I just processed two rolls of film - one of Savannah alleys (an addition to my alley series), and one of Cassidy and a few miscellaneous shots from my second trip to San Francisco. Hopefully these will scan better than the last roll I developed. I will find out tomorrow.

I managed to cut my finger on a piece of wire on one of my metal reels. Typing with a bandaid on the tip of your index finger feels funny.

This is absurdity personified. It is physically sickening attempting to watch George W give his State of the Union address while people applaud his every sentence. There is no way to decipher his actual agenda in the midst of all this bullshit, which I'm sure is its exact purpose.

I can't do it. All those Republicans clapping and cheering is going to give me a headache, and I can't deal with the smug look on his face when they give him a standing ovation. I have too much contempt. I'll read an article about it later.

I ordered this cookbook last night. Who's coming over to create divinely delectable vegetarian meals with me once it arrives?

I did not watch the Superbowl. I'm not even aware who was playing, much less who won. I simply don't care.

Instead, I went to Barnes and Noble and drank coffee while flipping through some photo magazines, and met up with Miss Apple who went with me to see Confessions of a Dangerous Mind. I thoroughly enjoyed the film, which had an incredible, inspiring visual style and was entirely worthwhile. I will most likely end up purchasing the DVD at some point. It was wonderful to finally meet Apple, who is a very neat lady and someone I hope to spend plenty of time around in the future. She even bestowed upon me one of her marvelous paintings, which I hope to frame and use to adorn my walls.

I must note that I have the utmost contempt for the movie people in this town. I had planned to see The Hours, which I was shocked to find is not even playing here. They are just now debuting Chicago. It's shameful. But at least I discovered a great movie in the mix. It's been a good night. I needed that.

Up until today, I had spent the greater part of two weeks alone. I had shared one hour with one friend, and even my mother has been absent most of the time. It isn't a healthy experience, and quite frankly I was beginning to go mad. I had the slight urge to go and run circles in the snow.

Tonight I was with my Statesville crew, but had to leave early due to the supposedly bad road conditions. The roads in my neighborhood weren't nearly as wretched as my mother had warned me they would be after dark, and now I am frustrated that I didn't stay longer.

I really must find a more accessible friend to spend time with. I'm not sure that it's possible... I'm sad to say that no one truly seems interested, despite my efforts in coercing them to hang out with me. I guess I'm simply not made for living here.

I will stop being depressed on the count of three.

The ultimate paradox: I just received a spam e-mail about getting rid of spam.

This will be the last straw. They are introducing the draft to scare people into not going to war. Maybe it is what some people need to see in order to make them put some actual thought into this war. Maybe a counter scare tactic (rather than the current pro-war scare tactics) are what some idiots need to fucking wake up from their hazy MTV-generation-brain-rot state. But what if it does pass? Then what? Are there going to be drafts in this country for a war that's only objectives are oil and greed? Should it happen, I'm moving to Canada.

Mother Nature has decidedly gone bonkers. Snow has been dumped across the entirety of the state, from the Appalachian mountains to, yes folks, even the Outer Banks. There is 8 inches worth piled on everything it can pile on outside my house. Wild, man, wild.

Ze snow. It falls.

Cats are seductive, in that cuddly lure-you-back-into-bed way. I am at this very moment attempting to resist how snuggly my kitty looks all stretched out in the middle of a sea of blankets on such a cold and dreary day. Evil... but in such a cute way.

I just hung up the phone, after a little time hearing his voice on the other end. There weren't as many words exchanged between us as there has been in past conversations. But then again it has been an awfully strange and emotionally arduous couple of weeks, in no particular way other than a bunch of random, odd events piled atop one another. His absence from my daily life has been harshly echoed by the recent failure of his internet connection, which has been down for several days, thus limiting our communication even further. It's been a little disorienting.

In other recent events, Lance is moving to New York, and we met just south of Charlotte to have dinner. I hadn't seen him in four months, and within that time there was a small yet significant amount of confusion on my part about the status of our friendship, and whether it still existed. Luckily, it was simply a domino effect of misunderstandings, but it still led to a bit of worry and uncertainty on my behalf. And so, although we only had time enough for dinner, it was really good to see him... yet at the same time, renewed my notice of his absence from my life as well. Unfortunately, it will be at the very least another 6 or 7 months until we can hang out again.

I suppose you've figured out by now that I've been feeling rather lonely lately. It's not so much an "I am so alone" issue, as just feeling the need for a companion to simply be around. I was used to being alone the majority of the time, and after having brief glimpses of people I feel particularly close to and then having it all disappear again, I am a little haunted.

It's not really a road-block sort of problem, as I do have friends that I see every once in a while, it's just something that's been brewing in the back of my mind lately that I felt the need to put down somewhere. I suppose I just want a little one-on-one, confidante-style company... that's all.

Ben Lee is opening for J. Mascis and The Fog on February 12th at The Cat's Cradle in Carrboro. I am so. fucking. there.

A man from my town is going to be on Starsearch this week. Oddities.

I'd like to take a moment to worship my friend Tia, who just bought me a Holga and two rolls of film. Go tell her how absolutely sweet and fabulous she is. Right now!

