Someone, please...
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
I miss the Tea Party, I probably have said that somewhere else before. I was called into work this afternoon, having only just returned home an hour ago. Long enough to change clothes and take some pictures, since I missed the 365 photograph of yesterday, being so tired, so blah, so Gish that I didn't bother with the tricks of light and lens.
if you could see this world with my eyes...
I remember getting excited for new albums coming out, but now that I'm older, I wonder. If there is anything to it. My older sister used to always tell me (usually at a Tea Party show) that is wasn't real. I could interpret that any way I like, but I took it for the music. Not real. We can listen, and love, and appreciate but in the end, can we feel it in our hands?
with a sweet wine....
Of course, she probably meant something else.
I think she's gone again...
In any event. I'm not really real. I'm only a ghost of who I used to be. Speaking of which, some weirdo on Flickr wants to worship my feet. I told him I demand money and time. I'm terrible, I shouldn't encourage them.

Track 12 - The Tea Party Triptych album...too lazy to look up liner notes, and you'd think I'd know this by heart. now strife won't let me go...

Labels: how not to be an idiot, insomnia, inspiration, late night, layers, Matthew Good, music, neurotic, photographs, photography, The Tea Party, writing

Have you ever seen a photo that just completely emulated what you felt like? It happens rarely for me, and usually it's a reaction from a nature shot (I like mountains, ok?). In any case, look at photo above, and you'll get a sense of how I'm feeling lately. I can't seem to put it into words, either....so I've been avoiding the journal where I have to articulate.

But now, I'm here. Again.

You know you're in trouble when the things you like do not bring you any joy. I'm wondering if I'm going head first into that hole again. I wonder if I care.

Left behind, forgotten, like an old pair of socks. I dreamed that I couldn't lock my door, and I knew there was something scary on the other side. Something that would hurt me. I don't have the cushion of mental illness to break my fall, I almost wish I did.

My landlord has called twice, leaving messages telling me that he has bought a new fridge for the apartment (about time too, since mine has bee broken for about 2 weeks) within the past day. I'm ignoring him for the moment, because I just don't care about a new fridge.

Dark woods approaching faster than I imagine and soon the time for decision will be upon me. Too bad for everyone else.

I don't know who took that particular picture but it can be found in Matthew Good's photo stream at Flickr.

echoes of myself {7/365)
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
Shot taken at the butterfly conservatory today, and used as one of my 365 photos. None of them will earn awards, I always just pick the ones that mean something to me.

Look at that photo, it's how I feel. I send out S.O.S's but they are never answered. My connections are faulty, only I can be to blame. Because there should always be a way to be there for me.

Speaking of which, another friend grating on my nerves, self rightousness that makes me skin raw when I try to open my mouth to defend myself, then I remember there is no defense.

And I'm so cranky because I can't figure out how to sync my iPod with the music I want, and not what it feels like uploading on a lark. We are at am impasse. But you know me, I'm not exactly a brainiac when it comes to figuring out new toys. But it pisses me off.

Ok, I'm going to go spread my bile somewhere else. I'm alone. alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone, alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,alone,

put me back together {6/365}
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Even though I am still in the middle of a very long week, it feels like it's almost over. Or maybe I'm just at the end of my tether. In any case, it hardly matters. Fuck, I keep forgeting to do things like cancel my doctor's appointment for tomorrow, and call the new job place with my references. Fill out my time sheets for the current job. Arg.

Buying power. That's the phrase that passed through my mind when I walked out of the fat people's store this afternoon with two bags full of clothing that I will wear for the new job and for other things. *ahem*. They had a sale on lingerie, and seriously I never have enough bras. I find one I like then wear it to death while I could be sitting on a huge pile of unworn lingerie. It's true. So, now I just make sure I absolutely LOVE the piece before buying it, instead of being so fucking happy that it's not beige or white and fits me, that I'll buy it even if I don't like the style.

But I have a couple of spiffy outfits for the first day (whenever that is). And I know that I'm heading back into that world, of 16 hour days, deadlines, things I can't bear to look at, decision making, etc. I'm heading back into the fray because I don't have to think about the 'real' stuff. I'll go back to work to take my mind off my life.

Anyway, I can feel that it's time for bed since I have to work tomorrow. And all weekend. So. Yeah. Gotta get some rest.
Night, folks.

