-{ redgeek.net }-

Ok, a couple months ago I queried thusly:

_ I remember being told as a child that most people could keep track of up to seven different ‘things’ at once. Now, recent research suggests four, at least if they’re trying to integrate the four into a relationship. I’d be interested to see some research as to if the previous notion of ‘seven’ is at all accurate, and if so, if some of that mental storage in the ‘seven’ case is being repurposed for relationship processing in the ‘four’ case._

Can we really can we make time/space tradeoffs in our brain? Does keeping track of seven independent (or minimally dependent) items exhaust our on-core registers, and if we want to establish a non-trivial relationship between the up to four of the items that was not known before, do we ‘trade’ three of the registers for processing cycles, or do we just lose the ability to address three of the registers? Most of the research I’ve read suggest our short term ‘working set’ of memory a nd analysis is extremely fluid in it’s addressing of functions and storage, but that the array of functions/storage is quite large (hence activation of different areas of the brain for different exercises.) This naturally leads me to two questions:

1. _How do we increase our mental addressing space? (So we can address more analytical and and memory functions at once) _
2. _How can we apply this concept to microprocessor design? (To create more flexible , lower-power microprocessors) _

Now, I read this:

_ Working memory is the brain’s short-term information storage system. It’s a workbench for solving mental problems. For example if you calculate 73 - 6 + 7, your working memory will store the intermediate steps necessary to work out the answer. And the amount of information that the working memory can hold is strongly related to general intelligence._

_A team led by Torkel Klingberg at the Karolinska Institute in Stockholm, Sweden, has found signs that the neural systems that underlie working memory may grow in response to training. Using functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) brain scans, they measured the brain activity of adults before and after a working-memory training programme, which involved tasks such as memorising the positions of a series of dots on a grid. After five weeks of training, their brain activity had increased in the regions associated with this type of memory (Nature Neuroscience, vol 7, p 75). _

Sweet, maybe I was on the right track.

Then the article followed up later with this:

_ Actors [
] attach emotional meaning to what they say. We always remember highly emotional moments better than less emotionally loaded ones. Professional actors also seem to link words with movement, remembering action-accompanied lines significantly better than those delivered while static, even months after a show has closed. _

Which is interesting because I just sent a link (to a different article) to my Sensei, and article that suggested that gestures served to help trigger memory and vocabulary, as opposed to just expressing emotion or expository direction. Where’s the connection to martial arts? Well, you know all those little finger-movements you see ninjas do in the movies? These are kuji-in, adapted from Buddhism, otherwise known as mudra. I believe such physical movements can serve to trigger not just conscious memory of words/names/text/etc, but can trigger baser emotion, attitudes, or personality shifts, if you encode them as such. It’s a feedback loop.

Now, on to the next - everyone who knows me, including former bosses who wanted me to stay up all night to get some project done - knows that I’ve always said things are hard when you’re tired (common knowledge). But let’s get a neuro-scientist to throw down $0.02:

_ “If you have been awake for 21 hours straight, your abilities are equivalent to someone who is legally drunk,” says Sean Drummond from the University of California, San Diego. And you don’t need to pull an all-nighter to suffer the effects: two or three late nights and early mornings on the trot have the same effect. [
] Sleep is when your brain processes new memories, practises and hones new skills - and even solves problems. Say you’re trying to master a new video game. Instead of grinding away into the small hours, you would be better off playing for a couple of hours, then going to bed. While you are asleep your brain will reactivate the circuits it was using as you learned the game, rehearse them, and then shunt the new memories into long-term storage. When you wake up, hey presto! You will be a better player. _

So, let’s go back to this mind-body feedback loop again, to those who think that 24/7 immersion in one thing is the best way to get things done:

_ There’s another reason why your brain loves physical exercise: it promotes the growth of new brain cells. Until recently, received wisdom had it that we are born with a full complement of neurons and produce no new ones during our lifetime. Fred Gage from the Salk Institute in La Jolla, California, busted that myth in 2000 when he showed that even adults can grow new brain cells. He also found that exercise is one of the best ways to achieve this. [
] And the effect works both ways. Just as physical exercise can boost the brain, mental exercise can boost the body. In 2001, researchers at the Cleveland Clinic Foundation in Ohio asked volunteers to spend just 15 minutes a day thinking about exercising their biceps. After 12 weeks, their arms were 13 per cent stronger. _

Jumping again, let’s hit up Ninpo (and Taoist internal arts) again:

_ Neurofeedback grew out of biofeedback therapy, popular in the 1960s. It works by showing people a real-time measure of some seemingly uncontrollable aspect of their physiology - heart rate, say - and encouraging them to try and change it. Astonishingly, many patients found that they could, though only rarely could they describe how they did it._

_More recently, this technique has been applied to the brain - specifically to brain wave activity measured by an electroencephalogram, or EEG. The first attempts were aimed at boosting the size of the alpha wave, which crescendos when we are calm and focused. In one experiment, researchers linked the speed of a car in a computer game to the size of the alpha wave. They then asked subjects to make the car go faster using only their minds. Many managed to do so, and seemed to become more alert and focused as a result. _

This is Ninpo. Control yourself body and mind to acheive your goals. This is Taoism. Control yourself, until control is no longer required, to adapt and exists without conflict. As Uncle David said to me in a dream a few weeks ago, “It’s easy if you focus.”

Wow, hell of a weekend. I found some old photos up from the weekend of A-’s first thesis reading.

Next up, we have drunken snapshots from the 10 Year Reunion after-party. (Who the hell holds a reunion in Phoenix in May? It was 110 degrees, and the reunion was on outside patio of a restaurant. Everyone just sat and sweat.) It was interesting, I got to see some people I wasn’t expecting that I was pleased to see, but there was also a fair amount of miscellaneous “so what/where/who do you do now?” that was utter drudgery. Occasionally, I just made up stories. Ninety percent of the married people were overweight and/or eating for two, with photos of previously produced snot machines at the ready. Probably half the singles were overweight and somewhat bitter looking; it was completely cliched. Of course not everyone was doing the Bundy-tango, but quite a few were.

At one point, they passed out a trivia questionaire with things like “What are the first six words of our fight song?” (No one knew we had a fight song). We were sitting around trying to figure out the answer to “Who was voted the most likely to succeed?” when, after a few minutes, I realized I was voted most likely to succeed. Ah, yes, I was quite a few beers in by then. A bunch of us walked to a bar around the corner from the “reception,” which is where the photos are from. And yes, that is Trung Canidate doing a horrible karaoke rendition of some song. We stayed up drinking until 5am or so, at which point I crashed for five hours, woke, and drove hung over as hell in 112 degree heat back to SD.

On the way into Phoenix, driving around the old neighborhoods, thinking of the tour I gave A- over Christmas and all sorts of old memories, I felt the heartsink again. I didn’t lose it until the drive back, when Jonny Lang’s Breakin’ Me blared from my stereo some where near El Centro:

_ Every day I see your face I wish I’d stayed
Don’t even know what made me run away
It’s just the way I play the game

Emotional is not a word I’d use to explain myself
But now I’m down upon my knees
Baby please take me back

I don’t want to be in love but you’re makin’ me
Let me up I’ve had enough. Girl you’re breakin’ me

Here I am just half a man standing alone
Feeling like I lost my only chance
At happiness when I let you go

I don’t want to be alone thinkin’ ‘bout you girl
I got nothin’ left to hold in this lonely world

The first time my heart was ever touched
Was the day I lost your love
I can feel it in my flesh and blood
My soul can only take it so much

So there it is. Why can’t you give us one more try
You and I could find a way to live
If you let me in one more time

I know you lost your faith in me but I still believe
Can I make you understand, can I make you see
That I’m desperate for your love and it’s breakin’ me

It’s breakin’ me
_

Ok, that set me up, then Ben Harper’s Forever knocked me down: _

Not talkin’ ‘bout a year
No not three or four
I don’t want that kind of forever
In my life anymore
Forever always seems
to be around when it begins
but forever never seems
to be around when it ends
So give me your forever
Please your forever
Not a day less will do
From you

People spend so much time
Every single day
Runnin’ ‘round all over town
Givin’ their forever away
But no not me
I won’t let my forever roam
and now I hope I can find
my forever a home
So give me your forever
Please your forever
Not a day less will do
From you

Like a handless clock with numbers
An infinite of time
No not the forever found
Only in the mind
Forever always seems
to be around when things begin
but forever never seems
to be around when things end
So give me your forever
Please your forever
Not a day less will do
From you
_

I remember playing that song for A- while holding her hand, and when it was over, she looked at me with a tear welled up but not yet fallen, and she whispered, “You have it.”

At the though of that memory, I fucking lost it. I ended up driving really fast for a while, and switched to some industrial music. Loud and fast and full of static.

