Ballot Practice

My schedule careens further and further out of whack with every day that passes. I was up working until after six a.m. yesterday, and then the day seemed so short, and I had work to finish. Matt and I went to the Farmer's Market and shared a pitcher of Stella Artois. And then I went to meet Chris at Cinespace for Channel 101. Steve was there with a wizard hat on. I shook hands with a lot of people. Was introduced to a lot of people. But I'm pretty sure I've forgotten all of their names. Suddenly that infomercial with the memory "system" seems appealing.

Rather than scurry over to the Big Foot Lodge, I made Chris go to Pink's with me, thus popping his Pink's cherry. We ate the junkiest of junk foods at my dining table and talked until I felt guilty for keeping him out so late. It's always the way with me. I wish everyone would want to be up with me all the time. And I secretly hope they won't feel it the next day. But inevitably, people have to go home. Someone needs to call it quits. The party is over. There are plenty of cases in my life when I find myself hoping that if I cover all the clocks and shutter all the windows and manage to keep a low profile when anyone asks the time, the people I like to be with won't notice that any time has passed, and maybe we can have an amazing time together forever. But I realize this has the sound of a manifesto written by a soon-to-be kidnapper. Don't worry, friends. I won't keep you against your will. I won't lock you up and not tell you what day it is. I just secretly wish that every now and then you wish that I would.

I took plenty of pictures. And I will be glad when my new Canon shows up. The stupid LCD on the one I bought is making my picture-taking so random and risky. It's like strapping a camera to the paw of a bear and then seeing what photos he managed to take by smacking the camera against a tree in an effort to get it off. I prefer more deliberate acts of art myself.

When Matt pulled up, I was walking my dog, and I was wearing knee socks and tennis shoes (the cute Donald Pliner ones I recently got), and he said I looked like a super hero. I'm fine with that.