Also, my thermometer finally came in the mail today. Darkroom, here I come.

I just watched The Good Girl. For me, it was one of those rare films that makes you really think about your life. What you want, and what you don't want. There was one specific piece of dialogue which was especially provocative:

"After living in the dark for so long, a glimpse of the light can make you giddy. Strange thoughts come into your head, and you'd better think them. Has a special fate been calling you, and you're not listening? Is there a secret message right in front of you, and you're not reading it? Is this your last, best chance? Are you gonna take it? Or are you going to the grave with unlived lives in your veins?"

It made my mind do flips in an arduous sort of epiphany that was nothing necessarily concrete or defined, but simply a feeling of choices to be made - the idea of a very free, yet premeditated carpe diem.

In other words, I recommend seeing the movie.

Would anyone like to buy me a Holga or some 35mm or 120mm film?

...Just thought I'd ask.

My guestbook got Saved.

I am not dealing well with stagnation. It seems even the smallest things refuse to give me leverage. Two weeks ago I bid on a darkroom thermometer on eBay. I made my payment the next day. It was allegedly shipped Monday, the 6th, by first class mail. I have yet to receive it. I had hoped to already be using it to mix chemicals and develop film a week ago.

Little things.

It's snowing, in an everso delicate way. It is almost as if gravity has no authority over the white flakes that are gently, slowly, patiently wafting down from the mass of cold and clouds above. They drift along, every so often stirred by the breeze, as if following a lackadaisical sort of dance.

I don't mind, as long as this doesn't shapeshift into another monster icestorm. I prefer my heat, lights, and hot showers, thank you muchly.

Vavavoom.

I've decided to participate in the Bloggin' Lovefest that is making the rounds today. However, I can't choose just one, so I decided I would go all out and say something lovely about 15 of the people whom I enjoy. Therefore, due to length, I am placing it outside of the blog. Read with care and visit them all, for these are the people I fancy.

I dub thee loved.

There's not a lot to say. I've spent the past few days simply getting better, and the cold I acquired has (for the most part) finally left my system. Hooray.

I spent Saturday night with my Ville of States crew. There has been some drama in that circle as of late. Silly people simply ruin everybody's night.

I'm posting to Pink Elephants daily. If you like it, please leave comments and/or give it votes. Good karma, you know?

Aimee Mann and Duncan Sheik are playing in Asheville on February 4th. Is anyone interested in accompanying me, or do I have to go alone... again.

The great injustice of Mother Nature: Lately I have been yearning for a warm sunny day, so that I might lay in a patch of lustrous, green, sun-soaked grass in a park somewhere. Tuesday I stood atop a ten-story parking deck acquiring some photographs in the bitterly cold wind, which aggravated my immune system and left me with a nasty, achey, dizzying cold. Wednesday and Thursday we've had wonderfully sunny, no-jacket-needed perfect weather, and I have been stuck indoors feeling dreadful.

Double drat.

I despise being sick. Curses.

Last night, after a good day spent with a friend, I was driving home on 321 north. It's a highway that winds through the country on the stretch between Charlotte and Hickory, and late at night it is dark and empty with the exception of the occasional passing car. Last night, it was just me and my headlights and the twinkling nighttime sky. I saw a shooting star. It was eerily familiar, as I had seen the same sort of light in a dream just days before. And I sped on through the darkness, turning up the volume on my favorite Jeff Buckley song.

What is this madness? They've gone and ruined Strawberry Shortcake. Where once she was the godmother of grunge, with her newsboy cap and striped stockings, baby doll dress and old brown shoes, she now rides a scooter with a sweater tied around her waist. Strawberry Shortcake is fucking J.Crew!

Die yuppie scum. Die slow.

I'm done now.

A month today since I was on a flight to San Francisco. Two weeks today since I kissed him goodbye. Time flies and drags on, all at once. But I'll make my way back there soon.

Say hello to my new photolog: Pink Elephants.

I have had two recent dreams in which I was attacked out of intent to kill. I think it is a result of my feeling stalled, and therefore powerless, as I was in my dreams. Yet I am perfectly aware that my situation isn't permanent, and that I can change it, and I will change it. I have just been putting a lot of pressure on myself about so many things, which always has a strange effect.

I have been scanning the employment section of the classifieds rather obsessively, to no avail. I think it's time to spend a day going around to every possible place of employment and inquire if they are hiring. I believe I would feel a lot better if I could just get something started.

Figuring out Movable Type with no prior knowledge of any portion of the program is quite a daunting task. I've been working all day on a new project, and it's been pretty exhausting, mentally - although that did include the coding of the site itself.

Unfortunately, I'm nowhere near finished, and trying to decipher the template and archiving systems after half a day's worth of being confused is making my brain hurt. Ow.

Two lovely new blogs by two lovely ladies whom you should all pay attention to: Miss Lucy and Miss Amy.

2002: a year in images. A collage of some of my favorite photos from throughout 2002, a sort of visual synopsis of the year.

Hello, 2003. Wonderful to meet you. All I ask is that you mind your manners, and I'll be sure not to waste your time.

Happy new year, my pretties.