Packing empty boxes

austin downtown, originally uploaded by Mr. Wright.

Lilly chided me for not updating enough, which I know is true. My plans to write tonight were foiled because my gear shift broke. Now I have to get up early tomorrow, jerry-rig it together, and drive to get it fixed, all before work. Great. Cars blow.

I also just recently finished getting all my photos that were left on my webspace on to Flickr. That was quite a chore, and it brought back my near obsession with Flickr. I'm actually going to write their young marketing maganer, whose one of my contacts, and inquire about jobs up there. I hear Vancouver's a lovely town.

Part of the problem with my writing, besdies being burned out with crappy stories at work, is that when I'm binging on images like this past week, writing becomes very difficult. I go through cycles where I get locked into photography and my writing takes a real dive. Aw, fuck it, my Flickr friend Selva says it better:

My whole life seems to revolve around boxes these days. At home, there are boxes coming in, nearly every day, due to some strange confluence of factors I don’t fully understand. There are packing peanuts too, but I Just Don’t Want To Talk About It Anymore (whoever invented packing peanuts should be shot). My workplace is moving, so there are boxes there too, sloppy specimens that shout, “Yuki made this!” — and, yes, the peanut guy’s fate goes double for packing tape’s inventor.

I feel like I once had a lot more to say. Lately, I sit down to write something down and end up with a headache. So I take the easy way out and post a photo or two, which can be nice, but on a regular basis probably as unsatisfying for you as for me.

Thing is, I can only do one thing at a time, creatively. If my mind’s in a visual mode, if I’m taking photos or drawing or painting, my writing shuts down. When I used to sing, I completely had no eye. I can’t even consider music or art when I’m writing and on a roll. Picture these as boxes, and well, my brain can only be in one at a time, and likes to get comfortable; these cycles last for weeks or months at a time. It’s not that I don’t want to be able to do these things simultaneously — I do, and it pulls at me because I want to do Everything All The Time — but haven’t figured out how.

Her photos are gorgeous, by the way.

Good night.

(Oh, one last thing: I found a weekly midnight basketball league in Temple. I went and checked it out tonight, shot around a bit. Looks like it's pretty competitive, but, boy howdy, I can't wait for next Wednesday.)