tell me what to do!
I’m completely uninspired, just completely, that doesn’t happen to me. Really. Now I acknowledge that most of what I produce is kitch, hmmm, the fan-fic may be all that stands apart from that, and maybe the “Drinsie” photo, there is a whole series of those I hope my ex has it. (Please say you do, and the scythe.) But seriously, uninspired?
I have a bunch of unedited and unsorted Indian Peaks Wilderness pics, some Wyoming, a few Utah, I even have dog pictures. I have summer camp pictures which I should get up on FB before the kids absolutely implode.
I have a an ag pic project which I started, recording hay growing in Weld/Boulder/Larimar counties; asking farmers the story of their hay, and it does come with a story. This seemed simple enough, and then I got a real deal on good hay, $5/bale, delivered, horse hay. (I’m gifted I tell you, gifted.) Anyhow, I have no more excuse to knock on ppls doors and ask about their hay.
I should be more on top of the roadside crosses. They come and go, their transience is part of their appeal.
Thinking of transience, that is part of the wonder of fan-fic for me, it’s transient. At best it’s archived on the internet, but don’t hold your breath. It’s personal, it’s stolen, it’s secret, its really forbidden literature. It’s a feminists nightmare and a queer activists delight. If I could write some that would be good.
Even my Missy holds no appeal, no psychokilling today dear.
No manga pictures, no finished pencil drawings (I actually do those).
No nasty acrylic paintings for the coffee shop down the street. (Ok, that may be good.)
Ideas? Good? Bad? I’m a little inclined to bad right now. Oh, god, I’m so tired. Just need ideas.
I have a bunch of unedited and unsorted Indian Peaks Wilderness pics, some Wyoming, a few Utah, I even have dog pictures. I have summer camp pictures which I should get up on FB before the kids absolutely implode.
I have a an ag pic project which I started, recording hay growing in Weld/Boulder/Larimar counties; asking farmers the story of their hay, and it does come with a story. This seemed simple enough, and then I got a real deal on good hay, $5/bale, delivered, horse hay. (I’m gifted I tell you, gifted.) Anyhow, I have no more excuse to knock on ppls doors and ask about their hay.
I should be more on top of the roadside crosses. They come and go, their transience is part of their appeal.
Thinking of transience, that is part of the wonder of fan-fic for me, it’s transient. At best it’s archived on the internet, but don’t hold your breath. It’s personal, it’s stolen, it’s secret, its really forbidden literature. It’s a feminists nightmare and a queer activists delight. If I could write some that would be good.
Even my Missy holds no appeal, no psychokilling today dear.
No manga pictures, no finished pencil drawings (I actually do those).
No nasty acrylic paintings for the coffee shop down the street. (Ok, that may be good.)
Ideas? Good? Bad? I’m a little inclined to bad right now. Oh, god, I’m so tired. Just need ideas.