was sour and sweet at the same time. Very good. Probably the most dangerous thing for me, as I’d be tempted to drink too many of them.
Friend #1’s recommendation after hearing all this is to try Smirnoff Ice or Mike’s Hard Lemonade. Good to know.
And for anyone interested, I recently fixed the comments form, so you can once again comment. Would have done it sooner, but I didn’t know it was broken.
Went out with some friends over the weekend. Fuck… I actually pretty much spent the whole weekend with these friends. But we started the weekend on Friday night with dinner (yay Sushi!). My friends had relatives in town, and the goal for the night was a little after-dark site-seeing. Up through Dupont Circle, across to Adams Morgan, and down to U Street. Stopped at the Saloon for a few hours, which was packed. The Saloon is a low-tech bar. All beer. No mixed drinks. No hard stuff. And… well… no space. But at Doug’s suggestion, I ordered a Maibok beer. Would love to say something eloquent about it, but they all still taste like failed chemical experiments, to me. Did try a sip of someone else’ beer; something much darker, which had a much more subtle taste. About 2 a.m., we hurried over to DC9 before last call, and very bad dancing to bad English pop music. And someone handed me something that tasted very good, which always makes me paranoid. They don’t tell me ’til the end of the night that it was just a Malibu Sprite. LOTS of Sprite, very little rum. By about quarter to 3, I left to catch the last train home. The party apparently went back to Adams Morgan for the obligatory 3 a.m. Big Slice.
The next day was a party/gathering, to celebrate the arrival of the previously mentioned relatives. Plenty of people I knew, though in general a different group of people than normally show up to these parties. Probably the most surprising-but-happy person to see was Sarah, who didn’t even dash out as quickly as she usually does. Convinced her to fix me a drink at some point. Had to laugh, when after letting me try hers as a test, she proceeded to hand me what obviously was a watered-down version or the same thing. (Vodka and Mountain Dew) Just SUGAR with a little bit of kick. Spent most of the night actually talking to the guests-of-honor. Gave up on the bus, and passed out on the couch about 3 a.m., (where, of course, I lay talking with someone for at least another hour).
Took off in the morning, before most of the people woke up. Needed to shower and offload some photos. Passed out in the middle of those things, and was awoken by the same friends asking if I was still up for another photo excursion, this one to the National Arboretum. Short trip, due to a late start. But always a nice getaway. Followed up with dinner and … something I can’t remember. (Fucking senility). Anyway… again went home while I still could. Work calls, and my friends were sick of me.
As for the alcohol, the only other experiment was last night, at the final Cocksucker Tuesday, where someone brought a wine called “Werewolf”. While I can’t say anything good about it, (it was another red, tastes-like-feet thing), something I’ve been bitching about finally made it’s way through all the fat in my head. I keep saying these drinks smell like 7th-grade chemistry experiment. And while I was sipping the Werewolf, I remembered that most of those experiments involved some kind of alcohol, (albeit not the kind you normally drink).
Was digging through my photo archive last night to find a batch of images. Looking for some that either hadn’t been posted before, or variations on ones that got posted. I came across this one of Shannon from the 2006 photo shoot.
I recently read some articles on nikola tamindzic and his photography. It caught my attention when he started talking about working with models. He said you interact with these people. You ask them to do things, and keep watching. You ‘feel around’ and find the edge of their comfort zone. And that’s where the good photographs are. But that you had a certain responsibility, too. Because if you put your model in such a vulnerable position, you owe it to them to take the picture, and give them back something worth their risk.
I’ve never been excited about staged photo shoots. I mean, I’ve done a few. Even have some planned. But they don’t usually hold the thrill for me of event photography. Capturing the moment. But using the process nikola describes almost makes the staged shoot into an event.
And while it wasn’t intentional at the time — because I was largely clueless and still am — this photo comes pretty close to that.
The picture’s a couple weeks old, but I still love it. It was a sort-of-miracle capture. I’m walking down the street, in the cold, while my friends are goofing around and walking at the same time. It’s dark, I don’t have a flash. Even shooting wide open on a 2.8 lens, all my shots were blurry. And then there was this one.
We’d gone out to a club (Spellbound) and gotten kicked out at about 2:30 in the morning, as usual. We were walking down the street to a crepe place that stays open ridiculous hours just for such stupid people. And Nguyet wanted a piggy-back ride.
This was a pretty good weekend. I really didn’t get enough work done, but I did get to relax. After the stress of last week, and the likely stress of this coming week…
After spending some time with Vail, Jessi, and the Boy down on the Mall, we all headed out to Sarah’s “Living in Sin” party. I love having friends that I can spend 9 hours crowded into a small space with, without wanting to commit various homicidal acts.
It’s a shame I didn’t have time to grab my flash. I’m happy overall with my photos… but…
I went ice skating last night, for Sarah’s birthday. Which was fun, itself. I haven’t really skated much since grade school. And I got my balance fairly quickly. Never once did I fall on my face. But that’s mostly because I stopped myself by smashing into the wall, shoulder first. It must have been a minor spectacle, because everyone looked at me like I was crazy. I suppose the fact that it shattered the front of my skate didn’t help much. I’m still a bit sore today, but mostly when I stretch or sneeze. No great pulsating bruises or anything fun like that.
Bad this week: My power adapter for my laptop choosing to die for no particular reason. It worked just well enough to keep the computer running, but not to charge the battery. But…
Good this week: Apple replaced the adapter under warranty in less than 24 hours.
Also good this week: Dave and Shannon helping me to get a new web server up and running. I’m hoping to put all my clients who ask for help finding a server on there. Not only does it give me a bit more control and a LOT more options, but I could concievably make a little money off it. Not much, but every little bit adds up.
And recent “meh”: I picked up a free external camera flash from the freecycle mailing list. a REALLY nice flash. Tilt, swivel, programmable, fill flash, etc. About 23 years newer than my current flash. And it powered up just fine. But… despite being only a couple years old, it was never built to handle digital cameras. So while it would focus and program itself just fine, it refuses to fire.
For now I’m holding onto it. First, I don’t know anyone who shoots film anymore that doesn’t already have better equipment. And since it can be slaved, it can still act as a secondary flash. Plus, one of my goals is to get a Canon AE-1 to play with. Ought to work fine with that.
Another one of my favorite photos. This time, it’s Shannon, as taken at the halloween party thrown by Jeff, last year. I love the look on her face, and the hair being pulled up by the static electricity. I love the ominous balloon looming overhead, and the skeleton peeking over one shoulder. This night was my first real test of my external camera flash, and the lighting came out great, here. There’s detail and texture I never would have captured with just a fast lens. And I love it because it’s such a wonderful picture of a friend. Shannon so often goes blah in front of a camera, that I love it when she’s playing it up here.
I think I love that photo. Instant classic.
Yesterday was Nguyet’s birthday party. Which means, you know, lots of people in one place, to annoy with my camera. Oh, I tried to behave. Really I did. I was probably there for 2 hours before I ever pulled out my camera. But when someone else stuck the frog on their head, I really had no choice. You can’t blame me, man. The whole set of public photos can be found on my flickr account.
And it was actually a great night overall. I got to see many friends, even if not for as long as I might wish, for most of them. Was able to talk to Dave about some of my hosting questions. (i’m trying to find some industrial strength hosting for a couple clients.) And that eventually evolved into talking about databases and work, and even assholes. And Nguyet and Doug had their usual ridiculous amounts of very good food. But by the time I got home aorund 3, and managed to process most of my photos, I was passing out hard. I literally passed out just as I finished posting my Daily Photo.