So, I got home, napped, processed some photos, made dinner, etc. My roommates rented “Finding Neverland,” about Barrie and Peter Pan, and I’m typing this while watching it, and I’m about to lose it again. It’s a good flick, I’m thinking about A-, it was just A-’s birthday, and A- loves Peter Pan – shit, I’m going to bed.

This, too, shall pass.

And it is. Two good days in a row, definitely feeling better. Only three people (myself, Mike, and Chris) showed up to class last night, so it was basically “self-directed study” night in the dojo.

Afterward, I went to the Prado to meet up with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while. While I would have liked to see the Retratos exhibit, (the museum usually closes before I can get down there, at least on weekdays) it was good seeing Amber again and just getting out to a new place. (Actually, I’ve been to the restaurant part of the Prado before, good food, great culture-date place to go, but this was the first time I’d hung out in the bar.) I may also be able to cajole Amber’s boyfriend into editing the novel, as apparently he’s a phenomenally good editor.

Ah, while I’m thinking about it: let me pimp out these custom cards made by a friend of mine, they are really quite wonderful.

Damn it, another inflection point. Yesterday’s rise was too short, I was expecting it to last longer. The only thing that’s going the way I expected is that the euphorias and depressions get a little more mellow each time. The decreasing sine wave of receding bi-polarism.

A-, you come back to me all too often. You’re the source of my greatest art and greatest depression. When I said, “You get past my training,” and you responded, “Someone should,” I suppose I was hoping for some recognition of leeway. I’m not the composed and articulate person with you that I am with others, you get to see the chaos inside of me, the chaos I continually train myself to allow to settle. You know more of me than my parents, or Andrew, or Rob, or Nick, or Sensei.

When I asked for one last kiss, I wanted to say, “Because our last kisses soured.” Instead, I said that we hadn’t had any good kisses last time we saw each other. There were good kisses, but they had sat out too long, they were moldy and contaminated. I wanted the bittersweet of your lips one last time, some gustatory reminder to store away with letters to old girlfriends and pictures of high school. A beautiful little ribbon to wrap up the all memories, good and bad. The words hadn’t caught up with my heart yet, so my mouth made up it’s own insufficient version.

When I unloaded on you before your graduation, I told you that I chose that moment because we’d be with others later that night and I didn’t want to involve them in us. (Unlike you, dear reader, who, if uninterested, can simply look away.) While true, I somehow felt it difficult to communicate that it was also intentional - that if you want to see my passion, if you want to know my soul, well, shit, it doesn’t always crop up at the opportune time, and right then, it was rearing it’s ugly head. At previous points in our relationship, I’d saved my thoughts and feelings for another time or place more appropriate, for some time that wouldn’t ruin an occasion for you, but now I think that may have contributed to our mis-communications. Last time I waited, it ended with a letter I thought professed how my body revolted with the thought of being without you, yet ended spawning our break up. So, last weekend, you got it unfiltered, unrefined, unorganized, and ill-timed.

I often think back to the time I asked you, “You realize, you have the power to completely destroy me?” and you acknowledged. I wonder if you think about that as well. I wonder if you thought about that before you decided to end it, and how it affected you. In the end, you followed my advice, the advice I give anyone who asks, so I have no justification for complaint: take care of yourself first, make sure you’re strong enough to help yourself before you try to help others. You did what you had to.

I think about that time I was talking to the pretty promotional girl at the bar, thinking that if in some parallel universe her and I were to fall in madly love, I would stay with you, because from the first kiss, I committed to you.

I never told you that. Let me repeat it: before our first kiss in my bedroom, I committed myself completely to you. We’d known each other for nine years already, and I told myself that this was embarking on a serious journey, not to be taken lightly, not just the prelude to a roll in the hay. I was completely off the the market. When you accepted the kiss, I signed my contract. I’ve never done that before. I did what I had to do.

One week later, we each said, “I love you.”

I’m posting this here, instead of communicating it personally, because I don’t want you to feel you have to respond. You don’t. I would love it if you chose to, but this is the shit I have to deal with, it’s not your responsibility.

And friends, if you don’t want to read this depressive tripe, then don’t. But I’m getting tired of repeating the “what happened” and “how are things now ” and “how are you holding up” discussions many times over, which I suppose is a good sign, but ultimately just serves to keep my mind focused on A-, which is unhealthy in such magnificient doses. So, when we’re hanging out, while I appreciate the concern, don’t bring up A-, or my relation to her. I’ve rolled that around in my head for a month straight, in both daylight and sleep - realize that’s over 700 hours - and if I want to bring it up, I will, but right now, I’m trying to find myself in relation to the rest of the world again, and that includes you, friends.

