Brad Walsh

Get Myself Into It

I am just so confused by the world right now! I don’t even know what the questions are, but the answers are all “who knows.” The Cardigans’ “Erase & Rewind” came on shuffle last night in my bedroom and at the time I thought, YEAH! Thanks.

It was very nice to paint again last week. I forgot how much I enjoy doing it, but I made the mistake of doing it not by myself, it’s much better alone. I’m not very good, but it’s so satisfying to make something from nothing and then just look at it, or listen to it.

Hmm. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

Kathy got a new tattoo, from Where the Sidewalk Ends.

Morgan had a redlight headlight which shone in everyone’s face.

Monday: Aunt Romina making pancakes, Morgan about to kill himself biting the top off a champagne bottle, and beach blanket madness:

More pictures here.

How do I feel about being lumped? When did this go from so good to so bad?

For the last month all my photos for JunkMag have been of the same fifty or so people, give or take a few surprises here and there. It’s been pointed out to me, as if it was news. Yeah, it’s the same people. It’s the people I hang out with, and we haven’t really been going out very much. It’s been hibernation winter house parties for the most part, and these are the people I love to be around. The nightlife photos section is a documentary of my night-life, not the world’s. And I’ve been getting steadily more hits, anyway, so apparently the strangers who visit enjoy seeing a cast of identifiable characters. Give us a new jolt that doesn’t blow and perhaps things will change. Spring, something new, a reason to stay.

Wow, is Britney Spears fucked.