Mrs. John Cusack
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

That there, is my new best friend. I fell in love at half off, plus a free dock/charging thingy. The only thing is that it decides what it's going to sync up with (musically, I mean). But that is probably due to lack of space if nothing else. When I set up my new toy on my laptop, it asked me to name it. The only thing that came to mind was....Mrs. John Cusack. So that's that. My iPod is called Mrs. John Cusack. Oh, the irony.

Buckley is attacking my leg. His teeth are freaking sharp.

And being a vegatarian is hard work. Constantly checking labels and having to walk around the meat and deli section in the grocery store is tiring. I almost bought tuna burgers today. Tuna burgers! The only kind of tuna I like comes out of a can and isn't heated in any manner. I don't know what I was thinking. Oh and I signed up for 2 twelve hour shifts this weekend. The clients will be sick of me before I know it. I was supposed to work first thing tomorrow morning, but someone called to switch so I said Yeth. (Thank Garp for that last bit).

I know I am probably one of the last 25 people on the planet to get an iPod, but if you've been reading me long enough, you'd know I have wanted one since 2003. *sigh* ah, the glory days. Ok, not really...glory, I mean. Those are just words that come off my fingers.

Anyway, that's the big news for today. I now own an iPod. No news from anyone regarding a job. I'm starting to feel like a pariah. But it doesn't really matter in the long run, right? We all knew it would be like this.

Last night was one of the 'I'm hanging off of a cliff" nights. Tears that didn't stop, phone calls to my friends, discussion about needs and wants. It was just bad all around, until I finally fell asleep at 4 a.m.

I have to work tomorrow but not until 3, so I can sleep in and get up, have oatmeal (I picked up some old fashioned kind today), clean the kitchen or something. Mmmm, drink cup after cup of strong coffee. Yes, tomorrow is looking to be a good day.

this is a weird entry, cowboys. Time for bed.

Love,

G.

where has my head gone? {2/365}
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

That's my submission for today for the new group I've joined at Flickr. My bad habit of leaving my keys in the door. It continues to this day. I only mention this because I think today or tomorrow is my ex boyfriend's birthday, and it's been awhile since...heh, I guess I've been listening to Matt Good too much lately.

I'm sitting here on my hard bed, drinking a cup of strong coffee and listening to The Stand in the background. Multi-task. I wish they made longer cigarettes. It's seldom I smoke a whole one, as they usually just burn out to nothing in the ashtray while I'm working or in my hand, while I'm driving.

I have lots to say today, but it's that kind of small talk that no one really pays any attention to. I'm one of those people that can blab about nothing, I just choose not to, because silence sounds so much better. Like silken strands of hair across your face, or spider webs in between your fingers. I'm so lyrical, today.

Second cup of strong coffee:
I'm going to watch The Departed shortly. I initially wanted to watch something on one of the other discs I borrowed from Emmanuel but for some reason, some stuff won't play on my laptop. I like people who give me movies.

Buckley is barking furiously at the front door, I'm in my bedroom typing on the computer. He could be telling me that someone is here, but that doesn't mean I'll get up to answer it. I rarely answer the door unless I know you're coming over. I hate unannounced visits like the way Georgia O'keefe hated flowers. If you're not a philistine, you'd know what I mean. And if you don't know what I mean, that's ok, too.

I need to take some new pictures...probably tonight. In my nightgown, pearls and stockings like some kind of glamorous hollywood icon from the 1940's. God, I was born in the wrong time. I was meant to live the life of a woman who fretted over the straightness of her stockings.

tiipii {1/365}
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
This is my first photo for the 365 group. The challenge is to take one photograph each day, for one year. It will be a challenge. But I'll try my best. This is a tiipii shell that stands on the land where I work, part time.

My sense of time is all messed up. I have to work tomorrow morning, and I spent most of today sleeping (for some reason I sleep better on the couch) and I should be sleeping early this evening so I can be fresh for the morning. So nutty, I tell you. This is what I get for telling someone I would pick up their shift for them. It doesn't bother me, I suppose. I need as much money as I can get since it appears that the phone is not ringing off the hook with job offers for me and the insurance will soon run out. In March, I believe. so I have little time to...get something going.

and I'm thinking of taking a job in Nunuvut. The money is amazing. And I could save enough for a big downpayment on a new car or a house or something. New camera...heh.

