And Battles Are Won Or Thrown Away

"I hear your voice
Way down inside
A whispering sea
Of towering trees
But no reply

A silence so rare
And more than I can stand
Sweeps like a flood
Through life's flesh and blood
And steals away with it's heart

If I'm losing you
Then there's nothing more that I can say
The fighting is on
And battles are won
Or thrown away

But if I could live
Safe and sound
In God given fields
Or mountains of steel
Then here I'd stay
Till you'd gone

Guilty of stealing
Every thought I own
I will take my turn
To fight the bullfight
Every word's sunk in deep
Like the blades of a knife through my heart
But my strength will return
To fight the bullfight

As time's come to show
I'm told nothing more than I should know
A ship on the sea that threatens to leave
But never goes
This island of blue
Where life clings to your hands
Like water and sand
Will loose it's way
When you're gone

When all's forgiven
Still every fault's my own
I will take my turn
To fight the bullfight
Say a prayer for my release
When every hope in the world is asleep
And my strength will return
To fight the bullfight"

David Sylvian's "Before The Bullfight" describes EXACTLY how I feel right now.

Listen.



This is Natsuko, after the bullfight...

Female Photographers...

...turn me on.

I've shot Meagan, Stacy, Jessica, Lauren, Sarah, Melissa, Tanya, and Melanie.

And I want more.



This is my good friend and very talented photographer, Jessica.

She's moving to Brooklyn soon and I want to shoot her again, badly...

Homework

Tonight, I met my mentor for some beer and food from a White Plains, NY joint that tolerated us. It's always great to see him on any number of levels.

I was given homework, as usual. But this homework is going to take some deep, existential, artistic, soul searching as it butts up against so much marginal and cliche in my mind.

But that's something I've got to figure out as it is MY homework.

Easier is the fact that he said he wanted to do another shoot together ASAP. And creative, production, talent, crew, etc...is all up to me...

I'm honored and cannot wait to come up with an idea that is worthy.

That won't take long.

I hope.

You are never really finished with school. I wouldn't know what to do if I was.



Here's Anais, photographed "after school."

I'm Just A Ghost, I'm On Your Street

"Where have you gone again my sweet?
Everybody wants to know
Where have you gone again my sweet?
Everybody wants to know
Where you gone?

I'm just a ghost, I'm on your street
Waitin', when you comin' home?
Gone so long
"Where you gone?
On a long slow goodbye?
On a long slow goodbye...

In every voice, I hear you speak
Waitin' by the telephone
I close my eyes, I just can't sleep
Roll and tumble all night long
All night long
Where you gone?

I close my eyes, I just can't sleep
Where have you gone again my sweet?

On a long slow goodbye?
On a long slow goodbye...

Goodbye"

QOTSA.



Read it while you look at Naama.
I miss her.

Totally Nineties

Shooting Meagan again today and counting on greatness from both of us. She's got this "totally nineties" silver metallic french cut bikini that's pretty ridiculous that we're gonna do something with. Her hair has been curled in "totally nineties" style and I've styled her with these "totally nineties" sunglasses.

I'm so inspired, that I'm going to shoot her outside in natural light, which is my nemesis.

Photographs to follow.



While we're finishing make-up here, gaze upon all that is Mosh. And her Hello Kitty.

Pure Rock Fury Snowstorm

Driving five and a half hours to Boston in a snow/ice storm is no way to spend a Friday.

Seeing CLUTCH in a tiny little club (The Middle East) turns out to be completely worth it.

Decent beer, sweaty boys with beards and they didn't turn it up loud enough to hurt me, like I thought they'd do.

I was recently referred to by a fellow photographer as "The master of the quiet pussy shot." Even though I would never describe myself that way, I kinda like the description...

Here's Ashley from December:

And I Got What Was, And I Want To Take What's Left

Went to B&H today, which is like a narcotic for me. I was just going to buy two more dimmers, since I apparently misplaced one and another is shorting out. Fifty bucks - no problem.

Oh, then I need some film - some Neopan 1600, probably ten rolls. Oh, and since Polaroid is not making film anymore, I should probably get a pack of #672 and #690 - well, maybe two of each. Oh, and some batteries for the Pentax - you can never have enough batteries. Damn those CR2's are expensive - are you sure these are the cheapest ones you have? Oh, and some 120 film - better stock up on 400 speed black and white and color 800. What? You are back-ordered on the 400? Well, just give me double the amount of the color 800.

