The power of images to change over time. You take them and then wait six months and look again and everything is different. I guess it’s the same idea as with writing, or any artistic project; you’re too close to it at first to see everything. Stick it in a drawer for a year and it becomes something else.
Anyway, I was looking back at my photos from Chile and remembered how much I love this.
Also I guess pretty much all I do when I come home is eat delicious things like salmon and brownies, sleep, get driven around or drive places, drink a lot of beer and wine (okay, maybe not a lot, but a lot for someone who gets drunk on less than two glasses of wine), run or go for bike rides, and have sex. Pretty cushy.
Coming home is weirder and weirder every time. This was hitting me especially hard at 4 am the other night when I was jetlagged, staring at the walls from my childhood and teenage years and feeling like I’d fallen into a timewarp.
lying in bed reading Tina Fey’s memoir because I deserve it.
OH GOD WHY ISN’T IT OVER YET MY EYES ARE FUCKING DYING?!
well, it looks the same from the armpits up, ha. I stole it from my sister?
margo- you have my work t-shirt? WEIRD
required viewing at my high school. No joke.
Damn, now I want to watch this instead of writing about land tenure changes in the Maasai community.