Despite having had three beers and the skin of a knee last night, I still woke up before 7:00. Sleep took me early, probably by 10:30, so I guess that's a decent night's sleep, right? There was the intention to go to the gym, or to do yoga, but those goals are waning now. I'll decide once I finish this post. The weather today is purported to be cloudy. It looks it. Yesterday I had some photos printed. I picked them up after work. Because it was the first time I had ever printed anything, I made a few mistakes. I didn't adequately brighten the photos before handing them over to the printer, so some of them are a bit darker than I would have liked. When the ink soaks into the paper it takes on a darker tone than it does on a backlit computer screen. Go figure. My choices of paper yielded interesting results, too. Some photos are too textured, others have too strong a sheen. This was experimental, mainly, and I've already learned a few things from the process. Soon I will be a powerhouse - a proud printing press painting up the flat faces of dead trees. It is the closest I will come to being a cosmetologist. I will demand to be called Glutenberg; not just due to my association with the printing press, but because of all the iceberg lettuce I eat, and my killer glute workout. I will be strictly gluten free as well, to appeal to certain digestively impaired women.
After I picked up the photos I stopped off at a bar across from the printshop, to have a beer before returning home. Have you ever gone somewhere and had a creeping feeling you'd run into someone you knew? Just after my beer arrived, my friend Christine walked in. We chatted for a few minutes about our days and I showed her the photos. She enjoyed them but was supportive of my disdain.
"You're an artist," she said, "you need to think everything you do is terrible."
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