Something snapped today. I woke up smiling; I want to take over the fucking world. My music is entirely too loud, I’m driving too fast, and I’ve got a million things I want to do, so be with me or get out of the fucking way.

So, I’m back from A-’s gradumatation. It was an intense weekend, what with heavy discussion and crying (for both of us) and everything. I had gotten to the point where she wasn’t on my mind all the time, but now I’m back not being able to stop thinking about her again. I feel empty, like a piece of me is missing. I wonder if I’ll have to wait another six years before I meet someone who moves me like A- does (the last girl was K-, back in ‘98/’99.) I won’t let myself think of the possibility that it won’t ever happen again.

The ceremony was long and boring, as they’re supposed to be. The lighting was horrible for photos, particularly from my back row seat on the side with the large lady continually waving her hat around in front of me, but photos from the weekend are up, including a lot of crappy quick-draw off-the-hip shots, so the color and focus is off on some. I think this is my favorite, though - probably captures more how the weekend went than any other photo. I can’t say I made her graudation enjoyable, but I can say I made it memorable, although that was not my intent. I also moved some of them to the Photo Gallery, as well as adding two from SD.

Her thesis is quite possibly one of the most beatiful things I’ve ever seen. I read it with tears in my eyes on the plane ride home. I’m so proud of you, A-, I can’t even put it into words.

“J-“, the one that made me repeat her number, hasn’t called back.

One the the girls whose ad I responded to emailed back, and she seemed totally stoked to meet me, and is certainly cute. Her hotmail account is over quota and my messages bounce.

The only person I ended up knowing at the Lit Mag release party was the organizer, who I’d asked out years ago. I wasn’t expecting to know anyone, but as soon as I walked in, I recognized her. Her eyes recognized me as well, and asked, “John, right?” I smiled, “Close. Barclay.” It was awkward f rom there on out, but it was a good evening. Check out the mag, red.

Apparently I have a thing for writers: M: journalist. K: lit major. C: lit major. A: writer. Never connected the dots ‘til now. Funny thing.

A female friend wants to take me to a cowboy bar to meet different types of girls. Um, we’ll see.

Another friend wants to have a BBQ to introduce me to his girl’s friends. That sounds cool, I’m always down for a little grill action, especially since summer’s rolling around down here.

70 pages in on the second novel.

Still training, of course.

Will be out of town this weekend in Oakland for A-’s graduation.

Will be out of town next weekend in Phoenix for my 10-year high school reunion (check out those stats: 2329 students enrolled with a graduation rate of 57.8%. Hot damn, they’ve improved since I went there! Seriously.) Planning on making it a long drive, stopping frequently for photos.

I’ve never really been one to dabble. When I find something I want to do, I just go out and dive in; once the decision’s been made, I don’t look back. That said, I decided I needed to get out and meet some new girls; hell, I just need to get out, hooking up would just be a bonus, perhaps an minor impetus. Too many weeks alone, just me and my writing and photos and martial arts.

I’ve never been one to try for the one-night close – it’s happened, but I never try for it. When it does happen, I always get freaked out afterward - I mean, if I don’t even know if you get yourself checked out at the free clinic, there’s no way we’re swapping fluids, and if we did, I have to run out and get tested again, and again six months after that. I always use a condom, but still, you never know, and I’ve been safe and/or lucky so far. No need to tempt fate. Out of self-preservation, and the desire to be out of the house right now rather than in it, I’ve been going for the followup outing. That said, here’s the history of the dating scene post-“A-“:

Some martial arts buddies decide we all need to go out and get exceedingly drunk, ostensibly for my betterment, which we achieved with suprising ease and gusto. Hopping along the various bars in PB, I see D-, who I’ve met a few times before and is extraordinarily cute and fun. She’s sober, just off work, and I’m putting down my fourth Red Bull Vodka grande-style with only a small slice of Ahi in my stomach. Great combination there, you can see where this is going. I eventually give her my digits, she asks about my girlfriend, I end up giving her the medium-length version. Doh. Not a good precursor to asking her out. Stuck myself in the friend-zone on that one. Oh, well, she’s cool, so we can still hang out.

