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Absolutely Nothing

Mood: Hazy
Drinking: Tea

Sometimes a girl runs out of words.

Sometimes there’s nothing to say. Nothing of any great weight or consequence, anyway. But here I am, fingers to the letters. Spelling out nothing with the most diligent attention.

I suppose it’s better than filling up space with one of those inane surveys that litter the myspace sites, spilling pointless secrets to perfect strangers, like the color of my current underwear (black) or whether or not I have a crush on someone in my Top 8. (not)

Or I could pass the time by making a laundry list of what I did on my weekend (chopped off my hair, smeared paint on my toes–or, more accurately, paid people to do both of those things for me–walked the dog, washed Boy’s jeans).

Usually I refuse to post a word unless I actually have Something to say. Today I’m just writing to see if there’s anything in there, anything that will rise to the surface and surprise me.

…I’ve got nothing.

Yesterday at 5:30 a.m. I was feeling incredibly inspired. The two Ms and I had crawled out of bed while it was still dark outside so we could shoot a cinepoem out in the bay and catch the sunrise. It was a good plan, but the fog rolled in overnight and there was no sunrise to be seen…just a faint pinkish haze as the fog went from greyish-black to greyish-blue.

But it was inspiring, nonetheless. Nobody out but the fishermen and the birds. Beadlets of fog collecting on our eyelashes and pushing our hair to new puffy extremes. Waves splashing like a heartbeat against algae-covered green rocks. Little red crab-creatures scuttling sideways from crevice to crevice. It was all so perfectly peaceful and, although it didn’t look exactly the way we hoped it would with the lack of brightening sunrise and all, it was just as magnificent in its own way, with muted foggy colors and a wet morning silence lying heavy over our whole little world.

Yes, I could have written a novel, yesterday.

But today there is no fog (which means there was probably a glorious sunny show at 6 a.m.). There are no crabs, save the office variety, and no wakeful birdsongs. Just me. The computer. A stack of work. A lack of inspiration. And a whole lot of nothing coming out the ends of my fingers.

-Lo, who has come back to the bob thing again.


Mood: Pretty Good
Drinking: Sugared Tea

She’ll be a pretty good girl, and you get to watch.

That’s right. There’s a new cinepoem in town, and she’s just waiting for you to start the staredown.

Pretty.Good.Girl. was shot at The Archbishop’s Mansion here in San Francisco last month, and not only is she the first cinepoem to be shot since my broken wrist episode back in February (if you look closely, you can see my super-stiff left appendage lurking about trying not to be obvious), but Pretty also features the in-front-of-the-camera debut of our favorite photographer, Patti Monaghen.

Patti’s photos have been featured in a cinepoem before (Slow Roast), and they’re also splashed all over this web site, but this is the first time that the lady actually lets herself be seen (although she doesn’t completely come out from behind the camera). Of course, she did a fabulous job, as you’ll soon see.

Isn’t all that tantalizing enough for you? Go see the Pretty.Good.Girl. She’s waiting on the Cinepoems page. Big thanks to my web guru, Chris, for being so persistent about getting her uploaded (no thanks to AT&T, the bitches!). PC people: There will eventually be a Windows version, you’ll just have to wait a teeny bit.

And coming up next?Alter Ego. Our tenth (!!) cinepoem is already in the can, as they say, but we’ve just started editing. She’ll be along shortly.

-Lo, who tells her stories to the Dark.

On Your Mark

Mood: Apocalyptic
Drinking: Wormwood Water

Okay. So. I don’t really have anything exciting to say today. M and I are knee-deep in the editing process of Pretty.Good.Girl., and as soon as that’s up and running, we’re starting on Alter Ego. And K and I are neck-deep in stuff for Book #2, sorting through piles of fabulous photos from PM and trying to decide between our three finalists for a title. (I can’t tell you yet–it’s a secret.) But really, that’s not what I wanted to say.

The truth is, I just couldn’t stop myself from logging an inane post on 6.6.06, just so I could say, “DAMIAN!” and giggle to myself as if I have done something very clever. Which, really, I haven’t.

So. Yeah. Uh. That will be all for now.

Or will it?

-Lo, whose neighbor could very well have her baby today and how cool would THAT be?