at least I can hear birds now.

Out the bedroom door. Once I'm back in late June, I'm home for a while. This door will be wide open, and my feet will be shoeless, for 2.5 months straight.

I have two sleeps at home, then I spend the next two weeks in Vancouver without a break. I'm completely drained, and just hope I can recharge my soul somewhat in the next fourty hours before I head back into the big city. I have the place to myself, and I'm not going to do anything but sleep and swim and read. And rotoscope 4,000 frames of dance.

The novelty of working in Vancouver has long worn off. The noises and buildings and masses of people are a nonstop assault on my senses. I'm finding it hard to get my head away from all the stimulation, to get some perspective. Even now that I'm home on this quiet island, my nerves are still frayed, I still feel like punching people in the face. My back is sore from stress, I'm eating shitty food, not drinking enough water, and I haven't slept enough. My life isn't balanced, I'm not taking care of myself, and pimply rosacea has broken out on my face.

Fuck yeah. How's that for the romantic life of the artist?

Good night.