insomnia reaching machinist proportions
I keep looking at pictures and getting sad all over again because I've been robbed of the ability to continue. There are so many things to capture and hold, and without my camera I'm just another pale, transitional being lacking in permanence and grasping at the slippery images skating across my consciousness. People who walk in through a door thrown open for them and walk out with a person's livelihood are scum. Fucking scum. And I mean that in every applicable situation.
I'm taking a nap/this building depresses me.
FIN. 3:34 p.m., Wednesday, Apr. 12, 2006