I love this woman.
I’m so incredibly lucky to have her in my life.
She has done so much for me.
One of my deepest desires in life is to get recognition from my father for my skills as a photographer.
I guess I just want him to be proud of the pictures I take.
He was a photographer for years and I’ve learned a lot from him.
Say what you want..
I’m really happy to be spending Valentine’s day with my girlfriend this year.
Last year I wasn’t so lucky.
Today is the one year anniversary with my wonderful girlfriend Annie.
It’s probably been the best year of my life. She’s been a very big part of that.
Penny for your thoughts?
Lately I’ve been considering quitting my full time job and just working part time.
I feel like this would be a good move because I can probably survive working part time an working less would give me more time to focus on creating and selling my artwork. I’d also be able to devote more time to writing and recording music.
What do you think about this?
Like, does this seem like a reasonable idea or am I just nuts?
All that’s left in this room is my stereo, my records, my bed and my computer.
Almost done moving.
So excited.
Can’t wait to have room to cut up magazines again.
It wasn’t so bad.
In and out.
I found myself wondering if the waitress hates her job as much as I hate mine.
Both of us, night people, probably not by conscious choice or by way of merit, but rather some circumstance beyond our command engaging us in this nocturnal life.
She had those acrylic nails that have shooting stars and glitter on them. She seemed nice enough. Attentive but not overbearing. I was the only customer. she seemed weary as she took my order and served me the pancakes, scrambled eggs, and milkshake I had ordered. She turned from rolling silverware into napkins to ask me how everything was.
“It’s great.” I replied. My expectations had not been high.
I finished eating and began tidying up after myself. I’d just spent all night cleaning up after people and I’d be damned if I was going to make someone else clean up after me.
The check came. The bill was $8.47. The milkshake I’d ordered had cost almost as much as my food. I tipped the waitress $3.53 for a nice round total of $12. I figured she’d probably earned it. If not from me personally, then probably from some other asshole who had complained about everything and left a lousy tip. I suppose maybe I’m just generous.
As I left I held the door open for an older couple and a younger man. I assumed he was their son. They smiled and thanked me. I nodded and turned away.
