I can't for the life of me figure out how to take pictures inside with this new camera. I miss my old camera, even if it only took low-resolution photos. Sigh. How about a bad scan instead?

Because things are going... going... really well, at the studio. I feel like a year's worth of ennui, "life direction" panic, and general confusion has been set aside, and all these ideas are taking form... not in writing right now, but in collage, and I'm really pleased with how it's going.

On a silly professional note, I've designed the logo, printed up little signs, and have ordered "business cards," which I partially think is ridiculous but people keep asking for them, and if people ask during first-Friday and I have to stop and write down my info on a scrap of paper, I'll be irritated. Not that I'm likely to get tons of people visiting, but I do have to say that one nice aspect of this building (ignoring all the scraps and shit in the corridors which makes it difficult to even find the studios upstairs) is that the folks down the corridor are trying - really business-trying - to get a gallery going, all set with a graphic design office attached. They've put serious attention to officially getting on the Allied Arts map, of advertising, of word of mouth, of connecting with everyone in the building, and of even hiring a dj for this Friday night. All this will no doubt be a boon for me, re: walkbys.

I don't even know what I'm thinking this place is anymore, except the best idea, perhaps the only idea (beside making a garden), that I've had all year. Thinking about it make me feel a bit sassy again. And while I don't expect tons of friends to fly in from Chicago to visit, or even friends to show their work (the last "work promisee" flaked out on Monday), I do think there will be plenty of family (my Grandparents finally arrived from Texas! and Alison/Peter are still around for another few days... not long enough and badly-timed in that I'm working in my studio about 8-10 hours a day, but still here for a bit longer), family friends, and a couple of drop-bys from community college. That sounds good enough to me--not too overwhelming, not too bleak and lonely.

On a black lining in a silver cloud aside, my dad, in response to my official invitation, wrote a 6-sentence email back with the first line 'lamenting' the fact that he has his own reading to go to that night, and the other 5 lines discussing his new chapbook, his loyal and beautiful fans, himself, and also himself. Without a word of congrats or "of course I'll come, and bring all the people you asked me two months ago to bring!" What an ass. I'm seriously contemplating changing my last name to my mother's last name. But, oh well, I guess I always knew that his world was about himself and the ladies he lusts after.

Oh, but I got a tent. I'm hoping my back keeps improving (I'm doing yoga 2x a week in addition to class) and that I can go backpacking for the first time in years. It's a sweet tent--lightweight and everything.

Ok, I'm thinking maybe the gloss has dried enough for me to start working again...