in/out

so in less than 12 hours, a new decade will be upon us.

We will be entering a whole new era.
I know that this will be the moment for me to become the "mover and shaker" that i'm meant to be.


Last night, 2am, i had a vision for a multi disciplinary art project.

3am, more ideas. Had to fumble around to find post it notes in the dark.

4am, got up and emptied my head. It felt good. So very good.

For once, i have a sense of purpose and direction. Lucid and aware, the fog has lifted just in time to ring in the new year.


Spent the weekend with E and mom in Vermont. It was truly lovely. We shopped until we almost dropped and feasted on taste bud quivering French cuisine. The drive back, in the dark, slippery roads and blowing snow, we laughed and sang, grooving to the bee gees. Our little family.

So to now shut down for the last night of 2009, the decade steeped in crap but at the same time graciously spotted with glorious glory, i wish you all a wonderful New Year's celebration, and may this new decade be filled with happiness, health and the "big break" we are all waiting for.

I know it's out there.

In with the new, out with the old!

I can't see out of this foggy mess right now...

My daily om says...

December 22, 2009 Fog Coming out of a Haze When we feel muddled and unfocused, unsure of which way to turn, we say we are in a fog. Similar to when we are in a fog in nature, we may feel like we can’t see where we’re going or where we’ve come from, and we’re afraid if we move too quickly we might run into something hidden in the mists that seem to surround us. Being in a fog necessarily slows us down by limiting our visibility. The best choice may be to pull over and wait for the murkiness to clear. If we move at all, we must go slowly, feeling our way and keeping our eyes open for shapes emerging from the haze, perhaps relying on the taillights of someone in front of us as we make our way along the road. By and large, most of us prefer to be able to see where we are going and move steadfastly in that direction, but there are gifts that come from being in a fog. Sometimes it takes an obstacle like fog to get us to stop and be still in the moment, doing nothing. In this moment of involuntary inactivity, we may look within and find that the source of our fogginess is inside us; it could be some emotional issue that needs tending before we can safely go full steam ahead. Being in a fog reminds us that when we cannot see outside ourselves, we can always make progress by looking within. Then again, the fog may simply be teaching us important lessons about how to continue moving forward with extreme caution, harnessing our attention, watching closely for new information, and being ready to stop on a dime. We cannot predict when a fog will come, nor can we know for certain when it will lift, but we can center ourselves in the haze and wait for guidance. We may find it inside ourselves or in a pair of barely visible taillights just ahead. Whether we follow the lights out of the fog, wait for a gentle breeze to lift it, or allow the sun to burn it away, we can rest certain that one way or another, we will move forward with clarity once again.

we will move forward with clarity once again.




indeed we will...

what i am, what i am not

Today, I feel fragile and worn.

Despite the wonderful news that I was 3rd place winner at the Art Festival in the Ukraine. Pretty damn impressive for something that i was not even going to enter.

They found me.
They liked my stuff.

I am a photographer.


Got another email from an arts company in NYC. They seem like a "vanity agent" - pay us 1000$ and we will put you in our arts magazine. I wrote to Bob in NYC. He's the man in the know and i know he has my back. I will wait on his advice before moving in on this offer.

I am not (that) gullible.

While posting my last batch of images on flickr, i found myself editing each shot. Don't put this one, it's not flattering. Don't add that one, your stomach looks like a soggy bunched up sheet of flesh. This one is too dark, too much grain and the blacks look muddy. Judgment is my biggest enemy.

I am a perfectionist.

A link from a fellow flickr self portrait artist threw the monkey wrench in my "best laid plans for accepting myself". It's 3am and still not sleepy. More wired than anything else, and when i'm wired, the buzzards swoop down into my grey matter and pluck at the veins that feed blood to my brain.

I'm not accepting sleep as an option.

E said that this latest series is one of my best. Sam on flickr also said the same thing: "You have reached a pinnacle of sort with your art". Wow. That is very cool. I am very happy.

I am learning to accept compliments.

So best laid plans led astray. Best intentions run amok. Self image out the window. The girl must not be more than 21. Her body, svelte, skin taut across her flat belly and perky breasts. No droop or stretch here. She was interviewed in a magazine that is an erotica online one. Very tasteful, but catering and by the under 30 group. Mostly women in this issue. And she is one of them. Her photographs are pretty. Moody lighting, sensual poses and come hither expressions. I'm jealous of her beauty, her youth, her ability to have the self confidence to show herself so boldly. What happened to me?