Daily Photo: There’s a common practice on flickr, usually referred to as 365, where people generally take a new picture of themselves every day and share it. They’re usually pretty posed. (And they’re usually pretty women). A friend suggested a similar project, albeit less structured. The original, basic idea is that you take and post a new photo each day of anything. But even that’s mostly a guideline. Certianly very few of the people are posting every day. And of those that do, I can only tell a few who are actually taking new photos every day, as opposed to once a week or dipping into their archives. You know… whatever you want to do. But I’m sticking to the original concept, because it’s the only thing that challenges me. Collecting a bunch of shots once week is nothing special. And pulling from my archives would make it just an exercise in ego.
Anyway… happy birthday Nguyet:
I have always liked wandering around in cities at ridiculous hours. Everything takes on a surreal quality. I used to work a semi-third shift at a newspaper, and would come home at 3, 4, or 5 in the morning, in a small town. And everything was quiet. It was when I first notice that night time tends to have no weather. Especially no wind. It’s a Twilight Zone episode, where you’re wandering around an abandoned city and nothings moving. My favorite memory of that job and those people happened when two of my coworkers, driving home from the same job, pulled over and started a snoball fight, in a suprisingly bright street at 3am.
The last couple weeks, I’ve gone to a club about 6 or 7 blocks away. It’s very nice not having to think about how I will get home. If someone offers me a ride, great. But otherwise, it’s nothing more than a short walk. And I’ve been stopping at CVS on my way home, since I’m inevitably hungry by the time I get out of the club.This CVS just makes me cringe in daylight. It’s every depressing aspect of city life all rolled into one little cell. But at 3am, even it becomes fascinating. And everyone wandering the aisles looks briefly at you as you pass, probably wondering why you would be out at such a strange hour in a place like this, (forgtting of course that they’re also doing the same).
About 4 o’clock this morning, I went down to the lobby to get a soda from the machine. Someone was running the dryer in the on-floor laundry room. That’s life in the middle of the night. You know it’s out there, but it’s all locked up behind walls and doors.
I think I may be addicted to Root Beer. I really can’t stop thinking about it. The good stuff, that has some kick to it. Not the overly-caramelized crap.
No doubt it started at Fuddruckers on 18th, sitting there until 4 AM with a bottomless cup of soda and an ever cooling tray of fries.
How long before I’m selling blood to buy a Hires?
I think maybe I need something new in my bag.
I carry a bag. It’s really a purse by any other name. But it’s big and bulky and I take it everywhere. It’s the stuff I need on an average day while traveling through the greater Washington area. There’s an umbrella so I don’t have to check the weather report every time I want to run out. There’s a book, because you can be sure no matter where you’re going and how you’re getting there, you will have to wait, at some point. There’s my camera. Originally I said that this city was so crazy that you needed to always keep the camera with you, on the off-chance that something interesting suddenly took place in front of you. But now, I’d say it’s just because I’m a photography fanatic. My iPod is usually in there somewhere, too. And I like the bag, because it’s big enough and generic enough to hold all this and more. Most photo bags or courier bags are too specialized to hold an umbrella, or the book.
But I want some kind of vacuum pack of supplies for a night out. The odds seem to be pretty even that any time I go to a planned ‘event’ with my friends, I won’t come home ’til the next day. But I hate wandering around greasy and feeling grungy. So I just want to vacuum-pack a t-shirt, boxers, and a comb, maybe. Enough so I can walk into someone’s bathroom in the morning and come out feeling like I won’t scare yuppie families in the park.
Just… you know… something the size of those little travel umbrellas or smaller. Or is part of the fun of going out, in coming home completely burned out and in need of showering?
The birthday picnic was wonderful. They weather was perfect all day, the location was a great retreat from the city, and everything went off without a hitch. It was a fairly small group, but I think everyone had fun.
Got a call this afternoon from Drew, saying he had overslept and was going to be a little late to the picnic. Indeed.
After the rapping park police kicked us out of the Arboretum, a couple of us headed over to Dupont Circle to watch the Pride Parade.
I always enjoy the parade. It’s one of the only major events in the city based on something positive and cheerful, rather than disagreement and dispute. And the event gets bigger every year. It’s overwhelming, with so many people, and streamers, and colors, and outfits…
After watching the men with the leafblowers follow up the parade, and sitting through a free fight and show at the fountain in the circle, Kier went off to shake his groove thing, and Stephanie and I went to Fuddruckers for the next 6 hours.
Can I just say… drunk people are fun! But… I don’t know which club we were hearing from, but OH MAH GAWD, did the music suck. I mean… it was all fun music from when I was growing up. But I so don’t go to a club to hear 1980s and 90s top 40.
Stephanie was quite disappointed that I wouldn’t approach this amazon of a woman who came into Fuddruckers. But when we, and everyone else in the place, realized that she and her friend were in fact WNBA players, they never really got any privacy anyway. And by that time, I couldn’t have seriously approached her and pretended I didn’t know who she was, regardless of whether I initially cared. *shrug*
Very long day. Lots of fun. Lots of friends.
(Note: After checking out the Mystics’ website, it looks like the WNBA players were maybe Stacey Lovelace-Tolbert and Coco Miller.)
I love that picture of Shannon, up above. There were several good one’s from yesterday’s birthday party. But that one… as soon as I saw it pop up on my camera’s screen, I was blown away. Shannon does tend to take great pictures when she’s not scrowling at the camera, or tackling someone.
Indri sent me this picture the other day. Not bad at first look. But the more I looked, the more I liked about it. The lighting and the colors are at the same time subtle and bold. This pile of comfortable, bohemian fabrics across the bottom of the image–which is pure “Indri”–is balanced against the tall, empty vertical elements of the architecture, which is pure NYC.
Doesn’t hurt that Indri‘s cute, either.
Speaking of disturbingly-cute, little women, Nguyet participated in her first art show, this past weekend. She has 2 pieces hanging at the MoCA gallery in Georgetown, for the next month, I think. And her work was considerably better than most of the pieces in the show, by both quality and artistic-ness.
Nothing exciting or new. Just working this week on a couple websites for clients. Neither of which did I get to design from scratch, so there’s only so much you can do. Work still seems a little slow. I could be doing something about that, I suppose.
Yeah… that’s all for now.
Yup. I definitely should have written yesterday. Yesterday, everything was clear and ordered in my mind. Even after playing video games. But today? Today, while I have a million things to say, I can’t think clearly enough to do any of them justice. Today, you get the lobotomized me. But that’s still probably better than the tomorrow me, when I have pack for Texas and wrap up as much work as possible.
Tonight, I had my movie night. I finally had people over, to watch City of God, and subject them to my first attempt at Pineapple Upside Down Cake. My mother had shipped me all the ingredients for my birthday, but they’d slowly been collecting dust until I had people to share it with.
My actual birthday party was about a week ago, I think. The Friday following my birthday, since too many people had trouble with the actual date. Dinner last year was nice, but everyone had seemed to expect more. So I wanted something more fun — more interesting. We went to Buffalo Billiards, to play pool, shoot darts, eat greasy food, and watch big screen TVs. It’s the first time I’ve played with friends since college, and while I got my ass kicked numerous times, I don’t suck as much as I remember. Was a lot of fun, and very relaxing. I may have to go back on my own, when I need to get away. My friends took me out for sushi, followed by more pool. They still bitched that I didn’t give them enough to do, but really, they can bite my ass, since it was my birthday, and I should have been the one being entertained. Where were the strippers, damnit?
