As far as I can tell, this explains why, at four in the bloody morning, I have the sudden need for half-naked men with nicely-developed leg muscles, a 5' by 10' sheet of plywood, and a disposable camera. Sure, you could probably blame some of it on a mere hormonal imbalance, but yesterday night, it was four well-endowed redheads and a boa constrictor.
Ever since I've allowed my artistic sense free range, strange urges and ideas have been occurring to me. Scantily clad figures are the least of them, unfortunately. For instance:

I've seriously thought about shooting myself in the arm just to photograph the results.
I've had to restrain myself from asking several people to take off their pants to examine their muscle definition.
I've woken up after a long night of work covered in paint, but strangely, not clothes.
I've climbed out onto mountain ledges just to get better shot from the edge. This is, of couse, after I've already fallen down eight feet from the ledge above.

The list, sadly, goes on and on. I'll probably post more items as they occur.

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