I am not jealous.

I am lying to myself.

What happened? Life happened. Cancer happened. Death happened. Mental illness happened. Why would a gallery owner in the heart of the New York City gallery district believe so completely in my self portraits? Because they are real. Not plastic, not fake, not perfectly staged. This must be my mantra. Realization of what the most important things in life are. I longed to be in his gallery, and two years ago, i marched on in with nothing but my big city set of balls and a few prints. That was good.

I am learning to take what is important and make that more important than the unimportant stuff.

I will not stop photographing myself.

I will become more forgiving of myself.

I will unconditionally love myself as i am.

I will not let them get me down.

what i am and what i am not
what i will and will not do




...

Perhaps...

The pain is excurciating.
If i didn't know any better, i would say that i was absolutely certain that something inside of my head, growing, expanding, squeezing out my brain, soon to spill out of the corners of my eyes, pour through from my nostrils, and push through my ears - will evolve from a rolling rumble into a trembling scream.

Perhaps it is this:

Perhaps for some people, in order to first find their passion they need to suffer, just to uncover what is of prime importance, and then the suffering itself can create emotional energy i.e. passion, which then fuels their work. 
~ Margot Hattingh


After a long talk with sis, sister of sis, and mr. fyst, i discovered that within myself stands a confused little girl, wanting everything in the candy store but not enough money to buy it all...


Or can i put it all on a store credit?


There is an inner torment. Twitches of regret for not having moved forward in leaps and bounds from many yesterdays. Disappointment in not having moved from wanting to doing. Yes, i have accomplished a lot in the past few years, but am i happy? Why not? Will i ever be?


Art is indeed suffering. The evidence is in my latest series of images. But i need to transcend that. I need to make my art something profitable. Something viable. At the same time, i need to stay true to the very essence that makes my work different from everybody around me. Unique from everybody else who wants to be a photographer, filmmaker, a writer. I know it's there inside of me somewhere.


As I stumble around like a newborn calf, rubber legs and wet from the womb, my eyes slowly adjust to the new feelings inside of me. One apprehensive step in front of the other turns into a trot, then soon, a gallop. Body free, mind at ease, the future - an open meadow.


Right now, the ground is moist from the morning humidity of uncertainty.
Eyes slowly adjusting to the possibilities of tomorrow, and learning not to fear today.

December 8, 2009


My Daily Om


Spot on - as usual...




The Impossible Dream

Right in Front of You



When it comes to the things we want, there always seems to be an endless list. No matter how many times we get something off that list, we add new things to replace it. In life, this drama of wanting and getting and wanting is all part of the dance. The things we want motivate us to get up and get them.

And yet, at the same time, we can torment ourselves with our wanting, especially when we want something we can’t have or can’t find. It is in cases like these that it might be fruitful to entertain the idea that maybe what you really want is right in front of you. Maybe you are using this desire you can’t fulfill to distract you from truly engaging the blessings you already have. It may seem like that doesn’t make sense, yet we do it all the time. It may be easier to see in other people than to see it in ourselves. We have all heard our friends wishing they were more this or less that, and looking at them we see clearly that they are everything they are wishing they were. We know people who have wonderful partners and yet envy you yours. We wish we could give these people a look at their situations from our perspective so that they could see that what they want really is right in front of them.

It’s not too far-fetched to consider that we might be victims of the same folly. It can be scary to have what we want. We get caught up in the chase and forget to enjoy the beauty right in front of us—like a child who never wants the toy she has in her hand but always the one just out of her reach. Take a moment today to consider the many things you are holding in the palm of your hand and how you might best play with them

it's all about you...

it's all about you isn't it?

It always comes to you doesn't it?

disappointment

hands thrown up in the air for this one...

here are a million reasons why somebody does or does not do anything. how we choose to interpret things is entirely of our own doing.

i'm sick as a dog. now you know that.

Now I know that it's too much to ask for anything, unless it's about you.

and you're sick as a dog.

It's all about you isn't it. Always will and always will be.

And I have my own reasons why i may or may not care anymore.  And I have my own reasons why i may or may not reply to this email and how you chose to interpret this is up to you...

(note to self - No reply, no comment...)

but you knew that...