Yeah. That’s about it, for tonight. Maybe I’ll find some peace and clarity when I’m all packed tomorrow. But I wouldn’t bet on it. My “normal” method of packing involves not finishing until well into the early morning hours.
I dropped Indri off at the bus yesterday afternoon. No offense to anyone who’s ever visited me, but when I finally turned around to walk back to my place, I actually missed her. I don’t usually miss weekend visitors once they finally leave. Quite the opposite. No matter how great they may be, I’ve been living alone long enough, and rely enough on my weekends to unwind, that visitors throw off my rhythm.I don’t get to calm down. I don’t get time alone to get my head straight.
But I did miss Indri.
So yeah… it was a nice weekend. Just… fun. Nothing spectacular. But it was fun. And active. And … and I ate way too much, and didn’t get enough sleep, really. (As attested to by my oversleeping this morning.) We saw dead people at the Holocaust museum and living things at the Botanical Garden. We finished off the weekend at the zoo, with lots of cute furry things and disgusting slimy things. And Indri rambles on and on, never at a loss for words, except when I said something incredibly stupid, at which point she stares at me like a dog who can’t understand the crazy things humans do. But she’s smart and she’s cute, and she’s nowhere near as innocent and sweet as she would have you believe. (Just look at her obsession with her own butt.)
I’m loath to write too much about Indri. I don’t want to seem obsessive. But she didn’t seem happy that I edited her out of my last post. It really was just because I thought the writing was bad.
“He who asks a question is a fool for five minutes; he who does not ask a question remains a fool forever.”
It amounted to Indri being very inquisitive. It’s not a trait she’s proud of. Fear of being pushy, I suppose. But I love it. When she’s in that moment, she’s got the unashamed curiosity of a little child. (Again with the “cute” shit). It’s also nice to see someone unconcerned about admitting they don’t know something. Nothing makes for a better conversationalist than someone asking questions. And — personal preference — I like nothing more in another person than the ability to hold an interesting discussion.
There were other parts — other thoughts — that reinforced all this. But I haven’t figured out how to convey those thoughts well, yet. (I really wanna sleep).
I’m leaving for New York in about 2… 2 and a half hours. I’ll no doubt be very cranky for lack of sleep. But then again… I am going to New York. I probably won’t stand out.
I’ll miss Pixel. But other than that, this trip will give me good reason to ignore my clients. Stupid thought occurred to me today: There is really no time whatsoever where I can say “Yay! No more work. All free now to do something completely unproductive.”. Not that I don’t slack occasionally. Just that it’s is always a trade-off now. There’s no completely free time left in my life.
All in how you look at it, I guess.
Made another minor discovery about two days ago.I have been doing my second-best to try and avoid concentrated sugar — mainly in candy. There’s not a whole lot of noticeable effect, day to day, other than the occasional need to fight down a urge for chocolate. I still obtain candy, occasionally, such as the package of gourmet sweets given to me by a business contact recently. Couldn’t let it go to waste. But I was getting headaches every day. Occurred to me the only days I was getting headaches were those days I was eating a lot of chocolate or candy. Left the candy alone for the last 2 days. No headaches.
(Somewhere out there, Indri is going “duh!”)
(Somewhere out there, Sara is going “duh!”)
Can I just say that Sarah makes incredibly beautiful Christmas cards? I was so totally clueless that she had made them herself. I am so jealous. Always want to do that, but never do. And the few ideas I bat around in my head tend to be more sarcastic than beautiful. But then, Sarah is special.
And yesterday I found out Indri was seriously looking for a job, again. I thought it was a very… good thing. But I didn’t want to say that. Right now, I can’t remember exactly why. But yes… I was happy. She IM’d me today while I was working, to tell me that she got the job. And you know… even more happy now. Happy that she has something to do again. Happy that it sounds like it’s in her industry, again. (At least remotely). Happy that she has one more reason to stay here, where she seems so… um… happy. (As if I was gonna let her leave.)
Pixel is sleeping and being cute, as always. Well… usually. I did wake up the other morning to find her wandering around the apartment with a plastic shopping bag wrapped around her middle. She was perfectly fine… no potential injury unless she had found a way to gain 15 pounds overnight. But she had somehow gotten halfway through the hole for the handle, and couldn’t make it the rest of the way through. (I was too tired to even think about where she found the bag in the first place.) I de-tutu’d her and carried her back to bed, where she immediately curled up and fell asleep, without a care in the world.
I finished up the final details on my most recent painting and shipped it off to New York, this morning. I did forget to take a picture of the finished work, but oh well. Assuming UPS doesn’t succeed in destroying it, I’ll see it again in a little over a week. So now I REALLY want to work on the new painting. But my schedule is so full, I don’t know when that’s going to happen. I have enough work to keep me busy through the end of the year. Tomorrow night I have a holiday dinner. Saturday I have errands to run during the day, a party in the evening, and a club closing to attend at night. Sunday SHOULD be spent doing more work. But depending on my mood when I wake up that day, I may throw common sense to the wind and work on the new painting. Much more fun than my last one, which had way too much purpose behind it and not enough … release. I still owe someone some drawings too, though frankly they can wait, since I doubt they even remember.
Only one Christmas gift left to buy. And it’s really just a little something extra. So I won’t feel bad if I don’t manage to get it before going home. It involves a lot of potential walking on Saturday. But if they weather is still as nasty as it has been, I may just say ‘fuck it’. I’ll be in New York for the few days around Christmas. (Rob my place if you want, but I take all my valuables when I travel, and you would be left just to face the wrath of the attack cat). All bets are off as soon as the plane touches down in NY, but so far it seems like it may be a fairly calm holiday this year.
No idea what to do for New Year’s Eve yet. But it wouldn’t be the first time I just ignored it when nothing better came along.
yeah. That’s all, I guess. Just wanted to talk for a while. Thank you, and goodnight.
I spent last night in NYC, with Indri. Two words to describe Indri: disgustingly cute. You know… in every possible way. She’s got chipmunk cheeks, big anime eyes, and bouncy little outfits to match a bouncy little personality. She rambles on about anything and everything, and still comes across as fascinated with life and her surroundings. And those occasions when she doesn’t seem to know what to say, a look overtakes her face like she just stepped in pudding. In the nine or ten years I’ve known her, she’s never once let on that she’s anything more than sweet and polite, with a little bit of innocent mischievousness, which I take as reality, since it would be a shame to believe anything else. In her presence, I can’t bring myself to spout my more lurid innuendo that someone like Sara might experience. It would be like drawing a mustache on the Mona Lisa. I can’t even be as stubbornly negative as I occasionally still tend to be.
I swear… she’s a living pixie.
(There, Indri. NOW you can be embarrassed.)
Hopped the Washington Deluxe each way, which turned out much better than expected. I’d heard them referred to as the “pauper’s limos“. But I personally think it’s a pretty amazing service, for only $35 round trip. Top of the line busses, that make Grayhounds look like mobile shithouses. Clean and well kept up. Televisions with movies at the start of each ride. convenient pick-ups and drop-offs in the heart of each city. Couldn’t get all that if you drove your own self.
