I applied for a huge grant today that I will never get, but feel that my proposal so completely encompasses my interests as a photographer, homosexual, and aesthete, that I’m going to just contain my triumph in fantasy, and imagine the fabulous work, many adventures, and visits to faraway places that would come out of actually getting it. I won’t know until next year, and maybe by then I will have forgotten about it anyway and actually figured out a way to make this project happen without things like money or 3 meals/day.
I’m going through the itchy-face faze of growing my beard back. Why does beauty have to be so difficult? BC says that I now have back hair, too. I can’t see it, but he can–something to do with the angle of view. Only a month and 10 days before turning 40. What else is going to sprout, turn gray, or fall off by then?