Mr. Fyst, you were right...

Mr. Arty, you were right. The painter man was spooked out by death. Wrote me a long email explaining what happened with his mother when he was small - came close to the big D word. Flipped him out. Then one of his best friend's sister died. He loved them to bits, but still could not bring himself to the funeral. Says he still beats himself up for it, has tried to change his character but can't seem to do it. Change his attitude that is.

Up until my grandmother died last March, it had been a long time in between deaths. The last one being my best friend who offed himself in a hotel room. I wept for days, then off and on for weeks, then off and on for months. Even to this day, I still shed a tear.

I mourn the loss of one of the best friends I have ever had, mourn the loss of the possibilities for him, the lives he could have touched. The world would have been a better place with him still in it, but on the flip side, when he was on this earth, so many people were touched by his life, love and laughter, and i was one of the privileged.


I remember seeing his ashes in a beautiful burgundy box on the altar of a small chapel. Our gang sat around it - 5 on either side. His cegep family, and his blood family. Back then, the idea of cremation freaked me out; but today, my grandmother's ashes is right beside our wedding picture. She could not make it in person, but at least she was there in spirit. Technically, she is here in person, but in a different and smaller more compact version...

So that closed door is now re-opened. Happy about that, but i tread with caution. I have begun to guard myself, but begun to question wether i must now lower my expectations of my friends and their behavior and what i will accept as "acceptable behavior".

Still now word from She. Not even a  "well, bitch, if that's the way you feel, fuck you", which is what i expected. At at least that. Latest post on fb says that she's going on vacation. Posted on somebody else's post that "I'm sick too and nobody is taking care of me!"

well girl, you made your bed, now lie in it...

but it still hurts, and it hurts my attitude towards my art and myself.

I looked at my latest frame series. Not a lot of activity on it. Received one private message that said it was brilliant - and i had reached a new pinnacle in my creativity.

Really?

why does it feel like i am rotting inside? Why do i feel as if I am slipping away?

but anyway.
The hurt will eventually turn to annoyance, and from that, minor irritation. There will be a scab, but to heal entirely, i must avoid picking at it. That is why i have removed her from my news feed. Removed all her old emails from my inbox, put them into a folder called: "I don't care anymore".

Same with my father. E and i are drafting the final email. His attention span is the size of a pin head, so being concise is key. Looking for a one two punch. Then walking away from the fight for good.

It's windy outside, snow rolling by like ice capped waves. Snow. That used to equal skiing. Father and daughter time on the slopes. And that was lots of fun. But in order to move on, i must forge new memories, new experiences.

one step at a time. One hill at a time.

So mr. Fyst - you were right, as I knew you would be. I felt the same way and knew that A was a kind heart, yet tormented soul, but for the others? Well, they have their own demons to wrestle with, but there is a difference between being self centered and centering the self.

onward and upward. On the page and onto the screen our words will go.

the final emails

so i did it.
Sent out my final emails to all three people in question.
It's 3am and i'm winding down. Finally.


went to mom's for an after dinner visit. My new galpal called and left me a message, wanted to know how things went.

I mean, really? How wonderful is that?
she called just because she wanted to let me know that she was there if i needed her. 

Well, i called, gave her the good news and told her that the feeling was mutual.
When I'm a friend, there are no conditions - except that you respect me because i respect you.

i was so moved that i was moved to write my email to my ex galpal to ask why she could not so much as send me a little text message. 3 little words - are you okay?

it was not brain surgery...


Long email to (ex?)girlfriend.

Done.

Asked questions - why? But honestly, I don't think i'll get any answers that I will like, but tried my best to not sound preachy, or accusatory (but when somebody does not call to know how your mother is in the light of our situation, how can you not accuse them of being insensitive?)

that was a huge endeavor, lots of weeping and anger, but it's all out now.


Worked on dad's email. Surprisingly enough, did not blubber through that one, but was more focused and determined to get my point across logically and in a concise and clear manner.  I guess there were no waves of tears because this ending was a long time coming. The disappointment had been forming a callus over the sore for decades. His reaction to the whole wedding debacle was outrageous. But i had to ask him the last question: do you want me in your life or not?

so that was sent to e for revisions in the morning.