New York City always fascinates me. I came from New York to DC almost exactly 8 years ago. And although I’ve dug out my own niche, I’ve never fit perfectly here. And each time I visit New York, I’m reminded why. While I grew up in Geneva, somewhere up in central NY, there’s a certain ruggedness of personality, about any New Yorker, no matter where they call home. And no where does this essence seem more concentrated than New York City. It’s especially visible in the women, most of whom have the air of just having castrated a potential mugger with their umbrella, and are now on their way home to slip into pink, fuzzy slippers. Where women in DC confronted by lurid behavior may go the other way, cry, and sue, (not necessarily in that order), the same New York woman would probably grab the man by the balls and threaten to remove them manually if the assailant doesn’t grow a brain cell. You know, it’s there in the men too, but harder to notice since aggressiveness is more universally common in them. I remember a line from Crocodile Dundee that was supposed to be funny, about how New York City must be the friendliest place on earth, if 20 million people all wanted to live together. Joke or not, there’s a tiny bit of truth in there. I don’t know if you can call it friendliness. But the residents all seem to realize they’re packed in like rats, and naked hostility and apathy aren’t going to help anyone. New York City is really one of those places you can only experience first-hand.
Oh… yeah… happy birthday, Indri.
Juuuuuust when I thought I was out… They draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaag me back in. After finally having ripped all my cassette tapes to MP3, Autumn goes and gives me a new stack of tapes. These however, I may be able to finish in 1 or 2 nights.
Note to anyone coming to the District: Do not lean through a window and talk to cab drivers. Get in the fucking car. If it turns out you don’t have enough money, you can always get out again. But once you’re in the vehicle, they’re required by law to take you wherever you wish to go, within the Metro area. There is no need to question them from the curb as to wether they will take you somewhere. And if they do simply roll down the window and ask you where you wish to go, you’re better off telling them to piss off. Besides coming damn close to being illegal, it means they’re looking for a passenger going one specific route. The likelihood that you’re going that route is pretty bad. So shut up get in the fucking cab. I’ll thank you, and they 15 cars backed up behind the taxi will thank you.
We now return you to you’re regularly scheduled Sunday night stupor.
So I went out with friends to various places Friday night. (Pictures now available from your local gift shop or in the snapshots section of this very website.) When we started out at The Black Cat, I was depressed to find out that Rainer Maria will be playing there this coming Friday. Depressed, because I will be in East Bumpafuck at the time, watching the utility truck bucket rides. But if you’re luckier than me, go see them. The few songs I have of theirs are great. Sort of a female-fronted, intelligent, hard rock band.
You know… as Kier would say, any night not spent in front of the TV alone is a good night. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I won’t wish to cause serious bodily injury to one of my friends before the night is through. It would be all fine and well, but for … well… a complete lack of knowing what we were doing. I’m all for spontaneity. But to me, that’s the ability to make quick decisions with little or no supporting facts or information. What we had was a complete lack of decision making. We had 45-minute committee discussions followed inevitably by the least successful of all possible outcomes. The cutest moment of the night did come, though, from Autumn’s boyfriend, (a seemingly nice guy), somehow deciding he had enough testosterone–despite his metallic, zebra-pattern, club shirt–to order 7 people–3 of whom are over 6 ft. tall–into a sports car, so we could go to Adams Morgan. (A place you really must experience at 3 in the morning on a Saturday to appreciate sobriety and good footware).
It’s been a while since I got home at 4 AM.
Did I mention the call-girls have been evicted? Right. The day after they had one man in their bed, another waiting in the hallway, another downstairs trying to remember their apartment number, and one more show up just in time to see them all locked out of the apartment when she forgot her keys. This is the point where we find out her pimp had the doorlock changed without telling the rental office. After a brief interlude with the last contestant on The Price is Always Right in the laundry room, everyone was seen leaving the scene in a yellow taxi cab.
And I bet they didn’t ask the driver if he was going their way.
Boobies! All around me, tonight.
Went out to the club again. No bikinis this week, but do you really need them when you have women in mesh tops dancing under spot lights? Between the jiggling boobs and the thumping base line, I think my brain is mush.
Not so bad as to not enjoy the walk home though. Hookers! Saturday night at 3 am, and the prostitutes are in full bloom. The K Street side-road, which is normally cordoned off on Saturday nights to avoid just this, was wide open and packed with vehicles. Must have been 15 cars there, waiting to pick up women. The cops had apparently chased them down a few blocks, from around my apartment, where they’d been dwelling lately.
The way they dress… it’s so outrageously… hooker-ish. Clothes that Madonna would have found trashy. Wobbling on heels that could be used to help change tires. I know some of them are also probably wobbling because they’re men, and don’t have the practice that their female counterparts do. I passed one such ambiguous lady tonight. She easily stood seven feet tall. About 5 inches of that was heels. Wearing a skin-tight white dress in the shape of a sideways V. Some kind of big hair. I really try not to get too many details… I don’t really want to risk getting into a conversation with them.
I don’t know how they do it. My feet are killing me and I was wearing comfortable sandals all day. Walked the full route through the National Arboretum. To misquote Hamlet (again)… “Trees… Trees… Trees!”. Beautiful place to get away from it all. I’ll give it that. Not quite the exotic beauty of the Botanical Gardens, but a much nicer ‘space’. If you’re gonna exercise anyway, I can think of worse places than a free national park.
Post arboretum, we made the … interesting … choice to go see a movie at Union Station. I’d been there before, and knew what to expect. But the experience seemed to leave Keir somewhere between bewildered and pissed-off. This theatre is probably the most ghetto in DC. I’m not being insulting to anyone in particular… there’s just no better way to describe it. Not only do people talk to to the screen, but they make lewd suggestions to the characters. Behind us, people were talking on the phone. In front of us, making out. Someone at the front of the theatre was trying to tape the movie with a cell phone which insisted on beeping every 30 seconds. About halfway through the film, a fight broke out and carried itself out into the hall. When half the theatre followed them out, only about two-thirds of those people came back. And most of them were booted out in the next few minutes. Can’t tell ya much about the movie. I got the plot well enough, but under those kinds of conditions, you can’t really get a feel for it, or get the mood of the piece. Or even how well the actors were doing. *shrug* not a movie I was desperate to see anyway.
I just like saying that. It’s fun.
I ran into the prostitute in the laundry room today, talking on her phone. Someone mentioned that her and her roommate do laundry every day. That had never really occurred to me, but it makes sense. Especially this time of year, with the sweat and the juices, and the whatnot.
In addition to some johnny cash, marilyn manson, and patsy cline, I picked up Miranda Lambert‘s album yesterday, on the iTunes music store. (Gift certificates are our friends). My uncle had bought the CD–which is a pretty strong recommendation in its own right, as previously, the last album he’d bought was only available on vinyl and 8-track–and played it repeatedly while I was down there. She’s pretty good. Country, but not to the point of parody. She has a little bit of folk singer in her voice. And always a good sign: not all of her songs are about love. Looking over her website, it’s some pretty sickeningly blatant marketing by a record label. That journal sounds like it was written by an ad exec trying to sound like a 13 year old girl, not a 22 year old professional musician. But so long as the marketing doesn’t affect the music… we’re good.
Okay… political question: Do you ever wonder how a US President who lied multiple times to invade 3 countries resulting in over a hundred thousand deaths, can keep a straight face when acting outraged that the Iranian President may have been involved in taking hostages 25 years ago?
Food for argument.