Anything else? Nah, I think I'm good.

$240.00

Shit.

That's rent money. But fuck it.

I'm here for a reason. And that reason is to listen to Queens Of The Stone Age really fucking loud.

And there's another reason, I suppose. To get the fuck past my fear of failure and get my book out there into the hands of galleries and commercial reps. Which I have not done enough of. I'm all high and mighty about lecturing my fellow photographer friends, but I need to kick myself in the ass and take a note from me.

Just fucking get it done, man. Just get it done. Josh Homme didn't sit on his recordings of "Songs For The Deaf" or I wouldn't be cranking it right now. Word.

He's a really good guitar player.

Been putting a lot of mental energy - between panic attacks - into what to do next. Gotta keep working, gotta keep plugging away...

The self-portrait series is looming, but it's gotta be right, and I mean that in an over-thinking-it kind of way.

Radio Free Europe on the jambox right now.

Just got off the phone with a friend of mine that I've been pushing for quite some time.

He had a breakthrough today and actually produced a script.

I haven't read it yet, but the fact that he did it - finally - is profound. Like he just said to me "Why aren't we famous yet?"

Godamn your confusion.

He's right. And not that "celebrity" is the end goal, with the two of us, it's certainly not, but with all of the "fans" telling each of us how "great" we are - where's the fucking Cadillac?

What a weird word, "Cadillac."

Talk about the passion.

Got an email from Nerve today saying that my blog was too wordy. And they wanted more nudity.

I can fix that. Ignore all the words and just look at this:



Shakti, from a few weeks ago.

Title is from QOTSA's "Song For The Deaf."

Check it out if you get the chance.

Buy the CD. Download it.

Support the artist.

Me, Right Now

DSC_0030resm.jpg

Grey couple of days. Cranky, uneasy, and suspicious. Of me. Of everything.

I don't think that this music I'm listening to is helping at all, because misery only loves company so much. Too much sensory is currently overloaded. Too much to consider and too fucking much to do.

Shit, that was a whine. Whining is not "pretty." Sorry.

While I was out looking for packing materials to mail prints to three different individuals, the sun went down today really quickly. At 1pm a dark cloud descended over Park Slope and it rained for about twenty minutes, just enough to make the streets clean again. I didn't get wet, but I kinda wish I had. Kinda wish I had.

Sometimes this city turns on you, just like any other place, I suppose, but when this one turns it's daunting. I don't mean Wall Street crash or terrorist attack, I just mean a nearly full moon, early sunset, a feeling in the air of uncertainty and a sense that you should stub that Camel Light out. A sense that you might not make it home, a sense of loss and longing, a sense of the opposite of optimism. Something to remind you of the mess we've made as a species, something to remind you of your own shortcomings and your fears. Something...but tangible.

Disconnected.

With every down turn there comes an upturn. I know. I've done everything today that I know how to do to start the upturn - talk to people who care about me, work on some amazing shots I did of Shakti, listen to music that is supposed to make me feel better, take a walk. Force myself to eat an exotic sandwich. Have some fantastic Argentinean Malbec. But some days...

I want to take photographs again, so I did. Here's a "fat neck" one, even though I am down to "Iggy fighting weight":



Even my boy Dulli is tired of me. Here's what he told me tonight:

"Come on, boy, don’t be such a baby
And maybe – I’ll bail you out
One more time
You got number nine starin' atcha

Get back, boy – or I’ll make you blind
You fucker
This here’s where we settle up
One last sweet drink from your cup
Hand it over, slowly
I’m gone

Come on boy, don’t be such a baby
And maybe – I’ll sell you out
One more time
You at the foot of the master
I’m faster –but I’m gonna take
My time
And I’m gonna make you blind..."

Please allow me to express myself here and bear with me. It's all I got. And I'll bear with you, I promise.

Maybe I should watch a couple of episodes of "Metalocalypse" and have a Camel Light...

Lullaby

Listen.

I didn't take this. But I look at it every day.

And smile.

All Metal, All The Time...

As I get older, I find that I am more drawn to Metal. I have more tolerance for it. Less Art Fag Wino. More Metal. Don't get me wrong, I'm still an Art Fag Wino, but one who apprecites and NEEDS Metal more and more...

It speaks to me. Which is odd. Odd.

