Friday, December 19, 2014

The Duelists

So... I'm kind of too lazy to say anything about myself or my own life, but I know enough to know that it's important to do things with regularity.  And I'm trying to be better at that, at least until my crippling anxiety and depression come back and kill it.  So I'm going to share a little secret with you. 

If you've ever been to the Renaissance faire (in this case, specifically Pennsylvania, Louisiana, or Las Vegas... is that right?), you've maybe seen these guys:




The Duelists!  The dark, smouldering one on the right is one of my very dearest friends in the world, and he's also a talented combat choreographer/designer, so you should maybe hit him up if you need some fancy fights in your life. 

You can also ogle more pictures (They're both kind of gorgeous, right?) here.



Wednesday, December 17, 2014

One more for 2014

Looks like I was doing great at updating this monster... until the Windy City Burlesque Fest kicked my ass and turned my head in hazy circles around Russell Bruner.  My June-time last cryptic post makes that pretty obvious. 

I mean, he *is* gorgeous.  And talented.  And a living, breathing, cartoon-character of a man. 

But that's all, I guess. 


Winter's always been notoriously terrible for my wallet.  I'm trying to eke one more big job out of 2014, but that probably won't happen, all things considered.  I'm also trying to remind myself constantly that everyone starts somewhere.  Even the people who shoot straight off into the stratosphere.  Even Russell.

I have this thing where I like to read the beginnings of blogs.  I follow the "older posts" links all the way back to the beginning, when the people who run them posted once every three months about stupid things like a decent photo of their dog, or the interesting new TV show.  I have to remind myself that it's ok to do those things, to talk about whatever you've got to talk about, until you've got some focused, interesting things to talk about.

Like... I could spend the next year talking about how stupid hot Mark Harmon was way back at the beginning of NCIS, and you'd know what I've been spending all my time doing.  Eventually, I might convince you that I'm some sort of expert on the subject, but I doubt it.  I'm just a strange showgirl-photographer with a wicked jonesing for old men, and clinical depression.

The truth is, I start blogging again when my bank balance hits zero.  I write words into the ether in the hopes that someone might actually read them, and, even more unlikely, someone might want to help me save myself.