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Personally, I’d recommend gardening to anyone as a hobby. It pays you back in… heh… SPADES. But seriously, get a couple high pressure sodium lamps hooked up, put together a rudimentary ventilation system in your closet, and you could grow some trees if you want to! Uh… anyway, moving on.

To be honest, I’m not totally sure what the plant in the photo below is. It’s a type of succulent… probably related to Jade… possibly a variety of Jade even. I don’t really know, but I like it.

The ivy peaking out of the corner in this photo, however, I do not like. Because it reminds me of all my failures. You see, that photo was actually taken a couple months ago before I… uh… murdered him. His name was Charles, and yes, he was a boy — I checked. He filled my life with oxygen for just one beautiful year. Indeed, he placed his life in my hands, and I… I crushed it… I killed it, just like Tommy and a sale.

Sigh… if only.

Spring appears to finally be on its way — and in Chicago that means a transitional and diverse weather period that resembles the first hour of The Day After Tomorrow. Between patches of heavy snowfall after a week of 60 degree days, and nights so foggy they’d put a nervous poopie in Ichabod Crane’s pantaloons, I feel like I’m living on a remote island in the North Atlantic.

Climate change be damned, I blame The Niño.

Curious to learn more? Look no further…

This is all a bit of throwaway footy, so I apologize for the lackluster photo updates so far this week. I’m drunk and need content, so suffice to say I didn’t labor over the decision to post them for very long. Shots that may or may not be less mediocre coming soon.

Long weekend, fuckers!