It makes sense. The Stooges are my favorite band of all time, and I LISTEN TO BLACK SABBATH regularly.

Case in point:

My favorite thing in the world right now is the Adult Swim cartoon, "Metalocalypse." To the point where I can quote certain episodes (11 minutes each) by heart. To the point where I annoy all my friends and my girlfriend with the shit until they give in like good boys and girls. To the point where I hear my friends and girlfriend quoting lines from it unprovoked. To the point where I put it on at 1am and pass out on the couch to it. To the point where I think that if Nathan, Toki, Pickles, Murderface and Skwisgaar were actually real, I'd like to have dinner with them. To the point that I actually wish they were real SO I could have dinner with them. To the point where I'm thinking about buying the soundtrack album because the stupid joke songs that are in the show are better than most of the music that is legitimately released. To the point where - oh, fuck it, I obsess over shit and this is what I'm obsessing over right now. Thanks, Mark.

I've also spent the last five hours listening to the entire Queens Of The Stone Age catalog over and over and over REALLY LOUD!

They are one of my favorite "dumb, loud, fast" bands. Like The Ramones, The Melvins, and truth be told, The Stooges.

Here's the lyrics to "Go With The Flow" Dumb as hell, but I love the photographic references, and the "I Wanna Be Your Dog" piano. And it's heavy as hell. Not Dethklok heavy, for sure, but heavy enough for a Saturday night.

"She said "I'll throw myself away,
They're just photos after all"
I can't make you hang around.
I can't wash you off my skin.
Outside the frame, is what we're leaving out
You won't remember anyway

I can go with the flow
But don't say it doesn't matter anymore
I can go with the flow
Do you believe it in your head?

It's so safe to play along
Little soldiers in a row
Falling in and out of love
With something sweet to throw away.
But I want something good to die for
To make it beautiful to live.
I want a new mistake, lose is more than hesitate.
Do you believe it in your head?

I can go with the flow
But don't say it doesn't matter anymore
I can go with the flow
Do you believe it in your head?"

Listen.

Here's a newly finished shot of a girl from Utica. She's Metal too.



REALLY METAL.

To Task

I took a very talented and good friend to task tonight with the help of a very talented and good friend who could also be taken to task.

As could I - any time, bring it on...

I just want my talented and good friend to shoot more. To just shoot. More. Volume yields results.

Shed the mental conflicts and press the fucking button.

And I told him this too - as I talk to you, I am talking to myself.

Everybody needs people who care about them. Who care about their purpose, and in my field, their work.

Work is important, it should obviously be self-defining, but sometimes it's too self-defining, and that inhibits.

What are we gonna do next?

We'll see.

Word.

This is a photograph I took not so long ago with Sanders McNew's Rolleiflex.



It is not self-defining at this point, although it probably was at the time.

Either way, I am not scared of showing it here.

Word.

Idle Hands

Saw The Gutter Twins' first live show last night at The Bowery Ballroom.

A little sloppy at first, but then Mssrs. Dulli and Lanegan found their very, very sinister groove. The main set consisted of the new album, "Saturnalia" in it's entirety save for one song, and covers of Massive Attack's "Live With Me" and José González's "Down the Line."

The second set began with Lanegan's "River Rise" (the first song off of his very first solo album), then The Twilight Singers' "Papillon," Lanegan's "No Easy Action," The Twilight Singers' "King Only," Lanegan's "Methamphetamine Blues" only to end with The Twilight Singers' "Number Nine."

And somewhere in there at the end of "Papillion" Lanegan did a little Screaming Trees ditty that escapes me right this second. I swear I'm right. But no Whigs...

The juxtaposition of the two former frontmen was something to see - Dulli, jumping, smoking, preaching, jamming, screaming "Let's Do it." while Lanegan clung onto the microphone for dear life. Once he planted his feet on the stage, he never moved them. He smiled a little just once, and spoke three words to the audience the entire night: "Mr. Greg Dulli."

I found the set-list online this morning, less than 12 hours after the end of the show. Kids...

The Road To Xanadu

"If you try to probe, I'll lie to you. Seventy-five percent of what I say in interviews is false. I'm like a hen protecting her eggs. I cannot talk. I must protect my work. Introspection is bad for me. I'm a medium, not an orator. Like certain oriental and Christian mystics, I think the 'self' is a kind of enemy. My work is what enables me to come out of myself. I like what I do, not what I am...Do you know the best service anyone could render to art? Destroy all biographies. Only art can explain the life of a man - and not the contrary."

