Dirty Art

So Thursday, despite feeling under the weather for various reasons, I decided to finally keep my promise to Brandon to do some headshots. I showed up at his door an hour late, Inta juice in hand, and a scowl on my face. Apparently that isn't the best facial expression for close-ups, so Brandon immediately offered a raincheck if I wanted to wait until the dark cloud of gloom lifted. I was too miserable to want any part of his raincheck, so I simply sat down and sucked $6 juice from a styrofoam cup for an hour and a half as we chatted about philosophical ramblings and past loves. By the end of that pre-gaming, I was in a better mood, so the camera came out.

After four rolls of film and a quick trip to the downtown Cub for some lipstick (for Brandon of course), we called it a day. I'm not sure how these pictures are going to turn out considering my state of mind and the fact that the worst head cold of my life (and that is saying a LOT considering I am always fucking sick lately) has kept me from sleeping much. BUT at least I can say my word is good for something. I guess Brandon had a good enough time to ask me to do more at a later date. Next week we have plans to meet at a local watering hole to peruse through the pictures and decide if there are any worthy ones. Regardless, I suppose we can always shoot more later. He even agreed to be my subject in some future pictures I would like to take for class. Good stuff.

Speaking of class, I pulled up my first pot this last Thursday!! I was so damn excited. Going into this class, I had NO idea how difficult wheel pottery was going to be. But, damn, it is VERY, VERY difficult. So difficult, I have asked the teacher on more than one occasion to let me just do pinch-pots. He didn't think that was funny. I wasn't joking.

Anyways, Liz and I are going to head to the studio in an hour or so. She is apparently bored this weekend and looking for a good laugh. I can't deny that it is probably quite entertaining to watch me magically get clay on my nose, ass, forehead and completely down my front. I am not kidding when I say that I am by far the messiest person in that classroom. Somehow there are three clean-cut, sorority-type girls who go in to class looking like high maintenance and come out the same. I go in looking a little frazzled and red in the cheeks (due to my morning dedication to the treadmill/track) and come out looking like I should be in a pen on someone's farm. Ah well. Art is supposed to be dirty, right?