There, I fixed it. Thanks Jack. I’ve got my next two hours planned out now.
(I was supposed to shoot Christie today, but it’s postponed until tomorrow leaving me all KINDS of time for gathering techniques to fix stuff.)
It’s really just a beautiful day even though I just learned that my Flickr account has apparently been deleted. I’m a little bit bummed about that (you know, considering the hundreds if not thousand of hours I’ve put into it let alone the fact that I really enjoy Flickr). But I’ll sort it out. I’ve been very careful to follow their guidelines and abide by their Terms of Service.
But everything else is good. 
Really, really good.
Since I’ve been back from my scooter trip, I’ve had a number of people tell me that I’ve changed. They’re right. I have. I’m not a new me, but I’m definitely an improved me. People still like me. And I still like them. And I’ve never been happier and more at peace in my life.
I was talking to my oldest son last night and I told him that, “You know, the only thing really missing is you guys.”
And a woman.
Life is good.
I feel as though I’ve been a little absent from ipanemic even though I really haven’t been. I’ve been working on a lot of different things kind of at once. And tonight, I started to upgrade the software that powers portions of ipanemic and decided I need to wait until I’ve got enough time to get to that.
I haven’t made a lot of mention of the street photos I’ve been putting up. Probably because I’m behind and trying to catch up on that. But I’ve been putting them up. The timestamps for the latest photo posted is September 12th, nearly a month ago.
We had our Around the World party here at Club Meridian. Took lots of photos. Shots lots of video. Need to get to that. Hopefully, I’ll be posting some of that before the weekend lets out.
The trip to Key West included tons of photos and video, from street photography to two model shoots. I have to get to those, and I’ve been doing a little work here and there on that. I cannot WAIT to show you the photos.
Headless will officially launch at the end of the weekend. Woohoo!
And then more. More of everything else. I’m not complaining at all. It’s good. Things are really, really good. And I’m happy.
I’m in a good place. I’ve just been a little out of touch on the front side of ipanemic. Or that’s the way it feels. But it’s good. It’s alllllllll good.
So…. yeah.
I went to Key West. It was a last minute thing, and I rushed to get out of here. I thought I did something smart by integrating twitter with my site so that I could post updates here from my phone since I wouldn’t have internet service. Or a computer. I was going to be smart and let people know my last known whereabouts in the event of some unfortunate accident, most likely to include sharks.
Wellllll, I kinda forgot to do the last step to get it integrated. And then I left. So all of those critical updates from Key West which I sent from my phone (which I lost while I was down there, and again when I came back)…. lost. Glad I spent the buck and change on the texts. (Plural case, noun usage; it’s legal.)
It’s good when you live in the 21st century, have the latest technological advances at your fingertips and use them. Smartly. Yay, Me!
Indubitably, or undoubtedly, an unusual trip. I was frequently reminded of Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. And whenever I reflected on that, I remembered that it’s the movie my oldest son used to fall asleep to every night in South Beach. I would go in the room to check on them (he and the younger boy) and they would be sound asleep, Johnny Depp or Benicio Del Toro deep in some manic panic on top of the dresser.
Only we didn’t have a convertible. And various other discrepancies. It was our own tour. And it was so surreal. I can say that it was awesome. And that it was ten levels of neato.
I decided I was going to write a book while we were on our little journey. Actually two. The first one’s a no-brainer: The Secret to Mediocrity, or How to Live a Pretty Average Life. I can’t guarantee that any life lessons provided in the book actually work, but at least you’ll feel kinda good having bought it. And that’s the important part. By buying it, you will have taken the first step towards living a truly mediocre life.
The second book is about the trip.
(But I need to finish the other one first. The one about the Girls. Let the record show that it was done. And I was going to release it when I got to LA on my scooter trip. And I finished it on the trip. And then I arrived in LA. And then I walked in the lobby of the hotel, ordered a ten-raw-sugar latte then bam! Spilled the latte into the keyboard. Gone. So now I’m nearly done with that one once more.)
