Facebook has disabled my account.
Moments prior:
“I’m going to transfer my negative energy onto you,” he says. He laughs loudly.
Maniacally, he laughs.
“The hell you are,” I exclaim, my eyes wide with determination.
Transference complete.
Not really. Except for the fact that Facebook really did disable my account.
I’m not concerned. Everything is as it should be. 
There have been discussions on many a blog about the nature of comments, and here I’m talking about the moderation/deletion of comments. I’ve always contended that this site is mine and I can allow what I want on here. I’ve always moderated the comments in this section of the site while allowing people to comment without moderation in The Model Shoots gallery and the Street +/ Life gallery. I don’t really have an issue with people speaking their mind here. I do have a problem with negativity and controversy. It’s not for me. However, I don’t get much of there here on ipanemic.
Within the past 36 hours, though, I’ve come to realize a more valid reason for me to enforce comment moderation. And so I’ve changed my policy. All comments throughout the site will be held in moderation.
And to the bitter boyfriend/ex/lover/whatever of one of the models I shoot, please understand that this isn’t the place to vent your frustrations or to attempt to humiliate someone. Commenting the way you have, numerous times throughout the site, is both vulgar and immature. You need to find something else, somewhere else, to occupy your time and move on with your life.
Well, that was a New Year’s party to remember. January 2nd, I arrive home. In need of coffee, and more sleep, but that’s really not possible. I fell asleep last night and everyone disappeared. I awoke this morning to Kenny snoring. House empty. I knew everyone had flights out but I had hoped to say goodbye to all of them before they split.
I love my friends. They’re such incredible people. And they love me. And it’s wonderful. I don’t know when I’m going to see most of them again.
New Year’s was phenomenal. I scootered up to Hollywood, show up at the restaurant, skip the valet parking, and park in front. I’m off the scooter less than a minute and there’s Will. Will, who I haven’t seen in 25 years. And here’s Val. And there’s Melissa and Colin and Sandra and Gwen and Mary and Bill and Carlos and MJ and Kelly and… and on and on and on. And new friends.
Drinking. Dancing. And at 3:30, slowly making our way back to Val’s. Lounging on the patio. In the yard. Cigarettes, drinks, Colin with the guitar.
“The sun’s coming up.”
It might be coming up in another hour. Some people drift back to their hotels, others crash. Four make it out to watch the sunrise. I am asleep on the floor. Kenny is sharpied during the night.
9am, people on the patio. Breakfast. Cigarettes. The dark room from where I came remains dark throughout most of the day, friends sleeping on the couch, on the floor. People in and out to get beverages. I ride back to South Beach briefly for a change of clothes and shower.
Kickball game delayed due to rain. At dusk, we make it to the beach, a motley crew of slightly inebriated or, entirely inebriated, brats. The moon rises full over the water. Fun. Disappearing bases in the sand. The red ball soaring past the outfield into the ocean. And we lounge. We laugh. We hug. We smile. We love one another with every bit of our heart.
Back at Val’s, more food, more beverage, more cigarettes. More lounging. More laughing. More Colin and singing along. Friends begin to leave for the night, some with early morning flights.
I pass out once more on the floor. I awake and they are all gone. I’m bummed that I didn’t get to say goodbye to all of them. And then I think that maybe it’s okay. Because it was so hard to say goodbye to some last night. But I’ll see them again. And they’re always here.
I’m so fortunate to have the friends in my life that I have. I’m so lucky to know so many good people. And I can’t think of a better way to have welcomed in 2010 than being with my friends.
Hello, 2010. I’m glad you’re here.