Moving on, the next day I meet T- and her friend at the coffee house, they ask me what I’m working on so industriously - the second novel - and it turns out T- is a lit major at UCSD. We talk more, eventually I have to leave. She asks for my phone number and invites me to sushi the next evening. Says she’ll call. Driving home the next day, I get a call from a number that’s blocked caller ID, but it turns out I’ve got poor coverage and can’t hear anything. After “Hello? Hello? Anyone there? Reception’s bad, please call back in a few.” No second call.

The next night, I meet S- and her friend at the bar. It was a slow night and I was just grabbing a salad and editing a passage of the novel. I catch this stunning blonde - gorgeous, tall, thin, doe-eyes, all of 23 years old - that keeps looking past the boy that’s hitting on her, toward me. I just smile and hold her gaze long enough to let her know I’ve noticed her. I wait until he gives up, give the two girls enough time to compose themselves or do whatever it is that girls do when they whisper to each other after failed, overbearing pick-up attempts, and introduce myself. She seemed genuinely pleased to meet me. I had a short conversation with S- and her friend, which was a little strange when her friend started asking why I was interested in S- and not her. I told her the truth, that S- had just caught my eye. In between exchanges with S-, the friend gave me the brief interview: what do I do, do I have my shit together, etc., and gives her cryptic blessing to her friend with “He’s what you need.” I wondered if she left off “but not what you want,” but pushed that out of my head after looking in her beautiful huge Amelie eyes. It was later than I wanted to be out, and I had already written my number down on a slice of paper, so at an opportune moment I gave it to S-, who said she’d definitely call, and left, hopefully leaving S- wanting more. S- hasn’t called.

I decide to try a different tack, and put up my first-ever personal. I chose craigslist, as it’s free, and I didn’t feel like filling out some “personal inventory survey” or something equally ridiculous. I posted a commentary on myself as seen through a combination of my last several girlfriends, hoping to be a little novel and stick out from the crowd, with a touch of humor: _

Subject: First dates rock. Let’s do two. m4w - 28

I don’t consciously change myself when I meet a girl, but I’ve noticed a disturbing trend that I’d like to discuss. When I first meet a girl, and we’re going through the courting phase, it only seems natural to talk of of common interests and go on outings that both of us will enjoy. I assume that there’s more to this girl than what I’ve seen so far, and I assume she thinks the same of me. After all, that’s why you keep dating.

For the last few years, however, I’ve fallen for girls that seem to fall for the image of me that’s present on the first, second, or fifth date. Now, I’m not trying to hide part of myself, so as a public service to all future girlfriends, try to look at these illustrations of myself, each interpreted from two angles:

1. I’ll buy you trinkets and flowers to express my love for you
2. I’ll buy you trinkets and flowers but not pay your rent

1. I will succeed in making your heart flutter and body tingle
2. I won’t succeed in making your heart flutter and body tingle all the time

1. I like to try new things, in and out of the bedroom, and I’m open to suggestions
2. I won’t pressure you into trying new things, in or out of the bedroom, but I may offer suggestions

1. I usually think before I act
2. I usually think before I act

1. I will plan a trip to Hawaii with you, and perhaps drive to Vegas on a whim
2. I won’t fly to Hawaii on a whim, even though we drove to Vegas on a whim

1. I have tons of hobbies and interests I’d love to share with you, and will try to share in yours
2. I will not give up my hobbies and interests and replace them with yours

1. I’ll always be honest, except when you ask me if some other girl is cuter than you
2. I’ll always be honest, even when you ask me some other girl is cute in general

1. I enjoy museums
2. I enjoy dive bars

1. I will talk to you about problems/issues/concerns in our relationship
2. I won’t talk to everyone else about problems/issues/concerns in our relationship

1. Sometimes, I enjoy movies and popcorn at home, even if the movie is bad
2. Sometimes, I enjoy live music and shots at the bar, even if the band is bad

1. I spend time keeping myself in descent shape
2. I spend time, keeping myself in descent shape

1. Sometimes, when I get excited, my eyes light up like a little kid
2. Sometimes, when I get excited, I also jump around like a little kid

1. I’m not concerned if guys (or girls) flirt with you, even if you flirt back, as long as the two of you don’t do it in front of me
2. I’m not concerned if guys (or girls) flirt with you, even if you flirt back, as long as the two of you don’t do anything more, especially in front of me

Now, there’s nothing wrong with the girl that wants the eternally passionate, romantic, spontaneous, completely open man who will completely engross himself in her, or vice versa, and scream it to the world. Likewise, there’s nothing wrong with the girl that wants the caring, sensible, honest, responsible man that can be happy when she’s not around and appreciate her when she is. If you meet me and you love my lust for life, realize there are times when I’ll be concerned about paying my mortgage. If you are attracted to my generosity and self-reliance, realize sometimes I might want to run into the ocean nude, just because it’s Wednesday.