I maybe shoulda gone out tonight. Kier tried to drag me out to Dollhouse, at the Black Cat. At the very least, I would have like a chance to see Kelowna, (smart, interesting, attractive). But after 2 seperate cover charges, the fact I almost never dance, and that it’s being held in the dungeon known as Backstage, I decided to stay home. I think God is on my side though. Ju7st as Kier stepped out of the subway, he got nailed by the biggest rainfall we’ve had in weeks. Told him that a storm which comes on so fast will dissipate just as fast. He didn’t believe me, and made a run for it. Within 5 minutes, it had pretty much stopped raining.
I was so very tempted to go buy an Airport Express today. So often when I’m working with my laptop on the couch, I want to listen to some music that I have on my machine, but I either don’t have it on disk or don’t feel like burning one. The Express would let me wirelessly stream the music to my stereo. Not to mention print wirelessly. But after spending 8 bucks at Radio Shack for a couple of AV splitters, I now have what I need to plug in my laptop from anywhere in the apartment. Compared to the $120 Express… not a bad compromise. Not to worried about the printing. If I’m printing, I’m gonna have to get off my ass soon anyway to mail, fax, or assemble something. Oh… the store? Crap. No less than 4 employees sitting around on top of the boxes talking, waiting 10 minutes before asking me if I needed assistance. (I couldn’t have cared one way or the other… but, you know… common courtesy…)
Today? Massive laundry day. Tomorrow? Massive kitty litter day. My life is so glamorous.
I literally spent the entire day — minus potty breaks and a 20 minute bout of sunbathing on the roof — entering information into a website. Not designing. Not coding the site. Not debugging. Not optimizing. Just entering data. I inputted about 350 articles, after stripping them from another, older iteration of the site, and about 100 photos. I still have probably 50 to 75 articles to go. Then the site will have to be debugged. I already don’t know why the “see other stuff like this” box isn’t working. And the calendar is completely batshit.
And I want to have it ready to show the client Monday.
This is one of the reasons I didn’t go to the Rave tonight.It would run till morning, with the inevitable stop for breakfast. And I probably couldn’t get back to my place to sleep ’til noon. I would lose almost a whole day, which I don’t think I have. One of my friends reasoned something to the effect that ‘sometimes you have to suck it up and do the bad stuff instead of having fun’. Which is really kind of crap. The actual performing of the work itself is kind of neutral, enjoyment-wise. The client works for a cause I find very important. And it doesn’t hurt I’ll be making some fairly serious money… mostly due to the work I perform this weekend.
Meanwhile, come Tuesday morning, I can go throw organic debris from the Attack Cat at passing politicians in Lafayette Park if I want to. This is the thing about being your own boss. You really get to do whatever the fuck you feel like. And some of it you get paid for. So I don’t gauge this night of work as “bad”, but simply as a night of work. Tomorrow may be a night of wild sex with a supermodel. Or more work. But I love my work. And I love supermodels. So … you know… whichever.
Said friend has been trashing my career of choice and business in particular since I’ve known ’em. So I don’t get too worked up about such things they say, anyway.
(I really have a hard time using the term “career”. It seems kind of dirty, like “republican” or “Californian”. While I never forget that I may eventually go back to working for someone else, in the meantime, all things 9-5 “for the man” leave a nasty copper tang in my throat.)
The thought of a whole night of Techno kind of scared me anyway. I enjoy some seriously fucked up music… but I still have a hard time calling anyone who can’t get up and perform on a stage in a small club, a “musician”. And I’d certainly be hard pressed to pay the $45 cover charge. For $5, I could have gone to Chiaroscuro and listened to Industrial music until 3 AM, (the drunk, redneck cousin of Techno).
My friends ideas of what it is to get out and have fun doing ‘crazy’ things, lately, kind of disturb me too. Anything that requires you to deal with Ticketmaster is not “wild and crazy”. Things that you plan 3 weeks ahead of time aren’t either. Road trip? Great! To a haven of old, conservative, white people surrounded by family restaurants and tourist gift shops? Um… no.
I’m not asking my friends to be completely insane all the time. I’d have to… you know… beat them about the head or something. But I swear one of them’s gonna be inviting me to a Barry Manilow concert soon. Then I would have to strangle them with their pillow. And I’m not sure I’m strong enough to even lift the water cooler, much less toss it through a window. Even if I did, the resulting hernia would make it hard to run.
I’m not sure any of my friends have a strong grip on reality. Do I attract people with identity crisis? (We’re still a tiny bit young for mid-life crisis).Oh of course they’re good people, or I wouldn’t call them friend; a word that means too much to me. But I’ve got people here who can’t face their professional life; people who can’t face their interpersonal life, people who can’t face their intrapersonal life. (And if they’re out there reading this, planning my slow castration with a rusty spoon… remember… you’ve all told me exactly the same things about yourselves. I’m not exactly Yuri Geller here, delving into the unknown). But just… when do we finally break down, and be honest with ourselves. When do we say “This is stupid. I won’t do this anymore”.
Yeah… I’m not not a shining example for everyone to follow. I’ve always been a bit more grounded… but I don’t think that’s necessarily a good thing. If friends and family knew how far back and to what extent I do and say things because I know ahead of time that “this is the appropriate thing to say to elicit X reaction…”, they’d probably look at me like one of those robots in the movies who’ve become too human. (We’re talking pre-teen, here). More often than not, when I’m being difficult or a jerk, it’s because I’m simply tired of knowing what I should say or do, to make whoever happy.
And only a year or so back, did I notice that the cycles of clarity and depression that started towards the end of college and through my first few ‘reality’ years had vanished. No idea where they went. Seen as how it occurred around the same time I gave up being terminally negative (blame Sara… I know I was much cuter before), I’m sure they’re somehow related. Good riddance, though.
Not that the events of the last year haven’t brought their own unique facets to my life. But that’s a long discussion for another time.
So yeah… about the concert. Okay: 1) Crap music. 2) Expensive 3) No spontaneity 4) Too long. The only thing really making me want to go was to take pictures of people being crazy. But it doesn’t come anywhere near balancing out the other crap.
But I gotta hit the Market in the morning, anyway. Still have to find a present for my father.
My friends all suck. Some of them do it very well. I finish up weeks of work on a tedious, mind-numbing project. Every other day, someone was asking me to go do something, or help them with this, or do that for them. But now that I’m free of that yoke, and ready to party and let off some steam, they all bugger off to god-knows-where. I even had an honest-to-God party on my schedule for Sunday night, and that got cancelled. So my party mood is all revved up, but God I hate going out alone.
So yes, I broke down and bought the new camera. Went with the Digital Rebel, because I’ve never been good with that peer pressure thing, or turning down pretty things that want me. And oh my God, it’s amazing. Reminds me what I’ve missed since I stopped using my Minolta so much. The optics on an SLR just blow away anything on a fixed-focus camera.
Okay… it hit me the other night when I was running to FedEx… the Presidential Inauguration here in DC is like the prom. A great big show with no real meaning, attended by a bunch of people who normally wouldn’t spit on each-other. The sheer number of limos that flood downtown cause their own little localized ozone hole. All the cool kids are here. Haven’t seen so many out-of-town visitors since … since nothing. Not even the Cherry Blossoms bring in this many people.
