stemdeath

Dead flowers. This was all I could get today. Everything else was shit: the neon packages upon packages of Peeps at Target, Leah through the double doors of the dumpster with gross garbage bags everywhere. This is the problem when you have a shitty point-and-shoot, nothing comes out how you envision it. Close-ups are unnecessarily fish-eyed, flashes firing because you can't set a proper ISO, thus either washing everything gloriously out or giving a blinding sheen so annoyingly reflective it ruins the entire aesthetic. Now that is something to be angry about. Photography, more with any other artistic mode I'd wager, is often more about the price-point of your equipment than about an open vision and carnally deft skill.

Registered for the GRE today: April 20th. My friend Ryoko's birthday but also that of Hitler and the Columbine Massacre anniversary. Clearly, I am in a sunny mood, which is unfortunate as we actually do have the rare gracing of sunshine out our windows today. Leah and I are looking into a new apartment and the people over there are really jerking us around with either conflicting information or complete lack of it in the whole. We have the opportunity to get a really great place for about 600 dollars less than it is worth (although the original price is dubiously inflated to be sure--this is Fort Worth. Texas.). But back to the GRE: Leah quizzed me on half my vocabulary flashcards this morning as she laid on the couch: 100%. Now, I just need to learn the other half, run through some more practice Verbal questions and I will be good to go. Oh, that, and learn an entire ten years worth of high school and college mathematics in a month's time. Pssh, cake... fuck.

Leah is getting ready to head out to her workout bootcamp: I am so proud of her for sticking it out and gritting through the debilitating soreness. I rode about 25 mile last night on the bike with the Night Riders, averaging, I'd say, a respectable 13-15 mph. I need to blip one of these rides some night.

Ikea meatballs (our fridge is bursting with almost six pounds of damned things) and Kraft Dinner (as the Canucks say) for supper this evening. Supper? That sounds weird--I never say that...all of my European blip friends are rubbing off on me!

Sorry if this post is too overtly acerbic. But, then again, that is the point of this whole medium: outletting. So, fuck it. Cheers and Happy St. Patrick's Day to you all!