I need to get out of here. But I have so much work to do still. I can tell I'm fast approaching burnout - a little crispy around the edges, snarky here and there, horribly impatient, prone to violent outbursts and sometimes just not making sense. Poor Jim, no wonder he insisted (or gently nudged) that we go out for dinner last night, rather than staying in. I don't think it did me much good, but he didn't try to smother me with a pillow while I slept, so in a roundabout way I guess it did.
We're going to take a short break and go to the Downtown News' "Best of Downtown Los Angeles" party tonight. I haven't had much social interaction besides Jim lately, so testing my rusty social skills, which were dubious to begin with (some might say nonexistent), at a party with politicians, fellow bloggers, relative strangers, the press and booze is probably not a good idea. But hey, if you see a crabby-looking Asian girl with a parasol sucking down those Fire & Ice cocktails, grab me another drink and say hi.
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"When you're alone And life is making you lonely, You can always go downtown When you've got worries, all the noise and the hurry Seems to help, I know, downtown..."
About Me
- celia
- “An artist is a creature driven by demons. He doesn’t know why they choose him and he’s usually too busy to wonder why. He is completely amoral in that he will rob, borrow, beg or steal from anybody and everybody to get the work done. - William Faulkner
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