3:12am

urgh. Need sleep. Will stop after this next paragraph...

and last but not least - an email to my other friend A. Told him that i wasn't attacking him (as many of us artsies so often feel when people confront us) but i was just disappointed and wanted to know why he didn't even call. not even a stupid facebook poke (i despise those things!!) and told him that i would go to the moon and back if he asked me, and even if he didn't but thought about it and wanted to, i would still go.

but that is me, and that was my email. With this one, i made sure that i left the lines of communication open and friendly (albeit disappointed, but still friendly).


done...

sent one last shout out to B in nyc. He's so cool. Told him that my mom was NED, and that i didn't want to leave him hanging without news (because my last email which i sent on Thursday was pretty bleak and despondent, on the verge of some kind of news, but at that point, seemed bleak, even though, in reality, now we know, that it wasn't).

And that was a good closing to my marathon email session. Ending off on a good note. Told him that i was so happy that i still had my little connection to nyc through him and the gang at the gallery.

At least someone cared, and that's what matters.
That there was someone.


my bed cares too, and i'm off to embrace it.

door closed, window open

a day after the roller-coaster ride.
Shit. I am so completely exhausted. I was so exhausted last night that i could not sleep. And when I did finally manage to keep my mind and eyes from ricocheting off the walls and inside my head, whatever brief somnambulist respite was quickly transformed into a rabid marching band of chaos and cacophony.

I woke up, heaving and sobbing - sleep sobbing perhaps? it was strange. I had been crying in my dream, but it seemed as if the tear ducts had shut down and only the lungs and nervous system were in high sorrow/anger gear. Of course, what was going on was a direct reflexion on what i had been feeling all day - a sense of utter and sheer disappointment about the behavior of two so called "friends" who showed absolutely no sign of compassion or interest in my or most important of all, my mom's situation/diagnosis. Nothing. No phone call, no email. No signs of life. They were too busy gazing into their own butt holes to notice that the world around had kept on spinning.

I had been dumped - a series of "fuck yous" over the past 3 months. First, my head shrinker, who mysteriously fell into oblivion after my desperate plea for help email. He did, in fact, receive my phone messages because he called my pharmacy for a  new prescription two weeks ago. Perhaps a phone call to me was too complicated because it involved being human and actually listening to me and not giving medical information to a voice recognition automated telephone computer system...

then the other girl i met from the climate change thing. We got along famously, and I was all excited that i had a new friend (how girly kiddy is that?), soon to be followed by a "flush and dash" email. "You're really nice, but you have too much shit going on in your life right now that I can't and don't want to handle."

But all things considered, and in the light of what has happened with all the other "So called friends who care" in my life, that was an act of honesty that i really did appreciate. It takes guts to be honest these days, and to do so tactfully (she did apologize because she said that I "seemed like a really wonderful and fantastic person, but that the timing was all wrong..." was honorable. She does not lose brownie points for that, but rejection always hurts.

Then there was captain dad who erased my comment on fb without explanation (there really needed no explanation - actions here spoke louder than pokes) leaving me confused and deflated.

Then there was my so called friend of a million years. In retrospect, E said that all was wonderful on the friendship front when her marriage was falling apart, she miscarried several times, she was stumbling through difficult project and needed somebody's shoulder to cry on. Well, guess who exposed their broad scapula? But when she got married again, her 1st project was met with critical acclaim, she had a child and her latest project immediately began to bloom, i was only worth, at best, a three word email reply to a long one I had initiated.

A few days ago I had sent a sad email - reaching out for her support, and to be included in this "group" which, by definition, was broad in interest by definition, and asked to keep me and mom in her prayers, she replied unsympathetically and unapologetically barring me from her "club meetings" and then proceeded to flip the coin by saying: "but you can come to my other party" and "I gotta go because my child had figured out a way to use potty time to manipulate a shift in her bed time" so eloquently followed by "thumbs crossed" in relation to my mom's next day doctor's appointment.

thumbs crossed?

whatever.

But the general tone surprised, hurt and offended me.

The next day, I got nothing. No email. No Text message asking how things were going. Nada. It's not like SHE DIDN'T KNOW. She did very well, and in the past, was quite concerned about this mother and daughter duo, but I guess that compassion or concern was too much to ask at this point. Mrs. Superstar with the model husband, perfect child and stellar career on the rise.

flush and dash

then came my so called other friend whom I have done countless projects with, and have done countless favors for. I lent him my camera, which he broke into a million pieces (lens and body), has yet to pay for it, and most recently, introduced him to a new friend of mine who was instantly smitten by him and his work (rightly so, he is a mad genius) and has promised and was absolutely delighted to work with him in the future, did not get so much as a "thank you for putting me in touch with this person. I really appreciated you taking the time to put in a good word for me."