- Orson Welles, 1962.

Word.



Erin, 2007.

Word.

Silver Gelatin

I am in the process of having three museum-quality prints created for a collector friend of mine that has recently purchased them for his new home in Atlanta. This is a huge learning experience for me, as I have never done prints of this quality. So, I called my boy Jerry who works in the Exhibitions department at Duggal and last week, had a meeting with him to discuss the process, the results and the costs.

The shots all originated on 35mm Fuji Neopan 1600 film. I'm a Virgo/control freak, so I wanted the ability to scan the negatives myself, retouch them digitally and then provide a file to the printer. Of course, they can only do Silver Gelatin from negatives, so they offered to strike new 4"x5" negatives from the digital files. Apparently this procedure has been given a blessing by several prominent galleries and museums as a way of a nod of acceptance into creating prints that originated digitally, i.e. strike a new 4"x5" negative from your digital photograph and only make prints (a run of 100, let's say) from that negative. Even though realistically, one could always repeat the process a la Mr. Dali.

So I scanned the negatives at 1:1, which yielded TIF files with the following properties:

2500 x 4000 pixels
16 bit
3200 dpi
20 meg file size

Today I went in and saw the new 4"x5" negatives - gorgeous! And I met Jim, Duggal's master printer way down in the catacombs under 23rd street. He had just finished printing a run of shots (including the astonishing "DC-4 Flying Over NYC" which I saw drying) from the Bourke-White estate. Jim and I talked for about half an hour about the look and feel that I wanted - warm vs. cool, glossy vs. matte, to bring out some mid-range or not and I left feeling pretty impressed. Plus, Jerry made me a great deal.

On the way out, I met with Mr. Duggal about possibly having some of my work in their "gallery." He was slightly intimidating, but warm, as he looked through my portrait book. He said my stuff was "incredible" and that it was perfectly suited for galleries and "racier magazines." That one made me smile. I mentioned that I was in the Taschen book but left out that I'd been published in Penthouse Forum. He's about to launch a show there in the lobby that is all about "ecology" to coincide with Duggal going "green" (impressive if they can pull it off, considering it is all about chemicals) and told me to see him again in 3 months. Cool. There's something about knowing that one of your shots, blown up to 25 feet by 15 feet is hanging in the lobby of a place where every major photographer (or at least their assistants) walk into every day of the week.

I also dropped off the two rolls of 120 that I shot of Meagan with Sanders McNew's Roleiflex. Shot at 200ASA, but metered to 400ASA on 400 Tri X. Push -1. We'll see...

Meanwhile Meagan and I visited Sanders and Melanie so that Sanders could shoot her and so that I could hang out with them. I've known them for several years - Sanders shot my BIO photo on my website and I've worked with Melanie three or four times. The great thing about both of them is that not only are they both incredibly talented at what they do, they are also incredibly smart, nice, friendly, unselfish human beings. He shot 5 rolls of Meagan while I drank beer and talked to Melanie and then I asked him to shoot a roll of us, and of course he obliged. He's that type of guy.

The first shot he sent last night was one of those. It took my breath away. I think it's one of the best photos ever taken of me. I'm super critical of myself in front of the camera (which is why the self-portrait series is so difficult) so maybe it was just the fact that I was so comfortable in the room with everyone that I just let my guard down. Or probably more likely, Sanders just got a moment the way he always does. It's an incredible image.

And no, I'm not going to post it here.

It ain't mine.

Last night Meagan and I had a bite to eat with Stacy Leigh, one of my favorite friends/photographers as well and an all around nut. We were at a fairly hoighty joint on Park Avenue South when Stacy and Meagan disappeared into the bathroom and emerged with Meagan's Polaroids of a half naked Stacy - typical...

There was also plenty of point and shoot madness with Stacy and I hamming up for Meagan's little Olympus with the perfectly obnoxious flash. After several hours, the two tables next to us couldn't contain their curiosity. And jealousy. I felt all big pimpin'. Or something...

Not really, but a little. But I was proud. Proud of my cult. Proud of my friends. Proud of the talented, beautiful people I've met as a photographer.

