Now I only have a few shots left on this roll of film. I have a funny feeling that this whole roll is going to be all about The Thing .... Maybe some pictures of my cats with The Thing ...? We shall see ...
The man hanging the new art show at Quiet Storm asked where I got The Thing ...; I told him the somewhat long story of stealing it from a convenience store in Philadelphia in 1990. He was bummed that it was not a thing that could be easily acquired (but, on hearing my description of anarqueso, he agreed that it sounded like she needed to be The Thing ...'s new owner).
After much picture taking, St. Peezy and I had a very random talk about a number of things, including mental health, memory, and how babies learn. I told him that now I always want to call him "St. Peezy," and not his given name, and he has given me the go-ahead. From now on, it's "St. Peezy" or nothin', babe.
St. Peezy and I also talked about what a rotten year this has been for just everyone. I started talking about all of the people that I've reconnected with whose lives are in the crapper. Once I thought of one person, then I instantly remembered another, and another, and another, until I started realizing that all of these wonderful people that I know are falling apart. What the fuck?
Also, I found out that Monica will be in town for a minute this weekend. Something to do with connecting flights and blah blah blah. She doesn't know if she'll have time to see me, but I'm optimistic. I miss her something awful. I sort of hope that it doesn't interfere with Vince's benefit, but I also sort of don't really care. I've put in plenty of time on Vince's projects over the past decade or so; in the grand scheme of things, my appearance on Saturday night doesn't really matter.
Just a bunch of random thoughts at nearly 1:00 in the morning. What's going on where you are?