Rock Haus

celluloid lust

OK, so yeah there are probably a few of you out there rolling your eyes and remarking to yourselves "jesus lis, I saw this picture when you first took it 12 years ago - I'm over it - lets move on, shall we?"

I still love this picture. I still don't know why.

Anyway - didn't really  shoot a lot this week but found a couple of CD's I had made when I was padding my salary at Helix through the clever use of pilfered film scanning (and processing, and enlargements, and film and..ok I'll say it - I didn't pay for fuck all while I worked there). So I uploaded a bunch more old stuff, which has now been grouped together in a set called, creatively, "Old Stuff". If you're the least bit interested, you can see it here.

Anyway, this got me to thinking and now reason #3 for wanting a job, right after "No longer wishing to live hand to mouth like an animal" and "health insurance before I completely rot from the inside out" is  I WANT TO BE ABLE TO AFFORD TO SHOOT FILM AGAIN. I love my digital but there is a certain intangible quality you get with film that doesn't exist in digital, and all the processing and photoshopping in the world won't change that. I also want to get back to doing cross processing, cause it's cool...unfortunately for that you have to go to pro labs, and pay pro lab prices, and barring my finding someone who works at Gamma who is willing to exchange processing for sexual favours, that's gonna get pricey. I also would like to utilize one of the several facilities around the city that rent black and white darkroom time by the hour - I do love the smell of fixer in the morning.

I also uploaded pics from last years Hunnert Car Pileup, shot on film, scanned to CD, tarted up digitally....what can I say - I want it all...

mercy buckets

Thank you John for choosing to call me out of the blue last night, it was nice to talk to someone with whom my ties are so far reaching...it's weird to think that so many of my friends I met when we were kids, 18, 19, 20 years old, and now we're all pushing 40. I met John in about 89/90, when he moved in with my downstairs neighbor Jeff. Jeff was a  manipulative chode (Holding the record in my book for most crassly ineffective sexual overture: "look, either I fuck, or I pass out" (guess how THAT ended??)) but John was great. A bit of a wild child back in the day, he's grown up to be a lovely and responsible home ownin', lovely wife havin' adult, but he's still cool - that isn't always the way. I still occasionally wear the pendant he and both of the Pauls presented me with the day I was pronounced the official goddess of the Prophet Society (this may also be the day he was scolded by MICA security for attempting to scale the side of the Main building), I also have the negatives of  the rather bawdy  related pictures taken in my kitchen  that afternoon (don't ask).

It's nice to know that even if you don't communicate on a regular basis, that you can pick up the phone and it call falls back into place, like you just saw each other the other day. Yesterday was a shitty day, and it was a lift I needed, so again, thanks.

Screaming into the void.

You know when you're so upset, that all you can really do is go back and forth, not remembering from one second to the next what the hell you were doing?

Yeah.

I know so many wonderful people, and I know of many more people, who care about others, and do good...I also knew that there were bad people, self centered pieces of human excrement that really don't deserve their daily supply of oxygen. I've generally managed to keep these people out of my bubble.

They just got a little closer.

To the two cowardly fuckers in Oak Park who saw fit to attack a guy who wanted nothing more than to take his dog out for a walk, with baseball bats no less! You didn't even rob him - what the hell was the reason for this? Now one of my best friends husbands is in ICU getting a plate screwed into his face. I don't know what you think entitles you to this sort of behaviour, but so far as I'm concerned, you forefitted all your rights as humans the second you took your first swing. I hope what ever your personal concept of hell is, it finds you, and barring that, a bullet in your fucking head will do nicely.

Interview 1

My fashion tip for the day: Don't buy cheap pantyhose.

Today I had an interview.. No matter how much I believe another Administrative job will crush my soul and destroy my will to live, I am all about putting forth my best effort. Ergo, I wear pantyhose (or, the devils bondage trousers, if you prefer) since NOT wearing pantyhose with a suit looks tacky...I love me some black tights, but pantyhose - ugh...unfortunately, my job search can't be postponed until black tights season (roll on fall!).. My point is, generally I will usually only wear a pair of these misery makers ONCE, so I hate to spend a lot of money on them...so I bought Walgreens brand.

This was my first mistake.

I was able to get past the peculiar "skin" colour, and the unpleasant scratchy texture, but as I headed over to the train, the trouble started.  The package said they would fit someone up to 6 ft 2, and 200 lbs...I am not quite 6ft 2, and despite my best efforts in my non-smoking life, have not yet managed to tip the 200lb mark, but I do have freakishly long legs, so I stilll had to give them a good tug to get them up all the way.

That was my second mistake.

