o
k
my eyes are blurry from sifting through 4 journal pages worth of Siv's most recently posted photography. That woman is talented, for those of you who havent seen my endless commentary of adoration. I found it particularly amusing that she was disappointed about being left out of the ass threads in one of her journal entries. The entry on punctuation was so good I cut it out to read on blue days. How could you help but laugh?
While surveying her posted photography I began to question myself. There can be no doubt that she is a good artist; there are plenty of other people complimenting her to prove its not an artifact of my fascination. What I want to know, though, is how to tell if I like a print because its good art or if I just find her attractive (this obviously only applies to prints with her in them).
With some temerity I will be critical in saying that I think my problem is magnified by the fact that when it comes to photography other than figurative she is kinda hit-or-miss. Some of it is incredibly good, such as: the railroad one (g4), dock.jpg, and pathladder while others (and I wont be so foolish as to list any) dont share the genius so apparent in all her figurative work.
but
she did refer to me as my leetle pumpkin muffin. Now by itself this wouldnt be unusual as I am frequently addressed as leetle pumpkin muffin. In fact, the name badge on my work coveralls reads LPM. Here is the beauty in being a leetle pumpkin muffin: Siv loves pumpkin muffins (please refer to Sivs journal if you need proof, its clearly stated there). Therefore, Siv loves me. Of course, Jesus loves me too and Ive never gotten anything from him except absolution from an original sin that I never committed nor realized I had.
A little real life update: I left too early to see the girl in the red truck (Ill keep you all posted), Ive been helplessly happy at work since I finally resorted to browbeating the unionized employees into submitting a reasonable proposal, sadly; Ive also been all bubbly and stupid as a result so Ive been making political mistakes left and right. Ah life!
and, to make this the longest journal entry ever:
on the buried russians:
Die Angehrigen der 13 verschtteten Bergleute geben die Hoffnung nicht auf - Den Rettern luft die Zeit davon
excerpt:
Auf dem Gelnde der vor dem Zweiten Weltkrieg eingeweihten Schachtanlage tragen viele der wartenden Frauen bunte Kopftcher oder Jacken in krftigen Farben. Solange es noch die kleinste Hoffnung auf eine Rettung gibt, trgt niemand Schwarz.
k
my eyes are blurry from sifting through 4 journal pages worth of Siv's most recently posted photography. That woman is talented, for those of you who havent seen my endless commentary of adoration. I found it particularly amusing that she was disappointed about being left out of the ass threads in one of her journal entries. The entry on punctuation was so good I cut it out to read on blue days. How could you help but laugh?
While surveying her posted photography I began to question myself. There can be no doubt that she is a good artist; there are plenty of other people complimenting her to prove its not an artifact of my fascination. What I want to know, though, is how to tell if I like a print because its good art or if I just find her attractive (this obviously only applies to prints with her in them).
With some temerity I will be critical in saying that I think my problem is magnified by the fact that when it comes to photography other than figurative she is kinda hit-or-miss. Some of it is incredibly good, such as: the railroad one (g4), dock.jpg, and pathladder while others (and I wont be so foolish as to list any) dont share the genius so apparent in all her figurative work.
but
she did refer to me as my leetle pumpkin muffin. Now by itself this wouldnt be unusual as I am frequently addressed as leetle pumpkin muffin. In fact, the name badge on my work coveralls reads LPM. Here is the beauty in being a leetle pumpkin muffin: Siv loves pumpkin muffins (please refer to Sivs journal if you need proof, its clearly stated there). Therefore, Siv loves me. Of course, Jesus loves me too and Ive never gotten anything from him except absolution from an original sin that I never committed nor realized I had.
A little real life update: I left too early to see the girl in the red truck (Ill keep you all posted), Ive been helplessly happy at work since I finally resorted to browbeating the unionized employees into submitting a reasonable proposal, sadly; Ive also been all bubbly and stupid as a result so Ive been making political mistakes left and right. Ah life!
and, to make this the longest journal entry ever:
on the buried russians:
Die Angehrigen der 13 verschtteten Bergleute geben die Hoffnung nicht auf - Den Rettern luft die Zeit davon
excerpt:
Auf dem Gelnde der vor dem Zweiten Weltkrieg eingeweihten Schachtanlage tragen viele der wartenden Frauen bunte Kopftcher oder Jacken in krftigen Farben. Solange es noch die kleinste Hoffnung auf eine Rettung gibt, trgt niemand Schwarz.