23 May 2013
22 May 2013
20 May 2013
19 May 2013
On a September night in 1971, a few days after getting busted for dropping acid, a sixteen-year-old curls up in the corner of her ratty bedroom and begins to write. Now the truth can finally be revealed about the mysterious day long ago when the authorities found a child, calmly walking in the boiling desert, covered with blood.
5.13.13, Last class is tomorrow, and summer break "officially begins"
5.14.13, Pain in the ass person at work in meetings all day
5.15.13, Early day
5.16.13, We finally have our whole DVD collection catalogued, and stored on the iPad
5.17.13, New shoes
5.18.13, Started crocheting projects
I'm in love with the grogginess of Sunday morning + how you lay in bed knowing that you need to move + but under the covers feels so much nicer + and then when you finally arise from your cocoon-like bed + staring out into vastness + which for me is my balcony door + and I think wow today I'm gonna be productive + today I'm gonna do some shooting + and then I just end up on my favorite couch + watching some old movie + and chatting with "B" + either way it's my definition of a lazy Sunday.