We went out to celebrate Autumn’s birthday a couple weeks ago. It must have been a Saturday, because Autumn and I spent the day doing the tourist thing again. We met up with everyone, though, for dinner at Tuscana West. I knew we’d be under-dressed, just by having walked past that place frequently, when I used to work on 15th Street. But when I walked in there, it was the whole prom thing again. All I could say to my friends was “This must be where yuppies go to die!”.
We went up to the Russia House afterwards. Had never been to that place, and only heard intimidating things about it. Which really, upon reflection… is all crap. One of the girls we were with had a cousin, sister, or roommates-cousin who once dated the owner or bathroom attendant, and got us past the doorman. But unless you go to the dining room, which we didn’t, you’re simply crowded ass-to-ass in this narrow, furniture-packed, red-velveted bar which would easily fit in my apartment. (A feat some restaurant’s bathrooms can’t manage.) There were many cute girls, and I even talked to one or two. Thankfully Kier fell for the girl who interested me most, so that he became the one heartbroken when we found out she was married.
Probably left there around two or two-thirty, and hopped on the subway before it closed. As usual, I was headed in the opposite direction from everyone else, and ended up waiting alone on the platform. It wasn’t such a bad wait though, because I had the chance to fall in love. This girlslashwoman, more drunk than awake, became annoyed with her friends and came over to talk to me. A beautiful dusky redhead with a grin that inspired feelings in its recipient. And half-cocked, we still had an amazingly intelligent conversation for about 10 minutes, as her friends–all male and full of hateful testosterone for me–looked on. A smart, beautiful, interesting, world-traveler wanders over and talks to you… how do you not fall in love?
Yet again, I fall in love by stepping out the front door.
You know… as a creativity and activity booster, I’m seriously considering setting some standards for myself. Ie… I must take at least one photo a day. I must write something each day. I thought about saying I had to paint or draw something each day… but that’s a more serious time commitment. What else could I do?…
I have to get up in the morning and go take pictures of the Ronald Reagan building while the sun is facing the correct side. I convinced my client to use a photo of the building, but don’t know of any cheap stock photo sources for the building. Sounds like a job for… dum da da dum… the Digital Rebel!
God I need to get out more often.
Three weeks and counting to Visqueen.
I realized after posting that last entry that I hadn’t said anything about New Year’s Eve. Not that I traversed the timezones and followed it around the world or anything, but still…
Went to a party hosted by A, Kier and Aaron. Spent much of the night torturing Kier’s little sister, as mentioned previously. She was being way too quiet in the corner at the start of the party, and I’ve never been one to let someone suffer alone. If they’re gonna suffer, it will be because they’re listening to me.
Several threats were made on my life and general well-being regarding the frequent use of my camera. I think I’m lucky I didn’t wake up to find it inserted somewhere uncomfortable. But as usual, post-party, many people were much happier that I’d taken pictures, if nothing else than for blackmail.
I met other women, and the occasional man, as well, that night. Probably couldn’t tell you any new names, because I’m bad like that. I either tend to come home with someone, or come home with no one. Not much in between. Only once have I ever left a party with something so simple as a phone number. (This could all go well towards explaining the tragic comedy that is my love-life).
Fun was had by all, except for the piñata, which was eventually decapitated by a sword. Only my friends would give economy-sized cutlery to drunk people, blind-fold them, and ask them to keep swinging until something breaks.
I really want a new camera. My Mavica does okay. But nothing improved my 35mm photography as much as having a good quality SLR camera. And I wouldn’t mind getting away from mini-CDs that I currently use as film. They’re really cool looking, but they’re slow, unreliable, and easy to damage. When the camera was new, the amount of files you could fit on them seemed amazing. But now you can easily find 1 gig Compact Flash cards, which outstrip it by 7 or 8 times the capacity, and run a lot faster. They’ve been dropping in price like stones lately. And I gotta believe any camera that doesn’t use a CD-burner to store it’s files would have better battery life than mine.
Blah blah blah.
Lady downstairs was showing off pictures from her trip to South Africa the other day. Made me a little jealous. I need to travel again, and see newthings. It was a little poke in the side to remind me to seize the day, and not create grand plans that never blossom. Starting my own company is a pretty good daily reminder. But a little nudge now and then doesn’t hurt.
I should be too old for this. But I don’t care. I’m having fun, despite myself.
By 10:30 tonight, I was ready to go to bed. But that’s when Kier called to let me know they were headed for the Black Cat. Aaron was celebrating his birthday with a crawl down 14th Street, finishing the fun at the club during their Brit-pop night.
It’s obviously going to be a good night when you walk in the room and see your friends surrounded by beautiful girls.
And sugar. Lots and lots of sugar tonight. Candy on the tables. Cheap sodas at the bar.
God help me… even though I’m a skinny white boy with no rhythm, I danced for the first time since college. Danced terribly, no doubt. Probably the person people nudge their friends to look at. But it was fun, and who cares what people say about you when you’re having fun.
Got my ass pinched twice, too. Never saw exactly who did it, but I’m fairly certain it was guys both times. You know… no one has pinched my ass since I was in Puerto Rico.
That’s this week.
Last Saturday, a really fucking-cold night… we were at Chiaroscuro; a one night Goth club down in Southeast. Didn’t dance, so it wasn’t as blood-pumping. But I was surrounded by hot chicks in fetish wear; so it had it’s benefits. Cool clothing shop on the premises, where nothing is over $20. But the best attraction was probably the really hot, freaky lesbians making out in the back. Straight out of really cheesy porn.
If only I didn’t reek of cigarettes when I got home. Not even cigarette smoke… just cigarettes. Tobacco… filter… paper.
My butt has a dent in it roughly the shape and size of a set of keys. This is what happens when you send about 2 days sitting on your ass, riding up and down the east coast.
And I now know Pennsylvania never receives any sun.
I went back to my high school reunion. Eleven years. We’re too lazy and the teachers are too bitter, to do it on a regular schedule.
Since shortly after I graduated, I’ve been saying I wanted to go back and rub it in the face of a lot of people — how well I did and how badly their life sucks. No… this is not an enlightened view. Fuck off, I’m not Ghandi. I was very much a geek back in school, and hated nearly every minute of it. A couple of good moments my senior year… but that’s about it.
But I left these people behind. I went to a good school. Made it through all 4 years. Lots of friends. Got a real degree. Moved to the big city. Got a job with a real company. You have no fucking idea what a rush it was when I got my first set of business cards. All those dickheads back in Geneva could kiss my hairy pink ass the next time we met.
Yeah, I guess I did leave those people behind. Aside from one or two… I tried briefly in college to keep in touch with some of the people I cared about. It lasted a good two months. By then I was in a whole new world. You can hardly mourn the loss of people who only remind you of the worst time in your life, when you’re suddenly having the best.
So Liz planned a reunion. It’s been 7 years since that first set of business cards. Now I have to buy my own. And they really don’t mean that much to me anymore.
Yes, I’ll go, I’ll go. The town itself is nothing imposing to me. I go back 3 or 4 times a year. Never see anyone I know, though. Niff, who was the other person who had keychain-shaped dents in her butt… she was taking it differently. She had her own reasons for hating that town and every aspect of it. So the further north we got, the more tense she became. I could understand and sympathize with the trauma behind it… but it’s still kinda funny to watch.
Until we were driving past the American Legion, on the edge of town. Right then and there, I was ready to turn around and go back to DC and never think about these people again. These people, I realized, are something special. Suuuuuure. I’m a totally different person now, than I was back then. But these are the people that know the “back then”. Many of these people have been a part of my life as far back as my memory goes. They know what lurks beneath the fresh coat of paint on your life.
