some cities

Christmas without Ryan.

I want to come back the color of cafe au lait, I want to be fierce and butter my hair like my ancestors, the Gauls. My kingdom will be the beach and a bottle of rum. I will be a whirlwind of smoke and air and liquor, I will be wild. In the sense that animals are wild, not angsty twenty somethings with nothing better to do.

The tropics. J'en ai trop!

Wshew.

A dark day today, silent turbulence, a battering ram of emotion trying to tear down the fortress that my tear ducts have turned into. He asks me what's going on in my brain and I make no reply, when did I become so deathly frightened of crying?

The photo shoot last night went well but I got some news that changes everything. The woman who has been telling me, since September, that she's retiring this month, has apparently decided to wait until June. She has picked me to replace her, but holy shit, does she expect me to wait until June? The news didn't even come from the woman herself, it came third party. Now, I had budgeted and planned, since September, to be working full-time again by January. I have been under budget and pleased with myself until last night. Here's my question, why the hell don't people actually ever retire anymore?

Stress. Bills in a stack on my desk. Bank balances stable. For the time being. What are my options? So this morning I perused the internet classifieds and was immediately plunged into a dark cold well of despair. Lights off in an unfamiliar room and the switch is on the other end. Perspective Em, remember the cold and sleepless winter nights. Weakness, or strength?

Substitute teaching. A thick layer of armor sheathing my very skin.

I went to the library and borrowed a couple of books on the legalities of small business ownership. I designed and printed a new poster that highlights everything, not just headshots. I printed a shitload of 1/4 page flyers for the con, with this month's headshot special. Need to drum up some business. I don't think my mass email made it past the spam filter at OC.

The prints from last weekend's event came today, there were only three problems which was fewer than I had expected. After the cost of prints and the charity donation (we did the gig as a benefit for strays) we made $600. Thoughts in every direction. If only we had a storefront, if only if only... it's been Rancid on the big speakers all day today. I can taste it, and that's what makes it smart so.

This idea just popped into my head and I want to write it down so I don't forget. Tomorrow: find out if there's a phone number for the new salon. I want to contact the owner about doing some type of makeover event. We could do "before" and "after" shots. The before being snapshots and the after being real portraits. Of course the salon people would do the in between stuff, but we could set up there to keep the costs low and crank them out like we did last weekend. We could sell the portraits to the clients obviously, but the salon owner could buy prints too, at slightly more than cost, to advertise her skillz. Take... headshot portfolio.

I think I will get that skull and crossbones tattoo. Ramen noodles and occasional bill stress is three thousand times better than a life of purposeless and continual disappointment. Think of Ann Fuller.

This link is for ajax because I want her honest reaction.
www.oberlin.net/~emilygrace/dovin.htm

How Many Street Fights?

Today I was in the video store trying to pick out a rental. I looked at the cover of Knockaround Guys and realized that I was wearing the exact same outfit that Vin Diesel is. Except my coat was Mountain Hardwear and his was leather. I felt pretty cool regardless.

Somebody help me figure out how to get Anne to write a novel. Maybe the threat of physical violence would work.... although she seems to live under the delusion that she could be me up. I've got, like, 100 lbs on her so whatever.

>:)

I was experimenting with a different lighting set up today. It's, um. Well, I like the lighting anyway.

A Remote For My B Day.

So I got a print cartridge today finally after a long period of being a printer bum. Sorry Mom and Dad. I also picked up a pack of tshirt transfers that can go through my printer. I'm... STOKED! I made my very first Sid tshirt. It only took up half a sheet, so I asked Ryan if he wanted to put something on the other half. He was like, "yeah, put 'Never Forget' on it."

"Huh? What, like 9/11?"

"No, like just don't forget. Cause I forget stuff a lot. Like having a string around your finger."

And he closed with his patented cheshire cat grin. (I think it's absolutely hilarious. In the same way that his "taz" rants are hilarious, and the rants about how tshirts look like dresses these days. You're laughing because you agree, but also because of the vitriol.)

On a side note, Ann Fuller makes me want to puke. Just thought I'd put that out there. I have to go past the office at least twice a day. That whole experience, holy shit. Hey Anne, how did we do that for a year?? You did it for longer. I was thinking the other day about how she used to talk to me and simultaneously be digging the eye crust out of her eyes. Man, that shit made me want to puke. I think basically I would have to put her in the category of gross. Above sad, above evil, above horrible, she's gross.

I have two more photo shoots lined up this week. One is of a dog who belongs to a woman who runs the dog training program at the Grafton prison. They partner inmates with guide dogs in training... I think it's a super duper cool program. The other shoot is a portrait session for a coworker who used to make me phenomenally uncomfortable. For some reason I get really anxious around women who are very feminine. I don't know why. It makes me MAJORLY on edge. The french manicured nails. The perfect and flappy hair. The shoes. The purses. The ability to make casseroles. I dunno, I guess in a way it makes me feel inadequate. This photo shoot fills me with trepidation. It will be a good exercise for me. I swear to god I used to be a hobo in a former life. Jeans and a tshirt that hasn't been cut, painted on, or worn until threadbare is dressy to me.

