Slingshot Nights

You get tired. That’s what happens after a late night of bluegrass debauchery. Crashing parties at houses you’ve never been to. It’s Seattle on a Friday night, Saturday night, Sunday-Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-night. People are always looking for opportunities to connect with others.

You try to pull away and instead are hurled like a stone from a slingshot into the fray of late nights and even later days. This isn't my life, at least not all of the time.

This is “get stuff done” week. Don’t look for it on your calendar, its not there because its on mine. Get pictures edited, get pictures printed, get pictures framed. Get wall time, get a new website, get business cards made. In the end maybe get paid to do what you love. But probably not.

Americans don’t buy art. We admire it, talk about it, look at it. But we don’t buy it. We buy things that everyone else can have (and does for that matter). We buy pictures from Ikea, the ones that were re-printed in the thousands. The ones that are made by people in countries far away and under conditions that are foreign to me. Countries where they cant afford to buy art even if they want to.

Here are a couple of pictures that aren’t for sale (yet). Bus rides through the city.