Niff thought I was joking, so we stayed in town.
I was kind of shocked the first night, how much night life Geneva now has. It’s tenuous at best, but it’s there. My main memory, that describes how Geneva once was, when I was younger, involves a cop. I was walking home, a block away, from The Lunchbox, when an officer on foot patrol told me it was getting late and I shouldn’t be in that neighborhood.
The cops are still there. And the ambulance. And the entire official establishment of downtown seems to be on edge. Praying this is a renewal for Geneva and not just a blip.
We went to four different bars, and saw a handful more people we knew, locals mostly. In a scene doomed to repeat itself many times that weekend, I was greeted by the bartender at Parkers’ with a big hug and a warm greeting, despite the fact I couldn’t tell you who it was. (I did eventually realize it was a girl I’ve known for probably 25 years.)
I’m trying to figure out how to say what I want. A lot of people, especially those who stayed local… they just… live very simple lives. Probably most of the class do. Some going the family route. Some not wanting to be adults yet. Some not going any route… just going along. I’m just finding it hard to talk about this, because I don’t want to sound condescending. While it’s shocking to see people who so intimidated you at one time, now living a life that would drive you insane with boredom… at the same time, it’s great. Just about everyone who showed up, no matter what they’re doing in life, seemed incredibly happy. Simplicity is God… I just also think it’s relative to each person’s life. Kira, who stays at home with her kids and sells stuff on eBay, seems to have the same peace of mind as Kate, who flies cargo planes for the Air Force, in Japan.
We won’t mention AJ, who is just an adrenaline freak, high on life.
A reunion is a reunion, and filled with the obligatory “What are you doing now” questions. Look at all the big hair and sad fashion choices in those pictures. I had more fun afterward, having dinner at Uncle Joe’s and bar-crawling again. People were more relaxed, and just talking, rather than trying to catch up on way too many years.
I don’t think I renewed any connections that will lead to anything. No life lessons learned. Not even just a hook-up with a long lost crush. But I had fun. And that’s the first time I’ve ever said that about anything to do with those people.
Sara: You owe me… I was overdressed.
I got presents.
My birthday was last week sometime. Okay… still no party for like… the 16th year in a row. But I got some good shit from people.
It started with a gift certificate to the iTunes Music Store from my father. More music is never enough… so, perfect gift.
My mother has been sitting on her gift for months. And I think my picking on her caused her to go out of her way to get it shipped on time. (I can tell you she paid too much for shipping). It’s this medicine cabinet-type thing made out of old coke crates. The panel in the front door is a tin coke sign. Pretty cool.
But the favorite thing was from Sara. She sent me a beautifully designed copy of Fahrenheit 451, signed by Ray Bradbury (the author). My favorite book. Beautifully designed… right down to the ragged page edge. Sorry. not gonna top that.
And what did I get from my sister? A nice card. uh-huh. No bubblegum or a candybar? No little something to say “I know I tortured you throughout puberty, but here’s a little something to ease my conscience.”?
Oh don’t look at me like that. It’s my birthday. All about people sucking up to me. No 2,000 year old babies getting in on the action this time.
7344185: the beach just drove by
7344185: the beach
7344185: it just drove by
7344185: there was a woman sunbathing on it
Keir: Ah…. I see.
7344185: big truck
7344185: with sunlamps
7344185: and clear plastic walls
7344185: filled with Sand…
7344185: a lifeguard chair…
7344185: and a woman sunbathing
Keir: That’s kinda strange.
Keir: Neat, but strange.
7344185: what kind of oil do you think she used?
Keir: Couldn’t even begin to imagine…
Keir: Well, I could. But….
7344185: bikini, man
7344185: it’s a nasty, dark, rainy, cold day
7344185: and the beach drove by
I bought my first Christmas Gift this weekend. Tiny little piece of shit. But Macy’s already has their ‘holidays’ display out.
Is it really a true, politically-correct, sanitized-for-your-protection ‘holiday display’, if it only contains Christmas Trees, Angels, Nutcrackers, and tinsel? Aren’t they required by law to put in a menorah and something with “Kwanza” written on it, (since no one really knows what Kwanza is about… they need a better marketing plan.).
As usual I went to Eastern Market this morning. After two and a half rows of grandmother’s attic and oriental carpets, I recognized a friend from work, and stopped to annoy them. We stopped to look at hideously overpriced ‘egyptian’ stools, which are “the cheapest in town”, and then bought ourselves a picnic in the Market. We sat on the sidewalk in front of an evicted real estate office and ate. There was a homeless man behind us, with a 5 gallon mayonnaise jar lined with dollar bills. He was a real showman, pulling in passer-bys and whistling classic rock songs or TV themes. He whistles better than anyone I know, and had an amazing ear for getting every note,
After spending way too much time offending the people selling tacky jewelry, my friend dropped me off at home. I didn’t want to be out for too long anyway. I forgot my camera.
I’m obsessive about having a camera with me. I tell people that you have to know that anything can happen at any time in this city. I have pictures of debris clouds from the Pentagon floating over the White House. I have a picture of Janet Reno, who is one of only two famous people I’ve seen in this city unexpectedly; the other one being Donald Rumesfeld. And he looked so old that taking his picture may have stolen his soul, if he has one.
It goes beyond that though. Some people think I’m good at photography. But I know the only real secret to getting good pictures. Take a lot of pictures. I think there’s 130 images in my snapshots. But I have backup CDs of at least 5,500 shots. But still… it’s nice having people think you’re good at something.
I can paint and draw better than you, but I won’t win any awards. And when I show them my portfolio from work, most people just grow a polite smile. (How do you show off the effort and knowledge that goes into making something look unplanned but perfect?)
I’m a natural with digital equipment, from the days I used to play with my mothers pre-LCD calculator. I felt great joy at making it say “hello”. (01134). But companies want degrees and not aptitude. While a job well done may be nice, a training certificate is something you can show the court when you get sued.
I used to be a great friend too. So many people used to come to me when they were feeling terrible, or needed a place away from reality. But then I moved here, and I don’t even know the names of my neighbors.
So I carry a camera and people think I’m good at something.
I don’t really care what those people think. When was the last time you came home and did something more than watch TV and read the jokes someone sent you via email. I’ve painted, drawn, read, taken courses, fixed computers by phone, have a few truly amazing friends, and … taken a few good pictures.
You gotta love Sara. Who else gets so annoyed at the characters in books she reads. This is why it’s dangerous to recommend new material to her.
My friend’s father just died.
It was a drawn out, slow decline. Whenever I talked with my friend, he told me the pain his father was in, mentally and physically.
I only met the man once, but from all I know, he was simply a good man.
There is no loss like losing your parents. These are the people who physically brought you into the world. When they are gone, you’re like a leaf separated from the tree.
The man is gone. But tonight, I think more than one mind will finally be at rest.
Just looking at the picture down there of Lindsey.
She really is beautiful. Easy to take a good picture with a subject like that. Just looking at her can leave me feeling weak.
When she started at work, I thought she was a pain in the ass. And she spent half the time pissed off at me.
But looking back, nobody is ever really like the first impression they make at work. The one problem I still have with her, (and I don’t think it is always a problem), is that she is almost always completely focused on herself and her own interests. It’s not selfishness and it’s not ego. She just always sees things in how they relate to her. When dealing with company wide issues at work, it can be … restrictive, but otherwise, nothing. She’s a salesperson after all.
