i hate it when "what ifs" keep you up at night.
like what if i fail at photography and i end up doing sears portraits for the rest of my life.
sometimes it really scary to think how little i know about what i'm doing.

back home to my small room and rainy weather....

road trip 2005 was great: in the 2 days on the road and 2 days in lennoxville and montreal we listened to iron and wine, blondie, the strokes, the bloc party, old rap, motown and the shangri-las.
visited gas stations, the little red caboose and danced to ra-ra-rasputin outside of a u.s. harveys.
we saw a dishwasher thrown of off a 4th floor balcony, played some foosball, slept in a king sized bed where millions of other girls have probably slept before and drove to montreal with a slight hangover.
in montreal we saw more skinny girls than ever before, met our guardian angel charlie "chuck", shopped at urban outfitters, spent lots of money, sweated off 5 pounds in the heat, met grumpy parking nazi, napped, went for a swim, got dolled up for downtown during grand pre weekend, met up with some aussies, saw vin diesel, got free drinks, went to a creepy sex club, lost deanna, i cried in a stairwell, deanna molested a girl.
saturday we got up late, went to second cup to pick up drinks, sarah got lost for two hours in crazy montreal traffic, thugs said to us "hey you little dirties get the fuck back here!", drove to lennoxville, stopped of at the cute little hotdog stand with the cauldron where the cute old man was actually crazy and chased us of his property.
we saw guys have a puking competition of their balcony, drank in a gazebo, went to the "cappucino", danced to micheal jacskon at "the lion", slept in a car and then that same king sized bed.
on the way home on sunday we drove for 13 hours on barley any sleep, got stuck in a raintstorm, dee peed in the rainstorm, talked and got home at 12:30.

i'm trying to learn this song on my brother's guitar but i can only play the first few bars. my dad used to play this song all the time when i was a kid. i hated it. i said it was "too morbid" (an exact quote). now it's nostalgic. it sounds like brown carpet, being small, rainy days and colour photos that are beginning to yellow.

Well I'll be damned Here comes your ghost again But that's not unusual It's just that the moon is full And you happened to call And here I sit Hand on the telephone Hearing a voice I'd known A couple of light years ago Heading straight for a fall As I remember your eyes Were bluer than robin's eggs My poetry was lousy you said Where are you calling from? A booth in the midwest Ten years ago I bought you some cufflinks You brought me something We both know what memories can bring They bring diamonds and rust Well you burst on the scene Already a legend The unwashed phenomenon The original vagabond You strayed into my arms And there you stayed Temporarily lost at sea The Madonna was yours for free Yes the girl on the half-shell Would keep you unharmed Now I see you standing With brown leaves falling around And snow in your hair Now you're smiling out the window Of that crummy hotel Over Washington Square Our breath comes out white clouds Mingles and hangs in the air Speaking strictly for me We both could have died then and there Now you're telling me You're not nostalgic Then give me another word for it You who are so good with words And at keeping things vague Because I need some of that vagueness now It's all come back too clearly Yes I loved you dearly And if you're offering me diamonds and rust I've already paid
"Diamonds & Rust" by Joan Baez