On the way to the train, I felt that tickly sensation that can only be a run, shooting down the back of my thigh...no big, It didn't extend past the knee, and it's not gonna show THAT much on nude hose. I get on the train and I'm on my way. Upon exiting the train I am running late, even after allowing an entire hour to get from the Damen stop to the Quincy stop (which for the uninitiated to Chicago's transit system, really shouldn't take more than 35 minutes, at the most) so I knew I'd have to run for it...imagine if you will, the feeling of skittering along South Wacker Drive, in astonishingly uncomfortable shoes, all the while, feeling as though someone is slowly pulling down your knickers...Yeah, like that. Strangely, the waistband remained in place. The crotch however, an entirely different story. Instead of staying  clad snugly around my swimsuit area, it migrated to somewhere between that region and my knees, leaving the part of my thighs that need the controlling coverage of pantyhose the most*, exposed, and chafing at  a furious pace.

So you can imagine how interview-ready I was when I got there.

Upon entering the office my brain screamed a resounding "Aw HELL no". Lit by flourescent lighting only surpassed in its hatefulness by the dressing rooms at Filene's Basement, it was bereft of any kind of adornment - not a plant, not a piece of crappy corporate art, not even an insipid inspirational poster...now I know this really shouldn't matter, but to me, this speaks volumes of an office culture with which I will not mesh...I forged ahead with the interview, which I had been led to believe was for the position of Administrative Assistant, but ultimately, revealed itself to in fact be for the position of Receptionist, and *lackey* to the Administrative Assistant...I smiled, I gave a firm handshake, I made enough eye contact to appear engaged without coming off as creepy or serial-killery...I treated it as a dress rehersal and did my best. Hopefully next time I'll be interviewing for a job I actually want...in more cooperative legwear.

*I get many compliments on my legs, but that is because I know their limits, so nobody ever sees the part that trembles like frightened jello, even in the most gentle breeze.

luck be a lady this weekend...

Here's hoping netflix is on my side this weekend - with yesterday being the DVD release date for season 2 of House, and (AND!!) seasons 1 and 2 of A Bit of Fry and Laurie in addition to disc 3 of Jeeves and Wooster Saturday and Sunday could be a nonstop orgy of Hugh Laurie saturated Anglophilic joy....

I'm a sad dork, I know, but what with being in the grips of complete and total poverty, in hand with a laundry list of things I really need to do, that I *meant* to do a couple of weeks ago but instead decided to have a complete and total mental breakdown and spent all my free time blubbing like a big baby, I won't be out much this weekend, so quality entertainment will be required.

I'm working on a couple of things that could be quite exciting, should they actually come to fruition. I'm also working on getting a job, any job, I don't care, if I can make even a little more money than I am now, re-claim my evenings, and get health insurance, that will make me happy - at least in the short term...then I can figure out the next step...it's hard to concentrate on figuring out exactly what your dreams are how to make them come true when constantly wondering "will my phone get turned off today? can I really live on Ramen or will I in fact die from sodium poisoning three days in? Might I actually have the worst credit report in the world? what happens when Napoleon finally develops something horribly wrong with her and needs to go to the vet? Will I have it in me to just hit her with a brick?? Is that a brain aneurysm, or do I just have a caffeine headache???"

In case you ever wondered why I don't sleep well, now you know.

A fourty for my homie

Two years today, I still miss my fuzzy boy.

Wrap up

Know that you were spared a silly drunken post last night...all I really have to say on the matter is that in the wake of stopping smoking, and consequently cutting back a LOT in the boozy drinking department, my tolerance has gone completely to hell, and last night after a voddie and soda, 3 beers, and 3 shots, I was WAAAYYYY-STED. However, considering that today I woke up alone, my knickers intact, no broken bones, no record of inapropriate late night phone calls/texts,  and far more money left in my wallet than I would have expected (thank you Calvin, musician, sexy bitch, and beer slinger extraordinaire) I'd say I had a successfull evening.

Today, when I sprang from bed at the asscrack of I-feel-like-complete-arse-thirty, I went and met Miss Jessica for a restorative coffee at the Grind, and then we went to the Davis for a matinee of Little Miss Sunshine. Loved it, go see this movie, the whole thing is great but the end is priceless.

Didn't do much else this weekend, watched a few other movies, Kiss Kiss Bang Bang, Brick, and Living in Oblivion, all really good, also revisited an old favourite, Still Crazy

In other news - after trying and trying to forget that it was on sale right next door at CVS, I finally succumbed to temptation - holy effing shit this stuff is amazing...seriously. Damn.

3 MONTHS, BITCHES!

This may actually be the longest I've gone without a ciggiebutt in 20 years.

That is all.

World, meet Fiona, Fiona, meet world...

Today I had the honour of meeting the newly minted product of Mr. and Mrs. Kate, on her first trip out into the world that didn't involve a doctors office. Isn't she cute?

thoughts?

So I *may* have the opportunity to participate in one of them there fancy arty gallery thingies. Bitch of it is, this immediately led to a loathing of every picture I've ever taken (well, except this one of Cammille, I quite like this one...) Anyone have any thoughts on what you'd pick to show if you were me? Just to note, the old stuff really not eligible since most of it was shot on a 2mp digital camera and I suspect they might want prints bigger than 4X6...I have a few ideas on what I want to use but I'm interested in what others have to say on the matter.