Posts in category "Photos"

Last Minute Halloween Party

Trolley and Steph

Thumbnail: Sushi platter
Thumbnail: Halloween hallway
Thumbnail: Halloween pirate
Thumbnail: Kitty
Thumbnail: Living room
Thumbnail: Me and Trolley
Thumbnail: Halloween pimp
Thumbnail: Pumpkin lights
Thumbnail: Gathering
Thumbnail: Raggedy drink
Thumbnail: Dog skull-and-crossbones cape
Thumbnail: Spooky drinks
Thumbnail: Taking shots
 

Last minute Halloween par­ty means last minute cos­tume.

I’m walk­ing down the con­sol­i­dat­ed aisles of Walmart at 7:30 on Saturday night. The cos­tume pack­ages are all 50% off, and the mod­els on the labels are all pre-teen. I don’t think I’ll fit in the tights of this Batman cos­tume, and this vam­pire cape only goes down to my waist.

I’m sud­den­ly struck with a fit of nos­tal­gia. Remember that time when I was at that par­ty with Becky, who was wear­ing a witch­es mask, try­ing to engage her in a con­ver­sa­tion after we met at the Honest Lawyer1? Remember when we went as Supertroopers to the par­ty at the girls house? Remember when I got drunk off that bot­tle of Earnest and Julio Gallo?

I hur­ried­ly grab a black cowl and bloody knife, and walk to the check­out line. With my full-length leather trench coat, I’m hop­ing it’s enough to gain accep­tance to the par­ty, but not too much to stand out.

As I leave, I won­der if Halloween still exists for those of us past our trick-or-treat­ing days.

So the plan is to get there ear­ly. That way I don’t have every­one look­ing at me when I walk in the door. Bail when it gets too loud, or the peo­ple too drunk. But every­one invit­ed through Facebook was told eight while I was told nine, and I’m almost last one there.

Continue read­ing “Last Minute Halloween Party”…

  1. If you ever read this Christine, I will deny every­thing. [↩]

Patterns in the Chaos

I hap­pen to have a chance to write now. It’s rain­ing, so nat­u­ral­ly the win­dows are all open.

My life has been some­what chaot­ic late­ly. Weekends spent being social have been turned into intro­vert­ed exile, a way of charg­ing my bat­ter­ies once again. The added ben­e­fit is that I have more time to tie up loose ends on my projects. I’m even get­ting back into the still pho­to medi­um again.

Dry erase boards

I installed these dry-erase mark­er boards next to my front door. I use them to keep track of my tasks, projects, and errands, so I can come home and imme­di­ate­ly decide what I feel like doing. The two sil­ver clips are used for hang­ing notes and let­ters.

Nothing feels bet­ter than putting that thick black line through a task. Writing on frost­ed glass is pret­ty tasty too.

Dry erase board closeup

I use the oth­er board for quotes, a way to keep myself moti­vat­ed — or ground­ed — every time I pass by on the way in or out of the house. It’s also a nice way for me to prac­tice my hand-drawn typog­ra­phy, by try­ing to bal­ance char­ac­ters, words, and lines on the board in dif­fer­ent vari­a­tions in an esthet­ic man­ner.

There’s some­thing famil­iar about this. A feel­ing like I’ve been here before, not in this sit­u­a­tion exact­ly, but in the mid­dle of the chaos.

All I know for sure is that I feel like I can han­dle it much bet­ter than if this was hap­pen­ing a year ago.

Believing In Her Beauty

The torso of my beautiful muse

I tell her she’s beau­ti­ful. Over and over again. As often as I can.

But she shakes her head, and says I only think so because I love her.

The front of my beautiful muse

It’s true. But would I love her any less if she did­n’t have those soft, inno­cent eyes? If she did­n’t wear her hair up, or down, or curly, or straight, or dif­fer­ent every time I saw her? If her body did­n’t curve so dis­tract­ing­ly when she lets her­self fall into me?

The body of my beautiful muse

It makes me won­der if any­one sees the same thing that I do.

How much of it is her beau­ty, and how much of it is the beau­ty I see in her?

To me, her beau­ty is obvi­ous, not sub­tle in any way.

The legs of my beautiful muse

So I tell her, over and over again.

Sometimes I think she’ll start to believe me if I say it enough.