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.