I’m thinking this and writing this and I have to say something to someone but Pat’s busy, Julie’s out of town, and John’s gone missing. Not that they would understand anyway. Not that even I understand.

De-loused in the Comatorium is cranked on my speakers right now because it’s how I feel. Last week, my neighbour told me he’s never heard a peep from me. Now I question whether I’m pushing my luck. It’s like I stepped out into the darkness of a cool night from a production of Equus. These synapses firing. The jitteriness. It’s ten, I haven’t had dinner, but I’m shaking too much to eat.

I feel like I could write for days and days and days and days. Maybe I’m just happy to have something to write about. Maybe I’m just happy to feel this way again. This self-destructiveness, even in the face of certainty.

A little clock in front of the turquoise man says I’m away, but I’m here. Talk to me, Darren. Where are you? Only you would get it. Only you know how I feel, because you’re probably feeling the same thing right now.

We’re drawn to that which hurts us. In this way, we reveal our vulnerability, and only those who are so vulnerable recognize their own.

It’s time I turned down this music. It’s time I put some food in my stomach. It’s time I scalded myself in the shower. It’s time I got some sleep.

Sometimes you don’t know you’re alive until you’re burning.

It’s been a full year since I did one of these update entries. It’s interesting to read the last one. Addressing the subjects I wrote about: I’ve changed layouts three times, I’ve received over 2000 comments, Balls of Fury was hilarious, and my trip to New Hampshire changed my life.

The Car

I finally, finally, finally got a car.

For years I took the bus, just so I could put the money — otherwise spent on a loan, insurance, gas, or maintenance — towards my mortgage or photo gear. Things like heavy groceries, purchases of large or bulk items, and trips to remote areas with no bus service would leave me dependent on the favours of friends with automobiles. No more.

It’s black 2008 Honda Civic Coupe, like the one above without the tinting. At first, I wanted it in grey metallic but it looked rather blah in the showroom.

I should have it next week. Trips to Montreal (for photography and food) and Toronto (to visit John and Darren) have already been planned, as well as the surrounding areas during the springtime. And if Bronwen and I were still on speaking terms, I’d drive her to the Casino du Lac-Leamy to gamble on the horses.

The Temporary Housemate

Alex is staying with me for two weeks while he does a medical internship at CHEO. The company will be a welcome change. It’ll be nice to have a roommate for a bit and give me an excuse to watch movies that I don’t otherwise make time to watch.

The Photo Gear

Fed up with the deep red of my studio and taping black construction paper to the walls, I bought a black muslin backdrop.

Dolly, being a cat who must sleep on anything new in the house to mark her territory, promptly settled herself on the backdrop as soon as I had finished ironing it.

I also got a Chimera XXS softbox for one of my next projects, which will heavily use macro shots. The softbox will allow me better control of light, as well as more even distribution of light than an umbrella.

Next on the list is a second flash and stand, but it’ll be some time before I can afford that.

Sometimes, when I pee, I shudder a little bit. Not only that, but a sound may escape me. The only way I can describe it is a soft, trembling, exclamation.

Sometimes, this happens at a public bathroom.

Sometimes, there happens to be someone standing next to me, also peeing.

Sometimes, I get funny looks.

Snow is a relatively hard thing to capture on film. With so much white, there’s very little contrast or texture, so nothing to lead the eye. You want to give a sense of being suffocated by all this now, but too much of the same thing in a picture becomes boring. It’s balancing the subject and working with available light that becomes important.

I don’t think we’ve reached the record for snowfall yet, but we’re close. I tried to walk to work, but gave up. Even trudging through the snow to get these shots left me sweating. It’s days like these that I’m thankful that I live in a condo, because my condo fees go towards shoveling the parking lot. People told me they had to shovel their driveways a couple times in one night.

I’m just coming off a moderate cold I’ve had for the last week. All the classic symptoms — runny, stuffy nose, congestion, slight headache, yellow phlegm — but oddly enough, barely a hint sore throat. It’s been unpleasant to say the least.

A little while ago, Tiana wrote “I look in the bowl after to see how impressive it was. I’m pretty sure you do too”.

This cold has made me realize that I not only look in the bowl (I’m sure Freud would diagnose us as being fixated in the anal stage of psychosexual development), but I open my Kleenex after blowing in it as well, to check for discoloured mucus, phlegm, blood, or bits of brain that may have escaped through my nose.