Anyway, I'm watching Snow Falling on Cedars. Cinematic genius. This movie and the pictures it shows me are so amazing, that it always enthralls me when I happen to catch it. So much snow, and so much beauty in even the harshest of environments. Cedar trees so tall that you can't even imagine how long it took to for them to get that high. For me, the story is somewhat secondary. Until I read the book. The book is amazing too, in it's own right.

Anyhow, I'm rambling. I am disappointed that I can't go grocery shopping with Bee and the Mini tomorrow morning, but as I said I picked up an extra shift in the hope of having enough money to pay the rent. *sigh* maybe this is all there is to the business of living.

Sleep time. I called Craig earlier but he's busy. I forgot what I wanted to tell him, anyhow. Maybe I ought to start writing lists again.
Good night, sweet things.
G.

doorways
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
So many doorways to choose, huh? I was thinking about this because of choices. Choice is a double edged sword, I think. I thought I would write a quick entry before I get ready to go to work. I'm working the overnight shift at the lodge tonight. My first 'real' shift and all I can think about is how I wish I had an iPod to listen to while doing chores in the big building on my own. So I don't hear any ghosts. *grin*

Yes, the place is haunted.

I'm watching 20/20, I used to watch all the time when I was a suburban wife all those years ago. And one of Aquafina's sources for water is the (gulp) Detroit river? Ick. Choice, people.
I was reading a little note from David Suzuki and how we need to drink tap water now. No more bottled water, too bad for the environment, and we need to start trusting our city's water sources. That is something I'll have to think about that, I think. Heh.

Anyway, I posted some new photos at Flickr, and I am about to join a group in which I must take a photo a day, for a whole year. I can't wait to get started. It will definitely motivate me.

But now it's 11 p.m. and I have to get dressed for work. So....I guess you can choose to read my older entries or go to another webpage, beauties.
Love,
G.

Hot time
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Definitely my idea of a hot time. Hot water, low light.

I liked my landlord before I moved in. But it seems like every time something breaks, it takes him forever to get back to me. And I'm not talking about a little crack in the wall that I'm complaining about either. First, I blew a fuse and I have no access to the lock box. And the fridge has decided to pack it in. A few days ago. I saved some stuff, but I kinda miss the fridge. Actually, I miss having ice.

Ice for my drinks.

So, I guess I miss the freezer, not the fridge.

My brother in law always asks me if I 'got a job' yet. I tell him sort of. I'm not worried, but for some reason I have been looking at job postings in Nunuvut. Can someone turn away an 80 thousand dollar job? I guess I'll find out.

I think I'll paint my eyes dark tonight, heavy egyptian eyeliner.

Buckley and Gish
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Dear lover,
It's snowing where I am. Not that fluffy romantic kind, but the kind that gathers in thin, mean layers on the ground. Crystal onion layers. The wind is harsh, too. When I walked into the store this evening, I had to bend my body against the force of it, and curled my hands around my collar, as if I were a person in a movie.

I am stuck listening to Ryan Adams. I told Craig to tell his bass player friend to tell Ryan that I want to marry him. Sounds complicated, but it's not. How can one not want to marry a man who writes songs like Please Do Not Let Me Go ? I mean, really. 43 seconds from the end of the song, is my favourite part. You'd know that, though, being my lover. You'd know that I love harsh weather even when I complain about it, because it's what reminds me of the comforts of home. And you.

I know it's been awhile since I've seen you last. The days in between are many. The sound of your voice is a balm on what ails me. I pretend I don't miss you, or need you, or want you...but in the end, it feels like the sum of all I am. Terrible, to let emotion rule the daily being of a person, yes? Can you read/hear what I'm saying?

What keeps you, I know I can't get past it. Passed. I just have to let the days slide by, and have faith that I'll see you again. Soon. Sooner than I had thought, but not soon enough to stop my missing of you.

Please don't go skating in Central park without me. Don't check into the Chelsea hotel without my half of our signature. When I get my shit together, I'll come. The last train before the end, the sleeper cars are all full, I couldn't get a spot. I'd say meet me at the station but I'm not sure when I'll arrive.

Just send me a Valentine in your heart, miss my face even when you have no idea. Our time will be here soon enough.
Love,
Gish.