Besides, her main ‘interest’ that she is always concerned about is her son, (who happens to be too cute for his own good, and will soon have more women that god himself, no doubt). She’ll do whatever it takes, for him. I don’t think there’s a thing in the world she loves more.
I think it’s very easy to underestimate her. She is as close to wild as women my age get without being floozies. But I don’t know anyone else so interested in learning. Even Sara is more like me… learning because we want to know how to do something or because learning is fun. But I’ve watched Lindsey squeeze every last bit of information out of a trade show presenter, to where the poor guy had to admit ignorance of anything further.
Fighting with her or flirting with her, you take your life into your own hands, either way.
I am surrounded by amazing women. And not one of them has the least bit of interest in me.
I was rather quiet last month.
I lay the blame at Stacey‘s feet, for the most part.
We got together for the first real time since my freshman year at RIT. Despite several years of us both being rather thick, and not talking anywhere near as much as we needed, she invited me to her graduation. (She is now Doctor Stacey.)
I couldn’t turn her down again, even if I wasn’t sure how things would be between us. While she told me to stay as long as I wanted, I kept my reservations limited. I neither wanted to overstay my welcome, nor be stuck in a torturous atmosphere.
I apparently keep forgetting how direct Stacey is. If she hadn’t wanted me there, or hadn’t wanted me to stay, I would very well have known.
But it isn’t all this friendship crap that really got to me. Our friendship is close to 12 years old now. That’s nearly half our lives.
But I had forgotten the way life goes.
I’ve sat here many times wondering how she can be so adamant about going back to Rose when she finishes her educational obligations. Even my time in Rochester made me pretty certian I would find no peace in my own small hometown any time soon.
There was some brick wall there for me, when I first arrived. It was my own wall, not Stacey’s.
I’ve gotten so used to fuckin’ ‘trying’. I can’t remember the last relationship here that didn’t require some effort. Life in this city is a series of confrontations.
None of that existed while I was in Syracuse. I had nothing to prove to Stacey, and would look foolish if I tried. The simple act of spending time together was new again, it had been so long since I last tried it.
Stacey is incredible. Incredibly beautiful. Incredibly smart. She has a personality that will not be overwhelmed, no matter how much punishment she subjects it to. And if she cares about you, you’ll never doubt it. Outside of myself, who was probably grandfathered in, her friends are much the same.
I left the weekend in Syracuse reminded of these things. Reminded why she was so special to me. Reminded of how peaceful life can be. I walked to work for a few days with a smile on my face, which probably scared the shit out of the locals. And for a while I felt bad about the excessive negative emotions this place can bring out in me.
Believe me… this is one of the people I mentioned before, who will kick you in the teeth, and then drive you to the hospital. Wouldn’t have it any other way.
well fuck me.
another ex of mine is getting married.
I give up. I’m just going to start a dating service… “If you want to meet Mr. Right, just go out with me, and he’ll come along shortly.”
I just put on the sweatshirt. There is always just one sweatshirt… one that fits just right, isn’t too new or too worn. One that works in summer or winter.
I pulled it over my head and straightened it out. I looked down at the left sleeeve, as it rode a few inches further down my arm than the right one. The sweatshirt was brandnew when Anita pulled on that sleeve. She yanked the end past my hand, twisted it up, and pulled me aorund by it.
I think about her when I pass the FBI Headquarters in the J. Edgar Hoover Building. She was getting her degree in Criminal Justice, and going on to the FBI.
By any definition, she was beautiful in every sense of the word.
I can’t believe I can’t just walk down to the Hoover Building to see her. Can’t you all see that it’s perfect, that’s obviously the way it was meant to be?
She’s out of reach now. Another airplane in another time… but the same result.
How can you not love that smile.
(Image stolen from the soub.)
(That smile must run in their family)
I could really learn to fuckin hate these helicopyers…er helicopters. (no, I havent been drinkin. And I don’t see the pink elephants dancing in my window.)
With spelling like this it makes me wonder how I ever managed to code HTML by hand. This is why Dreamweaver is my friend.
Sara is still bogarting my music. But dispite several direct recommendations, she still refuses to listen to Boss Hog. I’ve given up being scared by all we have in common. I just accept it, and use it to torture her.
After all, Stacey and I have next to nothing in common, but have continued to drive eachother nuts for almost 12 years now. I don’t know what the qualifications are to be my friend. Apparently it involves being a pain in the ass and not taking any shit, though. The kind of people that will kick your teeth in and then drive you to the hospital.
Psychotic little bunch, we are.
God, have ya realized how much TV has degenrated? You can get just as much entertainment by watching it with the sound muted as you do with the speaker on.
There’s something bad going on in the news media lately. I’ve been trying all night to put my finger on it. I’m too tired to examine it right now though.
There’s really something to be said for listening to the city. I come home and read on my couch facing the bay window. From that angle, I can’t see the street, but you hear everything. (Ask anyone who’s ever tried to talk to me on the phone then.) People get very stupid after work. Similar to leaving a bar, they shouldn’t be allowed to drive leaving the office. They should be crowded onto the subway with all the other assholes.
Tonight it rained. I didn’t actually see it, but I can hear the difference. Sounds echo a lot further down the street. Car tires sound like they’re frying on the asphalt. And the cricket starts chirping. He only comes out after the rain. I think I may be forced to impale him on a pretzel if he doesnt shut up soon.
There is a woman laying in a hospital somewhere in Pennsylvania. I’ve never met her and don’t even know her first name. But what I know of her family leads me to believe she is a wonderful person.
I don’t know if she is a live anymore. She wasn’t expected to last the morning.
May she be more comfortable once this is all sorted out. She deserves better.
I talked with Sara last night. She has this nasty habit of making me feel good.
If you get bored enough when you’re sitting on the subway, you’ll notice that as the train picks up real speed, the windows start to bow inwards. Between that and quick changes in elevation, your ears will pop depending on where and when you go.
so what do you do when its over? or at least, youre told its over, even if it doesnt feel that way to you?
what about all those things we were going to do?
what about all those things I wanted to do for her?
what about all those things she was doing for me?
ive never wanted anything else in the world this much. Id willingly lay down my life for it. Ive given here smile after smile, the most important things in her life. Ive in some small way managed to convince her of her own beauty. Intelligent converstaion. A laugh when she is in pain. And this isnt enough?
Why cant I hate her. Why cant i tell her it was all lies, and that she’s an ugly bitch? Besides the fact none of it would be true, I couldnt look in her eyes (whatever) and see the pain the lies would cause.
plan all night on going to a club. my friends ask me if im going with them. And we stop back at my place so my friend can pick up some stuff he had here. So I wait while he’s getting changed in the bathroom. And as soon as he’s ready they take off.
What the fuq do you do… invite yourself? after they apparently change their mind?
Have you ever met your other self?
That person who completes something within you. They tell you that they love you, and you dont even think to question it. You find yourself really trusting someone for the first time in your life. Your heart warms at a smile, and you wish a touch would never end.
work again today. found out i may be getting a much big tax refund… seems the IRS thought I had about 4600 bucks in child care taxes to pay. granted… the closest I come to having kids are the roaches in the bathroom at work.
and i rush home to work on this ridiculous site. this apartment is a mess. but the most annoying thing is i cant even really clean it up. I have no where to put anything. i am sans furniture.
i cant write tonight.