There are times when my desire to quit all modeling alternates between all-encompassing and altogether absent. This is an in-between time. With certain individuals, I feel an almost lovesick pang to cling to them and make art forever, but with very many individuals I'm utterly repulsed into a complacent hoodie and jeans. "How do you tell someone you don't want to work with them?" You don't talk to them at all.

I am a bartender now, as means of making money. Importantly, I am an apprentice bartender/junior bartender/barstaff bitch who takes all the crappy shifts and can't request time off. This is a crucial stage in employment-development, and I have been here a few times before; I value it, actually, but not without the completely understandable and totally rational allocation of complaint that I can't do shit on weekends anymore. I also have to wake up early every day of the week.

My heart aches for art; my brain aches for a solution. My body aches for Tanqueray but I can't have fun anymore.

That is all.