Glorious Giddiness and Crazy Chemical Containment in the Kitchen

Many of you are already aware of the fact that I have been processing film in my kitchen. Processing film. That is. Developing. Film. In my shitdamnmotherfucking kitchen. Let me just say this one more time. I am processing black and white film in my kitchen.

I am giddy. And it’s been a long time since I have been giddy. Well. Perhaps that is not entirely true. Let me speak of giddy for a moment. And some of the things that have caused said recent giddiness. But only some. I can't give all of my secrets away. Especially since I have recently discovered that some of you actually read this crap. Anyway. Giddiness.

Recently the Piscean Musican at the STATELY HMG provided me with numerous CDs of mind blowing music. Mind blowing. And I would not have expected any less from this particular individual being so musically inclined himself. But I think I may have a problem. As I have been listening to the same CD for weeks now. And I can't seem to stop.

Many of you are aware of this obsession that has developed regarding said CD of Secret Chiefs 3. In fact, many of you have received multiple Secret Chiefs 3 CDs from me. If you have not received them it is only because I have not seen you. There are copies waiting. Waiting. Er. Uh. No. There aren't. You haven't. You can't prove that was me. I would never engage in any sort of illegal copyright infringement sort of thing. I'm just kidding. Kidding.

Uh. Where was I. Oh yes. Obsessed. And it’s not my fault. Not one bit. I blame the aforementioned Piscean Musician. It's his fault. So if you're all sick of me blathering on and on and on about Secret Chiefs 3, take it up with the management. Write a strongly worded letter. Get involved. I will be happy to forward your documents of complaint to said individual. Provided of course that you file the proper form in triplicate.

Uh. Yeah. So I’ve been giddy.

So the other day I was processing film in my kitchen. Wait. Should I explain this further. Am I leaving something out. And I hope by now you are all understanding the punctuation thing. When I want to hear something from you folks I promise you will indeed see a question mark. Maybe I should start from the beginning.

In the beginning...wait. Some guy already said that. Okay. So. I had an idea. I started thinking. And you know what dangerous things can happen when you start thinking. So I was thinking about dark spaces. Closets are dark spaces. Especially when there isn’t any light. So I thought that I should be able to go into my closet, roll out my film, and process it in the kitchen. I got chemicals. And I came home. I mixed them. Now for the potentially tricky part. Rolling out my film. In the closet.

So I got my can opener and a pair of scissors and the film developing reel and tank that I have had since I was seventeen and I went into my closet. Shut the door. Sat on the floor. And I’m feeling like it’s pretty damn dark. And I probably haven’t mentioned this, but there is quite a bit of crap in said closet. So I’m sort of sitting but there isn’t really a whole lot of room. And I don’t exactly take up that much room to begin with. But I’m sitting in this semi-contorted position. And it’s a good thing I’ve has some experience with yoga in the past or I might have gotten stuck. And given the fact that my housemate wasn’t due home for quite some time it might have gotten ugly.

But it didn’t. So I rolled my film. Pried myself off the floor. And went into the now chemically laden kitchen.

Oh. And I put on some Secret Chiefs 3. I mean really. What were you expecting.

So I’m standing in the kitchen in my argyle knee high socks. Pour. Shake. Knock. Knock. Bang. Wait. Shake. Knock. Knock. Bang. Repeat. And I’m sort of dancing around and shaking and knocking and banging the developing tank. I said the DEVELOPING TANK. And the giddiness is expanding logarithmically. Because I realize I am not only developing film IN MY MOTHERFUCKING KITCHEN. But also. Listening to Secret Chiefs 3. AND doing all of said things in my knee high socks.

I’ve been obsessed with knee high socks for some time. However. I have not admitted this in the past. And it’s not really that I haven’t admitted it per se, but I suppose I never really mentioned it before. So let me say it now. Loud and proud. I love me some knee high socks.

In case you were wondering what I might like for a nice little holiday-ish gift. Knee high socks baby. Knee high socks. I mean. Not that you have to get me anything. I'm not exactly getting you anything. So. I guess. I'm not expecting knee high socks. But if you ever feel the need to give me something that you haven't made. Which of course I always prefer. Then go for the knee high socks. But not the ones with the separate toe compartments. Those socks kind of freak me out.

Uh. Where was I again. Oh yes. Developing film in my fucking kitchen. In my fucking kitchen people.

So what does this mean. I will tell you. It means that I will be able to do a great deal more photography. I may be treking through shipyards. Or throwing lids off garbage dumpsters. I will be attending various musical events and click click clicking. Most certainly I will be photographing nerds in bathtubs filled with shiny objects. Beautiful womyn who smile with a sexy innocence. And bubbles. Lots of bubbles.

And this truly makes me feel giddy. Like a school girl with no panties on a cold December morning. Passion. It's all about passion.