October, 2005

I am running on four hours of sleep. Seriously. Party in, like, 3 hours. You better be there.

First trip to a gay bar, evah. Went to a wedding with an open bar. Met Harper in real life. Didn’t sleep. Told a good friend I love her. Hope she doesn’t mind me telling everyone else.

Sunday we tried to move as little as possible. Today, I do not have that option. Go, brain, go. Write some code.

You know, that thing that makes you paint skies full of pinwheeling stars and write autobiographical novels in three weeks of benzedrine-fueled creative fury? I got a little coffee in me right now, you’ll have to excuse me.

I was browsing Flickr today and realized just how cyclical photography can be for me. It has that nice, self-perpetuating quality that makes me want to take more pictures every time I get some back from the developer. I suppose just about any art form can work that way, but I never really get a rush when I read back over my old poems and stories. I usually just think, “Gosh, this could be better.” Am I a better photographer than writer? I doubt it. But something clicks when I look at a picture that just makes me want to have more pictures. Gotta… catch ‘em… all!

No more comments on old posts. Not that anyone will be bothered by that. I just thought I would tell you. The Russian spammers are killing me. For now, I will only allow commenting on the current post and shut it off when I write a new one.

Today is the Governor’s Cup Race and Walk. This means a truck selling “coffee lattes frappes smoothies” is parked just below my window. Maybe I should take advantage of that. Also, there seems to be a cleaning staff downstairs running a vacuum cleaner at top volume. No going back to sleep for me.