Ookay. So, I have been exponentially preoccupied these last few days doing some remotely productive things, mixed with a healthy does of concert seeing and sleep deprivation. I have a bus to catch as soon as humanely possible, thus this has to be spit out lightening speed style.
So, I want to post, badly, badly, badly, about my hallows eve weekend. I want to write about swaying to the harmonies or amy and torguil (10/10 name folks) while resting on the shoulder of my one of my best ladies. I want to write about possibly temporarily dislocating my left shoulder amidst innocent evening stretches. My god, how terrifying. I thought I was about to enter another unfortunately mundane and sad injury story, another one. Precisely one week after walking into a heating outlet in a parking lot that sliced my leg. Uncoordinated some are, or just unlucky. I pick the former. But stars was heart flappinly, stomach clenchingly, breathtakingly, voice shakingly terrific. Oui, Oui. Great show. I went sans costume, as I was running on time, which for me means running SO late, from a late afternoon siesta with my lover. I departed from black sheets thinking I would miss the music I had paid almost 50 bones to see, but somehow wasn't bothered. The compromise held far more value. So, alas, sans costume and making it just on time, we made it to the very front, and only got our tickets weeks ago, we are like magic. I crossed paths with two good gal pals of mine, confidently and perfectly sporting cotton candy and I think a cowboy, equipped with chest hair and a stash. I can't believe Danza wore that to the show, ballz. So this supposid brief summary is growing wings and a tail and evolving into a novel. Whoops. I will write more weekend happenings down the line. For now I want to write about Movember and a fashion streeter I shot a few weeks back that was highly anticipated to appear in the Uniter and sadly, did not.
Movember, movember. How many of you knew about this? Perhaps it is my lack there of when it comes to hairy companions, or testosterone infused humans. But, only this year did my best guy friend bring this to my attention. He explained it something along the lines of men growing out their beards/stashes precisely during this month, and that was when most guys did it. But, yesterday, I honest to god received like 10 messages in my inbox in regards to donating to guy friends movember stashes because all the proceeds go to prostate cancer. So, if that isn't endearing enough, a handful of guys that came into la Fyxx last night wished me a happy movember and to "get involved". I suppose the hype surrounding this is a parallel to breast cancer everything that happens all the time, year round. Though now I feel a bit bad as I am sure there is a breast cancer month, I am just not involved enough I guess. But, happy movember, get out and donate to your favorite male friend, brother, father, lover, stranger. Anyone.
Oh, and alas, my dearest Emily. My poor aquarian friend and I literally went out on under 4 hours of sleep, in fairly cold temperatures just to capture this outstanding fashion streeter portrait. We achieved a whole sac full of varying shots and poses and thus it was impossible to pick a final. But I do what I do best and process of elimination took over and the one, was chosen with pride. Fast forward and I hear through the grapevine that there was not enough room in the print to include it. SO FUCKING SAD, FOR SO MANY REASONS. The circumstances, and the fact that this lass was so excited, more so than anyone I have ever shot.
So I debuted it on facebook yesterday, and now I will on this blog of mine, hoping it gets the credit it deserves. And yes, drool over the outfit, I know I did.
Off to catch this bus. Or at least put in serious attempt.