I’ve got to buy new clothes. I’ve had all of my clothes for a million years, and I’m not this person anymore. I know that you aren’t what you wear, but it’s supposed to be a facet, right?

Anyway, I haven’t been posting a lot, obviously. I’ve been trying to get work done. Okay, that’s not entirely true. I spent a few weeks following my Milkweed internship completely glued to the couch watching movies and TV shows that I have already seen, trying to gain some semblance of normalcy, familiarity. Now I feel normal, and I have a ton of work to do. I’m actually tired of watching TV and playing video games, so it’s good that I have some projects going on.

I haven’t even been wandering around and taking pictures, which I had thought was my new normal.

I’ve been working hard on planning my wedding, and it’s coming along. Slowly, and expensively, but surely. I’m very excited. Very.

Last night while I was walking to work, and talking on the phone, a car came careening out of an alley, and nearly hit me. I pulled the phone away from my ear, and in true Philly fashion, started hollering at the driver. He opened his door, and as I prepared myself for a Philly onslaught of retaliative expletives, the driver said “Hey, I’m really really sorry. I shouldn’t have been going so fast. Really, are you okay?”
It was refreshing, and I actually felt bad about yelling at him in the first place.

I’ve been trying to get out more, so when my friend Morgan invited me out with some of her college friends I said yes, and walked down Hennepin to meet them at this bar called Williams. As an adult, I find that I can pretty much ease myself into any situation, except for those times that call to mind high school experiences where I felt totally, and completely out of place. Like that one year where a popular friend of mine championed me as perhaps a token punk and I started getting invited to rich-kid parties.
Williams was full of college kids, and college graduates that wished they were still in college. But, Morgan was there, so I was glad to go. And they had awesome drink specials, and served liters of beer. LITERS OF BEER.

They had a hotdog stand in the bar, which I felt should have been cool, but they actually made it uncool by calling it “Horn Dogs.”

While there, some dudes next to us decided to buy us shots of tequila, without asking us first. I was clearly wearing my ring, and we hadn’t been talking to them, so we drank the shots and then continued talking amongst ourselves after saying “Thank you.” Despite the obvious hints, they kept tapping us and reminding us that what we had just drank was Patron, like it mattered.
So, finally, we started talking to them. They were some army-brat jerks, who continued their parents’ legacy and joined up themselves. When they asked Morgan where she lived, and she told them she lived in Loring Park, one of them looked at her, slack-jawed, and said “Why do you live in the gay part of town, what is she, your girlfriend?”
Bars are the worst sometimes.

Although, there are a lot of gay bars in that part of town, many with sweet names like The Brass Rail, The Gay 90’s, or Gladius. However, from what I hear, they aren’t so much gay bars as they are gay-themed bars where all the straight girls go to dance, making them just regular bars.

I also went out with some friends for tacos, which you can read all about on the taco blog.

A good, old friend, saw how much I enjoy photos of dead things and was nice enough to send me a photo he took a long time ago of a dead bird. I’m passing the beautiful picture on to you, with his permission of course.

Have you seen this Lars von Trier movie, Antichrist?

Although absolutely horrifying, and containing violent themes about the evilness of women that are rather hackneyed, it is absolutely beautiful, and visually the kind of things I wish I could write.


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