I’m looking for the girl that can appreciate both.

Oh, OK, I guess if you read this far, you’re probably interested (or at least entertained), so here’s the obligatory stats: I’m 28 years old, 6 foot, 200 lbs, 20% body fat (trying to work on that), drug and disease free, blue eyes, short brown hair (almost shaved), nicely attired, employed, homeowner, computer geek by trade, martial artist, writer, and photographer by passion, and I’m almost always smiling. You: similarly multi-dimensional - intelligent, fit, exciting, funny, down-to-earth, passionate about something - all that good stuff, I suppose around six years of my own age (22-34), but it’s not like I’m commited to that. Bonus points if you ski or hike, demerits if you’re not drug and disease free.

I’d love to hear from you.

The responses were rather depressing but interesting: One girl, sweet, but generally liking a whole bunch of stuff I don’t and only a few things I do. Other women (I assume) emailing me noting that it’s an “excellent ad” but that none of them were interested, and guys sending me pictures of their cocks asking me if what I’m really looking for is hot gay sex. Uh, ok.

Moving on, I decided to try responding to some of the more interesting w4m ads. Over the next few days, I choose four, writing each introductory response individually and with care, crafting a personal message and asking thoughtful questions about each of the ladies involved, and not sending pictures of my cock. No reponses.

So, back out with the friends to the bars, again (why does everyone think bars are good places to meet people?), the word spreading around the dojo and elsewhere that people have permission to hook me up. I walk up to a table of three girls in the corner, and introduce myself to a petite sandy-blonde called S- (a different S-, but with the same name, so we’ll call here S-prime: S’.) So S’ and her friends and I talk for about 45 minutes or so, I believe reasonably successfully. I get the girls to laugh frequently, and ask questions that have more significance than “so what do you do?”, and in return they were prompting me with questions. I give due attention to her friends while still making is very clear that S’ is the reason I’m here. She’s a writer as well (WTF? Where did all these writers come from?) and accuses me of using the conversation for material in my novel. I can’t tell if she’s serious or not, she says it in a jovial tone with serious eyes. The girls are the tail end of their evening, so before they leave, I ask S’ if she’d like to go to a couple gallery openings that are happening in a couple days, but she decides not yield her number. Again, I give my number. Again, no calls.

On the same night, just after S’ leaves, my friend pulls me over to some hepster cats he’s talking with. I join in for a bit, but am pretty tired by this time. I’m out the door, behind the patio railing, when my friend steps out to the patio. I tap him, and within earshot of one of the girls, say “Hey, what’s her name again?” He answers, “J-“, taps her, and points her at me. J- is definitely hot, definitely dripping sex. I skip everything and just ask for the digits. She jots them down, illegible, and asks me to read them back to her. I have absolutely no idea what the scribbles represent, it’s tagger-text on a napkin. I could tell there’s very little chance of this going anywhere with this girl, even before I asked her name, aside from some dirty, dirty, lovin’. That’s okay, I’m not against that. I get her to translate the numbers. I suppose I’ll call her this weekend, there’s a release party for a new lit journal tomorrow, we’ll see if she can hang.

God, this is exhausting. But at least I’m out of the house.

LUE (Life, the Universe, and Everything) update: in case you haven’t heard, A- and I have split, but we still talk, and I’ll be going to Oakland for her graduation. Incidentally, that will be the first time I’ll have seen her in person since it ended. We’ll see how I do. Anyway, her thesis received wonderful reviews from the thesis board, and I’m extremely proud of her.

I’ve been doing a lot of writing myself lately, most of which morphed into a fictional chronicle of our relationship. It’s currenlty being edited by a wonderful and brilliant writer friend, and in the interim, I’ve begun a second book, this one planned and plotted in advance. The first novella will be self-published via a local print-on-demand press, but I’m not sure of the timeline, so stay tuned. I suppose it depends on how much of it I have to re-work. I have no idea what I’m going to do with the second novel.

I also dug out my camera gear again (and upgraded the body), so I’m wandering around taking photographs as well. Quite possibly, there will be a third book comprised of short stories accompanying selected photographs. Also, if anyone’s interested, I’m considering trying my hand at modeled photos (usually I’m doing landscape, structural, or abstract), so let me know if you’d like to have your soul stolen.