Mo' photos, yo.

It occurs to me, with my history with money -- my folks' divorce was probably first and foremost caused by disagreements about cash -- that if I had a job where the money was so plentiful, and all I had to do was work a little harder to get a hundred grand a year or something, that writing, photography, all that would go to the wayside. I get obsessed, easily, especially about money. Fear of not having it's so deep in me that I can't possibly pretend things are otherwise.

I'm not so upset about losing that job, I know things work out the way they're supposed to, so I honestly can't fault not getting that. I know I say I'd write more with a job like that, but deep down inside, I know money's a powerful lure. And I know that, five years down the line, I'd be devastated with regret for blowing my momentum. I think I'm on a roll, writing-wise, and I need to keep the ball in the game. No, it's not paying the rent, or even groceries. It was, for a bit, then I stopped trying to sell it. I don't want to be published by The Little People. I want a syndicated column. I'm gonna screw up the courage over the next couple months to try and go after a particular paper here in town.

I'm getting more confident about writing, and now I need to find an angle to sell myself on. I'm confident I can do that, it's a matter of taking the time and getting it right. In the meantime, Monday and Tuesday are gonna be my Getting Shit Straight days. Cleaning up the pad, getting out a few resumes.

There's a world-wide magazine here in Van looking for a copy editor. I'm gonna get them a resume Friday. My expectations of getting the job? Nil, nearly. But you don't know if you don't try, and my heart ain't gonna break if I get a no, but if I get a yes, hey, life's coming up roses. Why the hell not?

As fine as I am about it all, I'm a little disheartened this morning, and I'm doing a few things to brighten myself up. It's sunny, so I got up and braved the near-zero temps for a nice ride. Now, I'm heading to work, but I'll take the long way, stop at the beach, in the hopes of a rare sunny photo of the snow-covered mountains with a low, low snowline, looming tall over the city.

Shots from the morning:


I call this the hanging tree. My mom always sang an old folk song, and she had this gorgeous voice and when she sang it, it was hauntingly beautiful, "Tom Dooley." The lyrics went, "Hang down your head, Tom Dooley, hang down your head and cry -- hang down your head, Tom Dooley, poor boy, you're bound to die." I know, morose, but I loved it when she sang that song. So, the tree made me think of her this morning. Heh. And I've been singing that song ever since.


This is a shithole about a half block from my place, the only homes like this in our area are side by side. GayBoy and I have had a couple freaky incidents at night walking past here, when a window swings open, or some shit like that. Looks cool in the sun, though.


I like this one, a gnarly tree on the river at dawn, that's all it is.


And a bench, by the gnarly tree. :)