On Saturday, my friend Brian and I saw the Horst exhibit at the Forbes Gallery on 5th Avenue and 12th Street. It was the first time in a long time that I remember getting goose-bumps at a gallery show. And it happened twice. If you love his stuff, I HIGHLY recommend it. Highly. At one point I asked Brian to cause a diversion so I could steal the Dietrich picture, but he was having none of that...and I was sober. Unfortunately so was he...

I have a lot of work to do. I'm gonna start thinking about the end result right now.



This is Meagan from December.

Ten Bands That Should Reunite Right Now

And I'm not fucking kidding.

(all members as of this writing, being alive)

1. Hüsker Dü
2. The Grifters
3. The Smiths
4. Swans
5. Bikini Kill
6. Japan
7. Fugazi
8. The Leaving Trains
9. Galaxy 500
10. Shockabilly

"Indecision Is My Enemy...

...unlock the cabinet, hey hey hey
I'll take whatever you got got got
Now I'm on it, now I'm on it
And you're done."

I'm a mess, but I'll be okay. Tough Friday...and tomorrow is going to be the worst...

The 2nd degree burn on my right middle finger is healing nicely, albeit with a different fingerprint. I'll let the FBI figure that one out...

The bruised rib still hurts like hell, but no Vicodin tonight.

I'm gonna kick.

Dulli, again.



Meagan Marie, too.

She'll be here in 36 hours, and that makes me happy.

Sharp-eyed viewers will be able to pick out the Elvis Costello box set on the top shelf of the record cabinet...

Vicodin

Is bad.

Had a date with six people tonight at 6pm. Sarah, Brian, Chris, Marko, Tito & Juergen.

Took Vicodin at 3pm and set the alarm for 5pm.

Woke up at 8:30pm wondering what day it was and why it was so dark in the morning.

FUCK.

Pain sucks, but man, this drug, sucks worse.

And now I don't know what to do with myself...

Except make it up to Sarah, somehow.

Sigh.

I am SO not a junkie.

"I Don't Need Anything But You"

If you search for your name, Google hands you this:

"JAMES M. GRAHAM, farmer, post-office worker, was born November 21, 1842, in Mercer County, Pennsylvania, on the farm where he now lives. His father, Mark Graham, was born in a house which stood exactly on the line between Washington County, Penn., and Virginia. Arthur Graham, the father of Mark, bought the farm where James Graham now lives from John Hinelight, who got it for services in the Revolutionary War. Arthur came to the county when his son Mark was about sixteen years old. Arthur Graham had three children: Mark, Samuel, and Isabella, who married William Cummins. Mark Graham was born August 30, 1813. He was married May 11, 1837, to Nancy Reed, daughter of William Reed, who settled in East Lackawannock Township, but died in Jackson Township. The children of Mark and Nancy were: Samuel, born March 20, 1838, and died May 14, 1880; Alexander E., born October 31, 1839; Martha E., born October 5, 1841; William R., born August 20, 1843, died October 19, 1861; James M. and Arthur W. The father died April 9, 1870, and his widow March 1, 1885. They were consistent members of the Methodist Episcopal Church. Their deaths occurred in the house where Arthur W. now resides. Mark was a strong Abolitionist, a Republican, and was once poor director. Our subject was educated in the common schools, and brought up at farm labor. He was married in 1872 to Ella Douglass, and has three boys: Francis, Joseph L. and Herman D. Mr. Graham has been school director and township auditor, and is a staunch Republican. Archibald Douglass, the father of Mrs. Graham, was of Scotch extraction, a native of Pennsylvania, and married for his first wife Maria Parks, by whom he had seven children: Joseph, deceased; Dr. Thomas J., lives in Ottumwa, Iowa; Mary, the wife of Dr. Joseph Lusk, of Butler; Milton, deceased; Sarah, deceased; Nettie, married Col. George Noble, lives in Dallas, Tex., and Lizzie, who lives in Ottumwa, Iowa. Mr. Douglass was married again, to Mary Weaver, a native of Maryland, and had three children: One died when six weeks old; Maria, married Joseph Cochran, and Ella. Her father died in 1869. He was for many years connected with the official business of Mercer County, and is mentioned in the historical chapters of this volume. His last wife died in 1861. They were members of the First Presbyterian Church."

His last wife died in 1861. My last wife is still alive.

Title from the Martina Topley-Bird song, "Anything." It's from her wonderful, wonderful, wonderful album, "Quixotic." It's UK only (ignore the US release entirely) and hard to find.