Labels: Craig, Craig Bancroff, drama, how not to be an idiot, inspiration, love, music, neurotic, relationships, Ryan Adams

sometimes, I think my writing really has shit for brains. And I only say that because I am actually working on something important to me right now, but my head can't seem to select the correct tense to use, so I am moronically jumping back and forth between tenses.

I had no idea it was this difficult.
*growl*

p.s I have to stop wishing I had connections with people. I think I am really unconnectable. Know what I mean?

I wish I was tired.

Labels: late night, writing

*Fearless
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
This is the photo I contributed to the photo theme, a photo to match a song title. It's not what I wanted. But it was a spur of the moment kind of thing. Not matched even in my mind, with what I think of myself. Or how anyone else sees me.

Does anyone see me? Or do they all see me, and that's why there are hardly any people around me. Food for thought. If I think of food one more time, I will explode. Too many french fries. My fridge is broken. I tried to cook what wouldn't be wasted but I know I won't eat any of it. No cold drinks. No ice. That's what is on my mind.

That and things from yesterday. Many yesterdays. Think of me, when I listen to different songs. A day for sleeping. Sleeping on soft flannel sheets. Striped, like a man's bedding.

How would I know?

Can't someone appreciate In the Cut the way I do?

Labels: how not to be an idiot, layers, neurotic, relationships

mirror image
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

It occurs to me, as I sit down to write out an entry, or attempt to tweak the fiction I've managed to force out with pure brute strength, that I may remember other people's funny stories before I remember mine.

I say this because I distinctly remember a thing Matthew Good had commented on, about a hundred years ago, about cleaning his shower. With pictures. It made me laugh. And to this day, gives me a ghost of a smile, at the very least. Of course, this could very well be the neurotic part of me, right? Right.

Buckley had been barking all day. I mean as in barking, making noise, not barking, as in mad. He's been scurrying about like a mouse, skidding across the old hardwood floors as if skating. I thought for a minute maybe it was the full moon, but that was last week. And I only know this because I had attended a Full Moon ceremony that night. Freezing, wrapped in a blanket like a real indian (I am, honest), standing in front of a fire, and looking like I am praying hard for guidance. Really, I was thinking: it's fucking ridiculous to be out in this sub zero weather when we can very easily complete this part of the ceremony in the lodge where it's not exactly comfortably warm, but where the wind is not icing through me like knives of bitter cold.

Heh.

Anyway, I don't know what's wrong with Buckley. Maybe cabin fever. Maybe it's time to go to the park.

Ok, my neighbours. I live in a house, I have the front apartment and they have the back apartment. Their basement area is right below my bedroom. They have parties sometimes, not a big deal. But for some reason, the smell of pot really gets me going. And I don't mean in a good way, either. I mean, it drives me nuts. I don't care if they are smoking the amount of pot that would fit into a little red wagon, but do they have to do it inside? Where it's making my apartment smell like I have a serious love affair with weed?

So, now, I just listen to music late at night when they are having one of their parties, singing along to The Most Beautiful Girl in the World by Prince with headphones on. I don't care if it makes me look stupid. Because if I'm going to smell like a joint, then I will at least sound like I've smoked one, dammit.

ok, that is the rant for today. Good night, and good luck, my beauties.

p.s should I die horribly and unexpectedly, then I would like Square One by Tom Petty to be the song played at my funeral service. Just an FYI, I'm expecting to live at least until I've finished learning to play the guitar, and the piano.

p.p.s I shouldn't do this, but I will mention the man who is taking care of my little Ash doll. I hope he is still safe. That is all.

Labels: Buckley, drama, habits, headphones, home improvement, how not to be an idiot, Matthew Good, music, native ceremonies, neighbours, photographs, pot, Prince

my picture of my photograph
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.
I'm all alone now, I can do as I please.....I don't feel like doing much of anything...
Spent time with some of the kids in my program. They were making hand drums. I don't feel much for editing or sorting through photos or else I'd post one of the kids with the slippery hide and tendons stretching to make taut surfaces of the drums. Time through our fingers, unnoticed.