Nothing.

I was crushed. Felt like a chaperone the whole meeting. It really was supposed to be about us working as a team, but when that project fell through, my talent as a photographer and cinematographer was instantaneously dismissed and i literally faded into the woodwork as the conversation focused entirely on him.

awkward.

I had previously asked him to watermark my images when he put them on his site. He had previously agreed. But when i asked the question again that same day of our (well, HIS) meeting, he aggressively refused.

and it's not like he didn't know about my mother's appointment. I'm sorry, but not even a facebook message (which he seems to only communicate by these days). Nothing. No follow up, no fb poke. Nothing.

I was thoroughly disgusted.
There was no excuse for this. And I am considering cutting ties with all of the above. Why do i even bother to help these people out when they blindly walk all over me when on the flipside, i would shit down my own throat for them.

I'm too nice, gullible, honest, kind, weak, stupid.

but i can spend time beating myself up for my lack of spine, or i can acknowledge that i am a kind heart who cares, perhaps a little too much. But that is who I am. I have never asked for anything other than a little compassion and common courtesy.

And it seems that even that is too much to ask for from these people these days.

Dad - I have removed you as a contact from my fb account. It just hurt to much to know and not know what you were doing, and having you blatantly ignore me was more than i could handle.

that was a difficult task, but had to be done.
Next on the chopping block - ms. perfect I don't give a fuck about anybody except myself.

a short concise email - you are a bully. I have been afraid of hurting you. You are cold and don't blame your nordic ancestry for your lack of compassion and genetic disposition to be "reserved". No excuses. I was always there for you, without any restrictions. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have offered to come with you for support with your mother had you needed me. Without blinking, without wanting anything in return other than your friendship. You obviously have more important things in your life and our friendship is not one of them. You hurt me more than you know, and your blatant self centeredness in the light of somebody you "supposedly called a friend" to not even call to see what the results were is disturbingly disgusting and deeply selfish.

Have a nice life in your perfect little world.
When your world falls apart, and I'm sure it will one day, don't look for me. I won't even cross my thumbs or toes for you.

and lastly - my so called friend for the past 20 years. Yea, your life is shit, and you live at home at 40, people in the art community are trying to sabotage your career because you are the best and they don't like competition, but you know what?

Is your mother fighting cancer?

Do you have to live a gut wrenching week before her diagnosis to see whether she will live or die?

Do you have to deal with medications that are supposed to keep you from cycling out of mental control but barely keep you from killing yourself?

I didn't' think so. And what have you done for me?

Did you lend me computer/camera equipment you needed, borrowed it for two years, then gave it back to me broken?

Did you put me onto the right people with money and interest who are now falling at your feet to work with you?

I never saw that happen, not even anything remotely close to it. Well, my so called friend, a major overhaul about the definition of our friendship is on order. It's a two way street, not a one way racetrack where my back is the asphalt you burn your tire tracks into.

so shape up, wake up and realize that your friend is a true friend but who will not be trampled upon anymore. I loved and accepted you without conditions, but i need to put some game rules down. I have to look out for myself now.

Perhaps that is why I have been so sick as of late. Other people always come first. I'm always the last to help myself, if at all.

no more...

but then, a door closes and God opens up a window.

an old dear friend who i had a deep soul connection with moved down the east coast. We lost touch, but she came to my wedding. Well, we never really lost touch as the bond was always there, but on a spatial level, we were miles apart.

I emailed her a little desperate letter, telling her how much i missed her company and companionship. She emailed me back the next day, telling me the same. Welcoming me into her home any time i was nearby, and was keeping me and my mom in her prayers.

That was a blessing.

I got a phone call from a man who is now the manager of a huge 3000 sq. feet retail store affiliated with a festival I was a part of many years ago. He absolutely wants me to be a part of this year's festival and called to tell me to get my butt into gear and ship him some stuff. Without conditions. Open acceptance. Happy to know me and still hangs a (now framed) thank you card that i had sent him almost 4 years ago on his wall. "I see it everyday when i walk by".

