My Lack of Attention to this Blog: SUNDOWN.

Yes, it has been 3 months since I have apparently seen or experienced anything sundown enough to post on this blog. And that comment alone is perhaps as sundown as it gets because I can assure you, there is a whole lot of sundown in each and every day of my life. And yours as well. (if you don't think so, you're either not looking hard enough, or the one doing the sundown things to begin with. In which case, go get yourself checked out.)

For my part, I've just been too lazy to share with you. And for that, I apologize. (or if you want the real reason...the last day I posted was the day I met my new love interest. So I guess you can say I've been busy.) Love or not though, I'm sincerely sorry and now that that's out of the way, let's get back to sundowning.

Stanford Drama Department.

not surprising...

Amateur Plumbing.

My homework assignment for this past week was to construct an imaginary plumbing system. Piping urinals is my passion. Thank you, Stanford, for this high caliber and all too applicable education.

creepy old lady laughing at her reflection in the library window.

(unfortunately this shot did not capture her dropped jaw mid-'LOL' as she teases with her own reflection in the library window. apparently late nights do WEIRD things to people...)

Drunk, Passed Out Small Child in Chipotle Booth.

Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you here?
I'm just tryna eat my burrito-bowl, not investigate a murder-scene.

Backpacking Hobo Knitting Outside My Window.

Really the only words that come to mind are: SUN.DOWN.

"may I photograph your heels?"...SUNDOWN.

Today I was in San Francisco for my first ever job interview. Hello Real Life. All corp'ed out in my business cash' attire, I was celebratory-strutting down the Embarcadero when all of a sudden I was accosted by a short and breathless middle-aged man. "I am an artist, and a sculptor," he huffily explained, "and I have NEVER, seen such beautiful arches as yours." Suddenly he was on his knees, extending his pudgy arms out towards my feet whilst I was simultaneously wondering if I had just become the center of a comedic horror movie in which the young ingenue is lured into showing a random man her feet and then is kidnapped or murdered in the bright daylight of the hobo-patrolled San Francisco Embarcadero. And yet, being the naive pushover that I am, I hesitated yet ultimately obliged and soon after there I was with a pudgy middle-aged man caressing the bottoms of my feet whilst he positioned them in the sunlight to best capture their beauty with the bohemian lens of his blackberry curve. And 10 minutes later after he triumphantly concluded his work--the most intimate anyone has or ever will be with my gnarly feet, I snapped out of post foot-admiration letdown and took a moment to myself to utter the only words that could possibly describe this outlandish situation: "SUN.DOWN."