I think of the new sheets and I just want to curl up in them, but it's still too early for bed. Grocery shopping with my older sister tomorrow. It gives us a chance to catch up, and she gets to pick what I eat (sometimes). I know I'm supposed to be thinking about some arty photography for the theme at The Cooperation, but the ideas I thought I had don't seem very good. And my 'get up and go'...kinda got up an left.

And I'm hooked on this song. My favourite part is 43 seconds before the end of it. This book I'm reading is not doing much for my sense of mankind. It's called The Demon Lover by Robin Morgan. Discussing the roots of terrorism. I don't know if it's something I can fully subscribe to. Because after all, we're looking for solutions, and one of the parts of that is to lay blame with someone or something. This book lays the blame on men. Man, in general. I'll either be a man-hating, frothing at the mouth kind of feminist by the end of the book, or someone who has just read a bad book.

I dreamnt about money last night. Lots of it. I suppose it's because I am constantly worried about not having any or enough. And when sad songs come on the radio, my thoughts drift towards the Apostle. I wonder what he's doing now, what he's thinking. If he misses me. Then I have to look in another direction or I'll get lost in that train of thought.

My face is just a disguise. Another layer to me that no one has really figured out. How many layers are there...? Not sure. Even I don't have all the answers to myself, I can hardly expect someone else to. Silly.

Maybe I'll rent Purple Rain tonight. Such a nostalgic movie, not to mention that Prince is 5'5 feet of pure sex. MMmmmm.

Please Do Not Let Me Go - Ryan Adams

Labels: Apostle, drama, inspiration, layers, music, neurotic, pearls, photographs, relationships, Ryan Adams, song

we're all stocked up on crazy over here
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Tired, at last. Going to sleep soon. It will be a good one.

Tomorrow, only one errand and some cleaning. A look at my bank account and I shake my head. Where are the 2000 dollar paycheques I used to get twice a month.

I'll be taking a job that will bring that kind of money back. I'll squirrel it away, I don't have any need for things, it's all just...stuff. Access baggage.

Freaking flashlight...

p.s Anyone ever see The World According to Garp? It has the be THE worst novel to film adaptation I have ever seen. Talk about butchering a great story.....ugh

headphones and legs
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Jeff Buckley waking me up. He did a poor job (not his fault) and I slept through two of my alarms. And now the car won't start. It's just bad heaping on more bad. Now I bet the rest of the day will be less than stellar since I had a bad night.

I reached out to someone and was ignored. I'm told by others this is common enough. That he's selfish, etc. But I didn't care about any of that, my feelings were hurt and for the first time he's completely disappointed me. Despite that, I will never be one of those naysayers who won't support him and the difficulties he's going through. I won't be one of the ones that turns away because of this.

But fuck, it totally hurt my feelings. And it made me cry. Ugh, I hate saying that.
You'd think at my age, I'd get used to a squished ego or bruised heart by now, huh?
I guess not.

Labels: cry, how not to be an idiot, neurotic

Matt Good
Originally uploaded by Dan Lilly.

This is a photograph from Dan Lilly who has the excellent opportunity to take in studio photographs on the work of the new album.

It's hard to look at pictures like these and not feel jealous. They're clear, sharp and evoke something in my head that won't shut it up. Nag, Nag, Nag.

Just the past few hours I feel like I'm slowly going invisible. Like a ghost that never was. We can be invisible without being dead. I look at the girl's insulin vials and push thoughts from my head. Their blood is too sweet, I suppose.

I'm alone right now, except for Buckley. There are some I can call, but I don't feel like talking to them. I feel like talking to someone who knows how it feels to slide under the haze of the lorazepam pollution and not feel the guiltiness that should come hand in hand with how often I feel I need to slide one into my mouth.

The job is making things worse. No routine, no set sleep schedule so I feel like I'm high when I'm at home, and part of the real world when I'm outside.

I thought I was getting better. You know? Getting away from somewhere, setting back up in a 'real' life, fighting my moods, and the stupid highs and lows, my impossible thoughts and aruments about existentialism and my place in the world.

Like water going down the drain, I wonder what happens when we shut off the tap.
Won't someone help me hold this flashlight?

Labels: Gish, how not to be an idiot, lorazepam, Matthew Good, neurotic, underwater

Dear Cowboys,
I haven't felt like I have anything interesting to say. Then someone tells me that Prince did a bunch of old songs at the Superbowl thing. I'm not a Superbowl kind of girl so I would have never seen it.