You know how pointy shoes with 3" heels are in fashion now? The ones that are so pointy they look like they could be leathal weapons? Those shoes make me want to kill people. Just thought I'd put that out there.

I haven't worked at a "real" job since September 30th. It is now December 6th. I had to check my computer's calendar to know what day it was. It's CRAZY how my self-worth is tied to having a job to go to every day. Fighting it.

I want to put a skull and crossbones tattoo on my left shoulder but I'm too chicken.

Even though they don't take direction, it's easier to photograph dogs than it is humans. Humans always think they're ugly. Dogs can't care about it. Okay. That's about it. Hum ditty hee hee.

This one is for mom.

This is the reality of what a dog photo shoot is like,

Poor Anne had to talk to the yuppies more than we did.

Behind the scenes

Final Image

Holy Shit.

Today Ryan and I sold over $1200 worth of photography to people who wanted to have their pet's picture taken with santa.

That second zero there, that's not a typo.

Um, ohmygod.

Four hours.

$1200.

I think I might crack up. Don't wake me!

God Save The Queen

I think I'm in love with Sid Vicious.

Life isn't fair, and no one said it would be, and stop your bellyaching won't you, you haven't got it so bad. Sometimes there is just no space to fit into. The pigeon hole where you would belong was never carved out. What'll you do, you'll be an alcoholic, or a junkie, or die young, if you can't deal with it. Or you'll create your own world to live in. It's hard to exist that way, I think, for any extended period of time. Unless you're Trent Reznor. What am I even talking about.

Just tired I guess, of the thought of simply existing. Consumption being the defining quality. "Hey, look at this stuff I got, this is what/who I am." I am this bitter most of the time, but I stuff it down someplace. I just can't fathom how life, human life, could have evolved to the state that it's in now. Work, shop, sleep, eat. Repeat. I think we aren't given enough time as kids to cultivate an interest in anything outside of the norm. We are packed so full of fear that we can scarcely breathe.

"If you don't go to school, you're going to die. How will you ever get a job if you don't go to school?"

"If you don't get a full time job, you're going to die. How will you feed yourself without a full time job?"

There is this weight crushing down on me and I have no idea how to get it off. I wish I could afford to rent a retail space for a couple of months. I see so much possibility in the abstract, but no tangible way to make it happen. They wanted $1200 a month for the Green Iguana space! Yesterday over lunch he asked me, "what are you afraid of?" Without thinking I replied, "falling into a miserable situation and seeing no way out." I have to coach myself into the next step. These past three months have been blissful, but I have to realize that it can't last forever. At least not yet. Trust in my track record of stepping up out of the wrong course of action in the past. Forward, forward.

Brain Blips

I realized this morning that I have this strange dualistic stream of consciousness constantly in my head. On one hand I'm a grumpy old bastard. On the other hand this human experience fills me with inexplicable joy -- even thinking about Ian fills me with a deep and beautiful sadness that I would have to admit makes me feel warm more than it makes me feel cold. Although I have no way to explain this. Anyway, I wanted to make a list of my curmudgeon's arguments/peeves, in order to satiate her.

• People who cross the cross walk at a diagonal (leaving the cross walk entirely) to more quickly get to their car/store, thus taking at least twice the time it normally takes to cross. Especially at an intersection when people are trying to make right turns before the light changes.
  
• People who hover around the "secret santa" trees in stores during the holiday season so that everyone around is fully aware that they're helping the needy. Especially when they give you the shifty eye because most of the time you dress like a hobo. (There is nothing wrong with dressing like a hobo. I don't usually smell.)
• Feeling less and less worthy as a human being the longer I go without gainful employment.
• The way all of our lives are guided by MONEY. It makes me want to puke. It's so arbitrary and MADE UP. And I will have to get another job that doesn't necessarily have anything to do with me because of it! I would like to build a giant house with a thousand rooms. I would open the doors to anyone who didn't smell too bad and was clean and sober and respectful of those around them. People should look after each other more, I think.
• How on ebay the stuff you want to buy always sells for waaaay more than you had hoped, and the stuff you want to sell always sells for waaaay less than you had hoped. What the fuck is that about.
• Men in portraits who make the macho face. It doesn't look tough, really. It looks self-conscious. And secretly we laugh at you when we edit them. >:)
• Old bastards who get copper roofs put on their damn houses. Copper roofs are not for the evil of heart. They are for the wicked cool. I may have to take it upon myself to redistribute some wealth. I always thought a copper roof would look bad ass on pleasant st.

I guess that's it. I'll do a list to vindicate the other half one of these days as well.