See. This is how you don’t get things done. Come on. I can show you! Buy The Secret To Mediocrity.
Out of the box, the Twitter for WordPress plugin is fugly. There it is… over in my sidebar.
However, I’m leaving for Key West in a few. Which is what I said an hour and a half ago. (It’s been a long delay, it seems like.) I’m not going to have a computer. But I realized that I have a phone.
And I have a freakin’ twitter account against my will. But I love it, I do.
So I’ve (quickly) set up ipanemic so my twitter updates will appear here over the next day or so. This is in case I get eaten by a shark. I’ll send a gurgling text from the Keys beforehand. And voila: you’ll be updated via the lovely Twitter for WordPress interface.
Or you could follow me on twitter. Either/or. I’m going to the Keys now.
I witnessed a burglary last night. Here in the building. Around 12:15 last night, everyone parted ways. Giselle and Chaz had taken off for a late-night scooter ride. Mayday had gone to sleep. Miko and Jessie were long gone. And Lana was in the bed. (We threw a surprise birthday party for Mayday late in the evening.)
I had gone back outside to smoke a cigarette. As I was smoking, I heard some noise. I looked through the space between the breezeway and the wall where the trees grow down to the first floor. In the alleyway through the back gate, I could see the bottom part of a bicycle and a man standing over it. Then I noticed a guy in front of Roger’s place on the first floor, fiddling with a bicycle lock holding the bicycle to the wrought iron railing. At first glance, I thought it was Roger. He rides his bike a lot. That’s probably his friend in the alleyway, waiting on him. It was shadowy, but he looked to be the same height.
Then some red pliers flashed in his hands. I thought, “That’s odd; he must be having trouble with the lock.” It’s not Roger, I realize. Roger’s living room light is on, though, and this fellow is looking up at the window nervously and looking back down.
I get up and walk to the other side of the breezeway to get a better look at the guy. To look through the space on the other side of the breezeway because it will give me a direct view of him, unobstructed from the trees and the fence. I get up, I look down. That’s not Roger at all. I don’t know who that is. Then I see him slip the lock off the bike and I think to myself that he’s finally got the combination undone and he’s opening it. I look at him dead in the eyes as he stares back at me.
I go sit back down. A few seconds later, I realize this can’t be right. I look back over the railing and the bike is gone. The man is gone. The guy in the alley is gone. I walk downstairs and walk over to the lock; the lock was cut. At that moment, Chaz and Giselle come walking in through the front gate. I tell them what just happened. Chaz and I get on our scooters to try and find these guys; these guys on at least one stolen bicycle. We drive through the streets and head down to 5th. We head over to Alton and up to 14th.
I run into a police officer, tell him what happened, give him a description. He says if we find him to hold him and call the police. If we don’t, go to the station and file a report.
Chaz and I drive to Flamingo Park. We see guys on bikes but it’s not them. Even though we can’t see their faces off in the distance, the clothing is different. We drive back to the building.
Roger, whose door I had knocked on before I had left, was now upstairs. Giselle was there. Alejandro was there, having come back from work. Mayday was up, never having gone to sleep. And Luci. As it turns out, it was Luci’s bike. She doesn’t carry it upstairs and instead locks it up downstairs.
I apologized for not taking more action than I had. I felt badly. I couldn’t believe I was really watching a burglary, though. I thought that surely I wasn’t watching a burglary. I had thought that maybe it was another neighbor downstairs (since the first and second floor people kind of keep to themselves for the most part) or a friend of a neighbor. It couldn’t be a burglary.
I have no future as a security officer.
This is the second bicycle Luci’s had stolen in six months on the beach, apparently.
(Btw, that is neither Luci nor her bike in the photo. It’s just a photo. But as soon as I have a photo of Luci’s bike, I’ll post it here.)