God Bless Youtube.
And Prince.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iK4EwxRLiik

I've been on this Prince kick since the original Apostle reminded me of the Purple Rain album. I even rented Purple Rain on pay-per-view last week. Then I had a good cry because someone didn't like where I was from (long story, not worth telling again).

My temporary job hours are killing me. I spend most days trying to sleep, except I keep hearing this ringing. By the time I finally figure out it's the phone, the person has hung up. I call Craig back because I miss him and leave him message. Then he calls me right back and we chat. He wrote a song called 'Nothing and Everything' for me and it's going on his new album. I'm a tiny bit afraid to find out what the song says, but curious as well. In my incapacitated state, I told him I just wanted him here, now in my bed to cuddle. It's something like -30 with the windchill around here lately. And I just can't get warm.

I've been eating popcorn and cupcakes for dinner a lot lately. Bad, I know. But quick, satisfying and that's all I'm after right now. I'm on a mission to take some photographs for a theme at The Cooperation. I have my song titles and I'm almost ready to shoot. I just need a few...erm...things first. I'm going to have way too much fun with this.

I have to spend some time with Buckley before he forgets I'm the boss, and show my face in the living room so my television set remembers me.
Love,
G.

Labels: cold, Craig Bancroff, cry, Gish, inspiration, photography, Prince, song

I have this picture in my head. I have a new(to me) chair that I can picture myself falling asleep in. But wearing support socks, and curlers in my hair, an old slip covering my gaunt body, and the light playing off my tissue-paper thin, shiny skin. I would have fell asleep reading the paper. I have that in my head. That's how I imagined Plath should have died. In old age. It's amazing how quickly it takes to put a decision into action, once it's made. One, 2, three, go.

If I can just get back to that level of unawareness, I could be happy again. If I was just willing to settle....

Labels: drama, neurotic, Sylvia Plath, witness

pretty bondage
Originally uploaded by Abstract Magdalene.

Hi there, cowboys, gunslingers and all that pass by this page. I'm drinking a cup of really strong instant coffee because it's the only way I can handle it, these days. I have zero appetite, and when I don't hear the french fries calling to me, something must be up. Must be just my messed up sleep *yawn* schedules and such. Blah, blah, and blah.

Oh, and I've been internet-less for the past couple of days. I posted the above photograph one night on Flickr, went to 'work' (sort of have a temp job) then came home to a chewed power supply courtesy of Buckley. Two days for one to ship to my address and I think I'm in business. But nope. Then the internet wasn't on. Today: two techs, three modems and about 4 phone calls and it looks like we're cooking with gas now. Mind you, that's what I thought about an hour ago, but then that brand new modem expired with little to no fanfare. At least give me something to report, like a small explosion or puff of smoke. Instead, I come across to the 'men in charge of Roger's Com' that I'm just the little lady who hears a funny sound under the hood of her car.

Yes. I've been there. And NO, I still don't need to replace that strut mount, ok? But that's an old story.

I had a funny exchange with Matthew at Flickr a few days ago. It had me laughing out loud and cursing because I had no light in the bathroom to do the photograph that I had asked him to do. Of which he declined. Good idea, though. At some point, I will elaborate.

Interviews lined up for next week. An Incubus backstage pass for possible debauchery and tequila-drinking with D. and the always attractive Brandon whats-his-name. Mostly, Im looking forward to getting together with D, and snapping some amazing photographs. I'm not really a fan, but it should be fun. Oddly enough, my older sister calls me up tonight to tell me Thornley is playing in town somewhere tonight. But since Sekou left the band, I haven't been following their progress. The guy was always so friendly. Mind you, if they decided to do Under the LightHouse...then I may be strong-armed into going. However, the chances of finding out that information in the next hour requires quite a bit of detective work, and I gotta say...I just don't feel up to it.

Ok, then. I guess that is enough of an update for today. I watched the Road to Git-mo Bay this morning at about 5 a.m. and have been mulling it over for the day, while I learned how to properly restrain out of control people without hurting them. Man, the stuff that goes through my head. I'm a social worker. Capital S, Capital W, dammit. I should be out there social working.

Enough. Great photo though, huh?

Labels: coffee, drama, habits, how not to be an idiot, Matthew Good, music, neurotic, pearls