Why I’m not posting.

Vacation was great, but it’s been back to reality, hard-core, since I’ve been back. I have hundreds of photos to sort through and a paper to write that was actually due today. It will be late. Oh well. I am behind in everything.

I’m counting down the days until December 15, which is the last day I have anything of any substance planned. What I really need is a week to spend at home, cleaning this apartment shithole, reacquainting myself with my favorite cookbooks, watching “Quantum Leap” and “Knight Rider,” and actually enjoying Christmas. Imagine that. Sadly, I have just one vacation day left for the year, so that is not looking likely.

No one will care about this but me, but today I discovered that I lost a week’s worth of self-portraits that I was taking for the 365 Days project over on Flickr. It bothers me that my project will look incomplete even though I did it. It bothers me that I spent the time working on it and it’s gone. I could have spent that time sleeping or doing something else. It bothers me that this happened when I was already more than halfway finished. Starting over now is not going to happen. I think I got so excited in San Francisco that I erased the flash drive before I downloaded those photos from it. Oh fucking well.

Next week is Thanksgiving and Billy’s actual 30th birthday. And, even though we’ve already celebrated (I swear photos and stories are coming – I actually have made some progress in organizing them already!), there will be a fiesta here. I’m so tired, people. So so very tired.

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One response to “Why I’m not posting.

  • fiction dept

    I care about the fact that you lost a week’s worth of self-portraits. I’m sorry to hear that that happened after you put in so much effort to do photograph yourself daily for 365 days in a row.

    Michael Stype once wrote a new poem every day. I’ve thought about doing that but, honestly, I don’t like quite that much structure in my life, you know?

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