More Later...Really.

Brain, it's been over a month, I know. I'm bad, and I'm sorry. The important thing is I'm here now, and I'll make it up to you. I'll write all about going to Florida to work on the Haiti relief gig and seeing my Florida friends (some quite by surprise- a really nice surprise). I'll write about meeting President Clinton, and exchanging grins with Queen Latifa ( I'll even look up the correct way to spell her name). I'll write about the 23 and a half hour days we worked and my oh-so-cool hotel room in Miami. I'll write about how proud I was of my friend, J. I'll write about going to AZ with B. I'll write a bout my extreme disappointment that the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show is not the magic playground of fossils, crystals and the freaky people who collect them, that I remember from my childhood. I'll write about how it has completely degenerated to a big, tacky flea market complete with Pakistani merchants selling fake Blue Ray Dvd's and leather biker jackets. Sigh.

No I wont write about that, it's too depressing.

I'll write about the dwarf peach tree we bought and planted out back, and how it immediately produced two perfect plumb purple blossoms just in time for the big snowstorm nobody was expecting. I'll write about the cat's first time in snow. I'll write about the instincts of trees for predicting spring. I'll write about the handful of good movies I saw, and attending my first art show as an artist, where I slunk around, torn between embarrassment; covering up the special name tag proclaiming me an artist, and actually trying to talk to people.

Or maybe I wont write about any of that stuff. Maybe I'll just post some pictures next time. Maybe, for tonight, I'll leave it at this....

Rusty Lipscomb is a very unfortunate name if you think about it. Especially if you know that Lipscomb is pronounced "Lip- scum," which I happen to know because I had a friend in grade school who's last name was Lipscomb. Oddly, I'm having trouble remembering her first name. Anyway, there really is a Rusty Lipscomb out there. I just saw his name on some TV show program's ending credits. What were his parents thinking? That had to be a bitch! Poor guy! On the other hand he can't have minded that much or he would have changed it. Am I crazy? I would have totally changed my name if I got stuck with something like that. That probably just exposes how retarded my emotional I.Q. is, leaving me with a sadly stunted sense of humor about the same level as a seventh grade boy. I have milk that is more mature. I should probably grow up and get a life.




Pres Clinton at SOS Haiti



Backstage SOS Haiti.