That is a blessing.

The art festival in Morocco that invited me to show at their event, waived the 150$ per piece entry fee/promotion costs so I could still be a part of their festival. "I am an artist too, and know how difficult being an artist is. It is something i can do for you gladly. Welcome to our festival - for free!"

that was a truly a gift

and the gallery owner in NYC who believed in my art so completely, and who i was afraid I had lost contact with forever because i became sidelined with my mom and own health and did not have the time or energy to nurture that relationship replied to my email today. He came down with H1N1 flu, had been on his own personal hellish path and told me to "not be too hard" on myself and said that he was thinking about me and my mom, and that we would definitely talk soon.

a relief and a gift

and of course, the biggest one being my mom's clear diagnosis. NED. In the end, that is all that really matters. Love,  life and health of a loved one. Being surrounded by the people I love and who truly love me. E who is so incredible and supportive as a man and husband, my cousin 1000 miles away that still calls me "big HPK", and my mom. My beautiful wonderful courageous inspirational mom.

clean bill of health, new beginnings, fresh starts and an an open window.

Let the stale air out and let the sunshine in.

:-)

stepping into a new day

so she is clear.
No Evidence of Disease - or NED as we now call her.


we waited (waiting rooms are NOT for waiting...) and worried. Her worry team, me, E, Bet and mom. The doctor came around the corner in a flash, and gave us a huge smile with one of those TV talk show hosts wave "How ya doing there!?"

Could it be???
was it too good to be true?

well it was true, and it was good!

long LONG story short, he said that the scan was clear. Nothing.
He was so very happy, but nobody was more relieved than my mom, then came me, and b and e were a tie for 3rd.

we celebrated by going out to our chicken bbq hut to celebrate. Oh that comfort food is better than any booze!

And we ate, waved our sticky fingers at eachother the way the doctor did to us, laughed and cherished this new lease on life.

We are always mindful that we never know if this shit will come back or how or when, but today was a good day. Today was a good day indeed.


I have other shit to gripe about, like how to of my "supposed best friends" never called, emailed, nothing to see what the results were - and to them i say a big -
F*&K you. You have been terminated!

Life really is too short to worry and give effort to people like this.

and i removed my dad from my fb.
it was too hard knowing and not knowing what he was doing and that he (or i should say - his whore wife) was watching my every post.

out of sight - out of mind
and in my mom's case, out of body, out of life...

it was a good day indeed...

fold and hold

i'm really quite exasperated today...

maybe i hope too much, maybe i wish for things to much.

I was never really good at waiting for xmas to open presents, was always the first to peek. Became a wiz at re-taping boxes after they were open.

but today, a meeting which i had hoped would open up doors for me, opened up doors for somebody else. Which is fine actually. I'm a quite happy that i was able to help them out, but one project that we were supposed to work together on got postponed (in my mind, indefinitely), but it seems there is a much greater interest in their work instead of mine. Which in reality, one part of me is extremely excited because their work needs to see the light of day because it has been a long time coming, but on the other hand, i feel deflated, defeated and discouraged.

"oh well" i say with a smile.

Chin up, big grin, move along.

but sleeplessness is slowly chipping away at my resolve to keep at this.

And one final kick...
a friend (level of friendship now in question) had a general invite on fb, but in what seemed to be a chipper email was just a notification to say: "this meeting is only for these people involved in this kind of project. No exceptions". 

well...

okay, and how are you doing today?
Hmm, guess what? my mom will find out if this cancer is going to spread to the rest of her body on Friday and i'm slowly loosing my mind and feeling more and more isolated from the world around me and the people who (or say they) love me.

and thanks for the notification that i am not part and will absolutely not be a part of your social club...

whatever..

oh well...

I look at the photo of me and my mom in the limo on my wedding day and so desperately wish that I could turn back the hands of time to that one moment when everything was perfect, soak it all in again, because now, in retrospect, i wish I did and could have for a lot longer...

it's sad and ironic, that 5 years ago when I started this blog, my life was a play waiting to happen. Literally. So many things happened - the good overshadowed the bad. There was magic. Now there is none left.

you got one more shot universe.
if I don't get something happening soon, i am seriously throwing away my fucken camera off the tallest building in the city. No excuses this time.

and if you really fuck up, i might just follow my camera on the way down...