The window of my office overlooks a pond. Lately a pair of terns have been fishing out there. I think I’m going to stuff some minnows with hashish and put them in the pond. Thus leaving no tern unstoned.
Thanks so much to everyone who added their thoughtful comments. It really helped form the debate in my head. I probably will go on some meds, but I’m going to keep a sharp eye out for any degredation of the Bob in Bob.
Rache mentioned that her workspaces are studies in chaos. That would be a study in understatement for me. In the late eighties I had a studio downtown. It was a building that used to be used by printers, so there were large open press rooms that were ideal for photography studios. So the building was an enclave of creatives. Small agencies and design shops, one person operations and even a printer or two were left. I had a great little space, long and narrow, with a parquet floor and a built in work surface along one side. I was on the sixth floor and had a great view of the east side of downtown. I could see the Metrodome a few blocks away. I even had a sink so I could clean my brushes. It was ideal. What a mess I made of it. Every surface was piled high with papers and supplies and illustration board. Tools would disappear as if into a black hole. It was what my home would look like if I’d stayed single. A scary thought.
The ad business was going into the shitter at that time and it was really tough on marginal operators like me. I used to spend much of my days sitting around with other photographers and artists who weren’t busy and moaning about the situation. One day I found a couch that someone had left out for the garbage collectors. I got my brother-in-law to use his truck to help me get it up to studio. Big mistake. I ended up sleeping most of that last year I was in business for myself.
Related posts:
thanks so much for the support:) finals will be over in a few days and then i will breathe a huge sigh of relief that will be heard all over the world, i’m sure. if you need any info about meds for ADD, just let me know. to be honest, the only time i noticed my creativity disappearing was when i didn’t do anything that would inspire it for a long time, so in a sense that is my own fault. good luck to you! :::hugs:::
ah couches and employment issues. I’ve sprawled on a few myself. Try the meds, and keep careful track, journal the effects if possible, so you stay in control.
oh, that’s a very old one.
The classics never get old.
Groan.
do you think meds would keep you from spewing such awful punnery? becuase if there’s even the slightest chance, i think you should medicated to the gills. TO THE GILLS, BOB.
no props for you, either. ha!
No tern unstoned — heh heh, when something works, you stick with it, right?
Good decision about the meds. If you think they will help, then that’s what matters most — YOU have to be comfortable in your own skin, and if you think they will help you be more productive, concentrated, or whatever, that’s what’s important.
I hope you find the right meds, or right combination of meds, that allows you to become a “better” Bob, but also allows you to remain the Bob you are, if that makes any sense.
When I was working as a photographer, I used to put a sign on the darkroom door that I was working with chemicals (so people would have to either knock or call before entering) and I’d go to sleep. Those were the days!
Oh, can you feel Rache’s envy? She’s covering up for the fact that she lies awake at night just straining to come up with the Next Great Pun.
And I’m sure you heard about that one scientist who was arrested. He cloned himself, see, and when he introduced his clone to a team of top scientists, the clone would do nothing but spout off obscenities to them. Fed up, the scientist punched his clone out, knocking him off the stage. When the police came, they arrested the scientist, not for making a human clone, but for making an obscene clone fall.
i’m so proud to say that i don’t get that.
but i did hear the one about the guy who fell into a lens grinding machine and made a spectacle of himself. word.
Heh, I had a couch in my store early on and slept a lot. I didn’t everything backwards except make any money or meet someone special. Bleh.
obscene clone fall. i get it now. it only took six hours.
Mix almonds with the hashish. One good tern deserves a nutter. (badda pow!)
kick me
ugh.
Interesting story. You aren’t couching the story at all? Didn’t think so.
dear bob and steve,
i hate you both.
love, rache.
No tern unstoned – love it 🙂