We step over the rats like they're cracks in the sidewalk.

Friday early evening, a well dressed man coming up from the subway was talking to himself. Something to the effect of, "Well alright. You made it through another workweek." That's what it comes down to for most of the world. Maybe not in exactly those terms. You can change "workweek" to any number of things: workday, weekend, famine, ambush, presidency, chronic disease flare-up, flight, round, tour, holiday season, lent, hurricane, war, show, romance, winter, summer, spring, fall, ...



I actually missed the lunar new year parade, but I really just wanted to see the staging area, and resting spot. I missed all that too. I went looking for dragons chasing bad things out of stores, but found only one, and for some reason, I was really cold. Colder than the ambient temperature. Cold radiated from the cameras in my hands. I decided to go buy boots. I heard there was a real snowstorm on the way, and $35 boots sounded like a good idea. Went back to the home neighborhood and ate a fantastic burrito while the snow outside my window picked up.

New boots, snow camera, film, gifts. There's this camera I've been trying to destroy by mainly using it in adverse conditions. An ex had it for a while. I loaned it to her, she said she'd buy it, she broke it, had it fixed for too much money, broke it again, bought a new camera for herself, and finally returned it when I asked for all my things back in that traditional return-each-other's-belongings ceremony that signals a significant end. I fixed the camera, but it was so physically beaten that its resale value was about five dollars, so I decided to use it to death. When it's out in the snow, some of the moving parts get a little sluggish, but it manages to hang on. Don't try to look for a parallel, because that relationship is far deader than the camera.

The snow itself was disappointing. Just a wet mess. Not the blanket of white and silence I hope for. Becca's birthday party was fun, and I hope she doesn't hurt anyone, or herself, with what I gave her. But I couldn't stay. I needed to get out in the weather. Wiped the cake off my hands and face, and moved on. I walked. I took pictures. I saw the club has a big "available" sign on it. I passed the old post-work grocery spot. I wound up taking pictures of a lot of trees, and eventually found Zach with Megan at her bar of employment once I realized the snow wasn't going to get any better. Still, taking pictures that I probably won't glance at more than once makes me feel better. I don't feel any pains, any problems, when staggering through the storm with only one thing on my mind. Made it through another snow. The camera's fine too.

L

I read some subway poetry tonight while waiting for the train home:

Fuck the "L"
Fuck the "L"
Fuck the "L"
Fuck the "L"
Fuck the "L"
Fuck the "L"
Fuck the "L"

It was written on the tiles.

I'm missing things.

Not items, but events.

Also people. Sometimes, people get to this thing by typing a name into a search engine. If it's a name I mention, the post it's in will come up. So I'm going to mention two names: Stephanie Dickson, and Monica Peck. The two have nothing to do with each other. Stephanie used to live here, then she moved to Arizona. Wondering how she is. Monica I met in Lawrence Kansas. She tried moving here a few times, but I guess it didn't take. Wondering were she ended up. That's all. Just curious. So if you came here because you are searching one of those names, let me know what you know.

Hermetically sealed.

I opened my apartment door to venture out for food, and found my hallway filled with some sort of fog. It was actually the view through a sheet of plastic duct-taped around my doorway. I burst through the barrier like George Reeves through a fake wall, and a few floors down I found the reason. They're breaking down the walls in the stairway to the bricks. Now it will be an exposed brick stairway. It looks kinda nice, if not overly trendy and incongruent with the neighborhood. What was surprising was how much quieter the brick area was. No more echoing footsteps announcing my return home.

I was going back to the greenroom last night with one of the managers, and he stopped and turned back because he saw someone was changing in there. I didn't stop because it looked to me like it was the guy who just spent two hours on stage in his underwear was changing his shirt with a dozen other men and women in the room. Then I realized this manager is gay, and maybe you have to be a little more conscientious about things like wether that guy would have a problem changing with a gay man in the room.

I'm just not into this winter. The long awaited first snow was just annoying. Now it's just cold and hard to walk. I can't remember not liking winter this much. I'm not going anywhere. I'm not taking pictures. I'm just waiting until I can walk around outside without thinking about how cold it is, and how I don't want to fall down. Maybe it's that I walk one whole block from the train to work, and it's a really boring block. I don't even have to cross a street. Looking at pictures from my past (as opposed to pictures from my future?) I realize it helps to be somewhere unfamiliar in order to see what's around you. I'm wearing a rut in the path from home to work each day, and carving it fast to keep warm. This city is capable of looking new with each unexplored neighborhood stumbled upon. I know I haven't been here long enough to have exhausted New York City's opportunities. It just seems really cold right now.

Mostly strangers.

I'm still thinking about this morning's dream. It's rare that I can still remember much from a dream by the time I get through breakfast, but every now and then a dream sears visions into my brain. It covered everything from a girl to my old couch to my old apartment to looking for a working bathroom to moving out of the old apartment to a band who knew me because I'm a sound guy to a boarding school where I knew where to find a bathroom. The girl on the couch in the city apartment moving out saying I'll never be back broken toilets grassy hills band of surprisingly sincere hipsters victorian boarding school I knew where to go. Next time I run into that girl I hope I'm awake.

Day of meetings.

I had work dreams last night, and maybe the night before. Work dreams are, almost by definition, nightmares.

NASA is going to look into changing the way they screen astronauts. I don't think what this woman did sullies the name of NASA, but rather makes the whole astronaut breed more human. Although maybe superhuman is more apt for a woman who wore adult diapers to avoid pit stops on a thousand mile road trip. And what fun is a road trip without truck stops? Anyway, maybe this black mark on NASA will bring us one step closer to eliminating the space program altogether. It wouldn't be too difficult to find better uses for all the money. Uses that may actually help humanity rather than sate the boyhood fantasies of scientists whose minds could also be put to better use.

Welcome back to your journal, Becca. And what a comeback it was.

Streamline.

Streamlining. Why are all these cameras in here? Let's try to pick a few to use, and put the others somewhere else. How about less printers in here as well. Anyone need a printer? How about a cheap, plastic CD rack? The guy who said he wanted it last fall obviously isn't coming to get it. When I put it all in the trash, I'll let you know so you can go picking. The heat is finally on high. I'm not sure how I spent this day off. I found two cameras I haven't used in a while had film in them. No more tchotchkes (I looked it up). They just collect dust, and make it hard to clean. I got the 2000 book down to around 120 pictures. Lunar new year coming up. I'm thinking of lining my hallway with cameras hanging from high up near the ceiling. This writing nonsense is, as usual, an excuse to post an unrelated picture.

Why do I have days off?

I don't take advantage of them. It doesn't help that I broke a tooth when I got home from work last night. I guess I'm too old to eat crunchy things any more. I didn't go out late because I have to get up early for what's become a monthly dentist visit. I have close to 300 pictures for my next book. That number needs to come down. I got a "we will not be publishing your portfolio" letter from a photo mag. I pinned it up on the bulletin board. I'm thinking of framing it. I have to frame a few things. And hang more stuff. I got a painting from Thor in the mail today. It's an 8x10 canvas board that he just put my address on the back and mailed. A big, thick postcard. It's a painting of a picture I mailed him a few years ago. I had a few more things to do tonight, but it looks like the boiler is down, so I may as well go to sleep. Taking a shower and washing the dishes are more enjoyable with hot water, and mixing new fixer to refix the negatives from last night requires at least 70 degrees. Oh, and I'm really angry about Boston. Bullshit charges against those guys.