Someday, I’ll have a portfolio website and the splash page will look something like this. Someday.
Side note: it’s funny what a snapshot taken from inside a subway train, at the end of the day, absentminded, can end up being. 750 pictures. I guess one of them had to come out.
It’s a sunny, so-cal Friday afternoon in mid-February (while the rest of the country is slow-globed) and I’m listening to sad, indie-folk-rendered Christmas songs because that’s what’s circulated through on my iTunes. I could change it, but I think I like holidays best at inappropriate times of the year. Times of exceptional inappropriateness being immediately following the holiday, but not so soon after that it could be considered a lingering after-effect. It’s the difference between (a) leaving your jack-o-lantern on the porch until it rots, and (b) throwing it away on November 1st to carve a new one on December 5th. If that makes any sense.
It probably doesn’t.
The purpose of this blog post is nothing. Bloggity blog blog! I don’t do it enough. Or I do it too much. Either way. I just thought I’d stick something up here, like breaking the seal or mold or your grandmother’s “good” crystal vase. Maybe I should just go back to eating my corn chips and soup.
So a while ago I made the big switch to a real wordpress account at an official domain (drawingpicturesofbirds.com), but because of 50megs’ crappy wordpress platform and my crappy IT skills, its been almost impossible to get up and working correctly. Then those bastards locked me out of being able to edit the site.
I haven’t decided yet what I want to do. Maybe try and revamp this site, get it going again. Maybe stick out the fight with 50megs, transfer the site, whatever. In the meantime, you can find me via the links to your right on other social media outlets. Stay tuned.
… marriage is a civil right.
On November 1st, we threw a wedding party for my friends Rubi & Sally. I contributed the flowers. (Purchased at Whole Foods the night before, assembled in my kitchen, dead and black in my fridge by morning. Luckily, most things go faster the 2nd time around.) The day was exhausting, but beautiful.
On November 5th, angry and heartbroken, we hit the streets of West Hollywood to protest the passing of Proposition 8. And again that weekend at Hollywood & Highland. A lot of people have asked me what I thought this accomplished. I don’t know. For me, it was a chance to stand behind my friends, licking our wounds in the comfort of a community, gathered to ask for the one thing seemingly lost in today’s world: the freedom to love and be loved. As they are. As we all are. And it felt good.