countessian

Wait, that’s not Russian at all. What is that?

…

Dear Serbia. Здраво. Драго ми је. Sorry for not instantly recognising your language. Опростите. I could, however, read quite a bit of your Wikipedia. I love owls. Хвала.

I love this band with a passion.

Sweaty nudity. Yummy pizza. Rainy Pomona. I was still on Vicodin. It was a good day.

Another one for Utata’s Iron Photographer challenge.

It initially threw me into something of a frenzy, because the green-eyed monster’s envy rather than jealousy, right?

But Shakespeare probably came up with the whole green-eyed thing in the first place with “O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on” and that’s good enough for me.

For some unfathomable reason, I was filled with delight as my mouth filled rapidly with blood.

(I had all my wisdom teeth out. I’m all healed up now, and getting back to work. Did the craziest portrait shoot ever the other night. This week is HEALTH, Animal Collective and the 100s Show at Sugar. Hurray!)

Speaking of the olden days when I used to take pictures of Los Angeles, I have a new Etsy banner…

Santa Monica Pier a long while ago when I was just a pre-digital little ‘un and still took pictures of LA.

Aww.

But that’s OK. I’m going to marry up.

I’m serious; I might not be beautiful but I’m interesting, yeah?

Yeah?

I read Russian fairytales, very slowly, for fun and a vague sense of self improvement.

(Mystery Jets last night at Spaceland for Club NME were really fun, and might even’ve conquered my hatred of shooting at there. Pictures soon.)

I really like shooting all these bands, and I’m getting better at shooting at the black hole of darkness better known as the Echoplex.

(Shot for Prefix.)