Every time I get in my car and drive anywhere, my head starts ticking about everything going on in my life. It's meditative. Like doing laundry or the dishes or taking a shower. I think about my ex's and why they're ex's. I think about sex, about self control. About where I want to go, physically and mentally. I think about what I want to shoot next. What I'll write in my blog later.

Which has, over the years, become morre and more difficult for me to write anything meaningful. Lately also in my paper journal, which I haven't touched much since sitting in a particularly lovely kitchen in Brooklyn pining away with my pen about how perfect my relationship was, how wonderful and scary the City is. But those days have passed.

Now it's all random adventures. Lastnight I got blasted and fell down some stares. I look like I was in a car accident or my non-existant boyfriend beat the fuck out of me. Drunken Battle Wounds. Holly managed to bust her toe, and nether of us know how. Maybe it was that walk home, who knows.

Recently I'm interested in shooting normal people.. or, I should say, re-interested. I got distracted by fashion and spoiled by New York City models. So I'll continue shooting Miss Holly (featured above) while she paroozes the north-east and works her self into the ground, and hopefully more of the cute boys sauntering around the neighborhood.



I'm rusty, but I'll get there. MVCC is opened back up for their spring semester and while they don't need anyone to work there, I'm going to show my face as often as possible and pull on my Teacher Pet skills to develop my film there. And soon a friend will be handing over a scanner, which will be so fabulous I don't even know what to do with myself. I can't imagine the glory of being able to scan in my apartment.

I asked a super cute girl to model for me today. I hope she emails me cause she gives me girl crush/ photo crush goosebumps. Usually I'm nervous when I ask strangers to shoot with me, but I have to do it living in Central New York, though this time it didn't phase me at all. She just said yes, too, without even knowing what kind of photography I do.

Could you imagine if I were Chip or James or Chris Bush? Hahaaa.

Enough rambling. Sorry, no tits.