I am deeply saddened to announce that my camera is dead.
Not buried yet, though. I’m still holding out hope for the Lazarus effect. It’s been out of commission ten days now, and today I finally made a truce with my wallet and took it to the repair shop. Apparently the entire works need replacing (I dropped it onto concrete), and it’ll be at least a week before I can see it again.
I won’t be able to post as frequently as I’d like (and my first Shaped by Style posts might be delayed), but I keep a backlog of photos on hand for precisely this reason. So I’ll be filling the radio silence, albeit with outdated outfits.
I took these about three weeks ago in one of my favorite antique stores.
Not having a camera is weird, man. It’s made me realize just how much of my fashion sense is performative. I almost don’t see the point in dressing up if I can’t share my outfit with the internet. The past week has been an exercise in looking cute just for the hell of it. And lemme tell you – I have been wearing some hella cute outfits.
But it’s also given me more time to write. I’m serious about this short-story-collection thing. I’m thinking a hundred-page chapbook of my ten best stories. Cheap enough to produce while nonetheless conveying my range of ability. I’ll set up a website to sell it, and maybe offer copies to a few local/alternative bookstores. One of my favorite thrift shops even sells customers’ art.
Should I produce a separate one for poetry? Or intersperse the poems in with the prose?