Hey look, it's me!

Our senior appointment didn't show up so we started screwing around with shit. This was a shot taken with a new soft focus filter that Ryan got for his digital. Kinda kewl. I think it'll make a nice addition to the arsenal, especially for those who like the whole "glamer shotz" thing, (there are a lot of them.)

I can't stop hearing Glen Danzig in my head today. You ever have one of those days when you feel like the blues are just chasing you around? I feel like I can't talk to people. Like there's just some fundamental disconnect. But more than that, I feel like I don't want to talk to people. Like maybe that's the disconnect. Like everyone is normal, and I'm crazy, because I can't dig the whole socializing thing. I mean, everybody says that. Everybody says they feel awkward in social situations and what not. It's not even that I feel awkward. I'm totally fine, I can even have conversations that don't stop and go with halting silences like rush hour traffic. I just hate it, and it bores me, and it exhausts me, and I have absolutely no interest in it. And I don't even operate under some haughty emo idea that everyone else is phony, or uninteresting, or not worth it anyway. I don't know. I have no idea how to elucidate what I mean. I'm just so damn tired of all the words, all of the "hey this is who I am/what I've done/here we are." What is that, anyway? It's good, it's what we should do. What else can you do? How else do you learn about people? I'm just so rat bastardly tired of it all. Of being alive, maybe. But that's not some opaquely veiled reference to a desire to end it all, or something equally romantic. My bones are just tired. Some days it is absolutely hard to be a human being. And that might be something totally singular.

I've been working on sketching a new tattoo, depicting the struggle between good and evil (for my mental state.) It will be a partial sleeve on my left arm. I showed it to Ryan and my supposition was cemented; both of the charicatures looked evil. But that's the thing, everything is everything. Ah, words! These failings of language. So far evil sort of looks like Nosferatu, but Nosferatu has a special place in my heart, so it's not entirely evil. The person/thing representing "good" is some type of angel, although she looks kind of like nosferatu too. But that's just it, entirely. Well, first of all it will be a cold day in hell before I get something like an actual angel tattooed to any part of my body. But there's nothing truely angelic to life anyway, in the haloed virginal cherub reckoning. When I'm low and in the gutter you'd better believe that I want Brody Dalle coming to pick me up, and not a blonde headed junior miss america with a gossamer robe. But what does it all mean, anyway? You can never define anything concretely in all of this craziness, your best friend today is sticking needles in your throat tomorrow and there is wickedness in the heart of every martyr. And so I offer you this page from the diary of a misanthrope.

A wink, and I'm gone.