I'm producing too many stories at once because what I want is for you to feel, around the story, a saturation of other stories that I could tell and maybe will tell or who knows may have already told on some other occasion, a space full of stories that perhaps is simply my lifetime, where you can move in all directions, as in space, always finding stories that cannot be told until other stories are told first, and so, setting out from any moment or place, you encounter always the same density of material to be told.  

- Italo Calvino

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 This is the official Lucky Bastards, Inc beer of choice.   It's actually really good.  

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I'm in Mormon country now.  For the past week, I have taken pictures exclusively of the dog and the snow.  It makes me happy. On Christmas Eve, I got on a plane.  The first thing that I do when I get to the airport in the US is buy coffee in a paper cup and a muffin and the paper.  And sit next to the window and stare at the runway.  Old habits die hard; there isn't much that can make me happier.  Except for this:

 and this:

and this too:

 That's me in the middle.  The day before I left, I collected (most of) my favorite girls, put them on a rooftop - that we were subsequently kicked off of - and the Dor Amores team dressed them up in all kinds of fancy ribbons and we shot their catalog.  Everyone, including myself, got paid in panties.  Jozzu, my assistant (and the one who took the pictures with me in the middle), was probably the one who was most excited about the idea.  I brought a bottle of Jack Daniels.  Kitty showed up freshly showered in a white dress and flipflops with nothing on underneath.  Bianca brought a garbage bag full of shoes.  The journalist showed up eventually, partly to take Kitty home but mostly to sit around for a bit and bask in his good fortune. 

We also took some pictures that we were going to make a holiday card out of, but I haven't gotten to that yet.  These are those.

Happy New Year.  

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Every time that I leave this city for a period of time, and I leave quite a bit, a giant electric drill starts making its way through the hole in my heart. 

When I was a kid growing up in Los Angeles, my mother would take me up to the top of hills and we would look down at the lights below and she would tell me that those were the lights of fairyland.  That was also the end of the story, there were no additional details about the goings-on of said fairies or how they spent their time who the fairies were fucking or what they had for dinner.  It was fairyland, and that was that.  

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I set aside a dozen pictures to start this blog with, and now that the time has come to post them I keep staring at this one instead.  This is the picture on my desktop.  The smiling one is Kitty, and the legs and the killer boots belong to Maruska.  I love them both.  We were out taking pictures of Maruska on the street, with a tv crew in tow.  It was a long night.  This is a snapshot.  This is a start.    

Thank you to Chase and Apnea for having me for this week or so, and hello internet world.  I haven't missed you, but it is nice to see you again.  

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