burn, to a crisp

After a two hour wait at the border, we got home, worn, exhausted - burnt to a crisp.
New York can drain the life out of you if you let it - can be a good thing, can be a bad thing.

The opening was great. I was just elated beyond anything that two new flickr friends made it out of their way to come by. That really made it worth while. Really...

The rest of the night was a blur of loud live bands, club hopping and too much wine. Sunday was the worst hangover I've had in years.
Should have known that the wine would have done me in - but hell. It was free...

Went to a Mexican restaurant that night - Mama Mexico. What a blast. Il, E and I went and drank pomegranate mohitos while a roaming mariachi band serenaded us (played happy birthday for me, as well as besame mucho - a real tear jerker...). Despite the fact that I was having my own marching band in my head, the evening was filled with laughs and good times.

good times...

but now I'm feeling low, reality check and things don't look so hot.
The darker side of life says: nobody from any of the hundreds of galleries you sent postcards to showed up, you spent over $1000 in frames and prints, with not one sale, and now what's next?

What's next?
I guess I'm the only one that can really answer that question, but I'm afraid to open my Pandora's box of wishes only to see that it's now empty...


I hate these crash and burns.

Burn, to a crisp.