And completely worth seeking out.

Trust me.

Listen.



The Newton homage photo is of Anna, who was a good sport. And thanks to Chris Bush for the DVD. And no, Chris, I'm still not finished with it...

"When I Was Young And Full Of Grace...

...and spirited - a rattlesnake
When I was young and fever fell
My spirit, I will not tell
You're on your honor not to tell

I believe in coyotes and time as an abstract
Explain the change, the difference between
What you want and what you need, there's the key,
Your adventure for today, what do you do
Between the horns of the day?

I believe my shirt is wearing thin
And change is what I believe in

When I was young and give and take
And foolish said my fool awake
When I was young and fever fell
My spirit, I will not tell
You're on your honor, on your honor
Trust in your calling, make sure your calling's true
Think of others, the others think of you
Silly rule golden words make, practice, practice makes perfect,
Perfect is a fault, and fault lines change

I believe my humor's wearing thin
And change is what I believe in
I believe my shirt is wearing thin
And change is what I believe in

When I was young and full of grace
As spirited a rattlesnake
When I was young and fever fell
My spirit, I will not tell
You're on your honor, on your honor
I believe in example
I believe my throat hurts
Example is the checker to the key

I believe my humor's wearing thin
And I believe the poles are shifting"

Poetry.
Some day they should teach this in Honors English in public schools all over the country. Along with "The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway."
Word.

Stipey Mike and those Athens boys.
Pretty much sums up how I'm feeling right now, being all hopped up on drugs, notwithstanding...



Shakti, from a couple of weeks ago...

Here's What I Did Today...

...I woke up with a debilitating pain in the back of my right, upper rib cage.

This is something that had been bothering me a little since Saturday, but no big deal, considering what happened on Saturday. Then I went bowling on Sunday night and again on Monday night and "dudes, I was throwing rocks!" Last night during the 7th (approximately) frame of the 4th game, something popped.

So anyway, I woke up with a debilitating pain in the back of my right, upper rib cage.

And let me explain the relativeness of the word "debilitating." I have a VERY HIGH pain threshold. I often (and within the last three weeks) get dental work done with no Novocain.

This shit this morning, however, was jaw-droppingly debilitating.

Dragged my ass up to Dr. Yaffee, miracle worker and big freak, on 65th and 3rd Avenue and saw one of his PA's. She was all cool and kinda hot in that, you know, "I'm a Doctor" kinda way (even though I was in FAR too much pain to care) and after insisting that I look at the x-rays with her (it's my body and I love doing that shit) she determined that nothing was broken and nothing was dislocated.

Dislocated was my biggest fear. Actually, truth be told, relocation being a bigger fear than dislocated.

She said no bowling for a month. And to tone everything else down too. Just a tad. For the time being.

So participating in two of my favorite things in the world got me here.

Through the pain, I hope you can see the smile.

The Remedy:

(Prescription) Naproxen Sodium.
(Prescription) Skelaxin.
(Prescription) Hydrocodone-Apap.
(Over-The-Counter) Bottle of Yellowtail Shiraz.
(Over-The-Counter) A couple of Camel Lights.
(Music, courtesy of Mark Poutenis - see link to the right) Clutch, really, really loud.
(Magic) Meagan's voice.

It's quite the cocktail, but I'm feeling better already...



This is Sharmeen from a long time ago. She's a really good friend of mine who has recently gone through some tough fucking shit too, and has recently relocated to Detroit.

She makes me smile.

Sharmeen, you make me smile!

I bet it's fucking colds in Detroit, yo.

World Turned Upside Down

I'm back.

Here's a photograph that I took recently that I'm happy with.

It's Ashley in Garner, NC.

There is beauty anywhere you look.

Even Garner, N.C.

Bye.

I'm gone.

"We Go Underground, Because There's Emptiness Above..."

I'm off to "The City That God Forgot" for the weekend.

I will not be on-line and I will not answer the phone.

So, in the meantime, enjoy another photo by my brilliant friend Lauren.

I love that the way she framed it makes it almost G Rated.

Almost.

When she finally makes a website thing, I'l link to it...



Rain here in the city, and probably snow where I'm headed. Damp dampness, the kind that makes your bones cold and fogs up your lenses.

Greg Dulli quote up top. Damn, that guy is good.

It's a coffee and cigarettes type of morning.