Twentysomething

it had nothing on it. like me. worn out by another cycle, another time through the wash. rehashed. nothing to say really anymore because it's all the same shit.

The pale clear nights with the universe opened, shining down twinkling revelations onto shimmering cool sand, waters lapping in a hidden bay, fireflies fluttering carelessly.

Lemme just say I love my Palm Zire 71. I get to work cause the meeting is on my datebook. I call up the photographers cause their names are in my address book. I take down numbers and random sayings on my notepad. I snap pictures of random street performers

I work with a lovely cute creative director. She amuses me because she reminds me of my friend Yun. She has one of those peculiar toonlike Korean names that I like to say whenever I'm speaking to her. Yoosoon is, I think, forty years old but she still

The irony of this is that in the past days I have come close to a career decision, but at the same time, because of the months of shabbiness, I am ok with leaving frayed ends (incomplete and untidied) - train of thoughts - about my decision to go with this life or that.

I interviewed a model for a shoot today. I asked her age cause we're looking for girls 25 and up. No matter which way I asked, she wouldn't answer. "You look good" I said. "Give me a smile" I said. "25-