Read A Little Better
For someone who says he feels like writing I'm having a hell of a time writing. I'm behind the wheel: washed, waxed, gassed, maps packed, sitting at the curb with my motor idling, gearbox in neutral.
You feel like an automobile? asks Self.
Well yes. I said I felt like writing, I didn't say I could. Maybe it's the flu shot. I'm reminded of a statement made by a writer I used to follow, a suggestion on how to write during times of stress and confusion. This was during the Vietnam era when nobody had any idea what was going on, as opposed to today when nobody has any idea what's going on, and he said, "write what you know. Write what is in front of your face. Describe what you see, don't attempt any interpretation." And I always felt that was pretty good advice. I do walk to work every day. I do pass people on the street. I do think about art and life and traffic. These are good subjects. I'll try one. Tomorrow.
I've blocked out some long weekends this month to spend time making prints with the new Epson printer.
How long have I had it? $850 or whatever it was and I've used it once? And that one print was a mistake in that I printed an 8 x 10" photograph that came out the size of the negative? Does this tell me something? It should. I say I'm going to take these long weekends off to do some printing. That may not be accurate. Maybe I can take a first small step out of the self delusional here and go for accuracy if not action. I've marked out a four day weekend next week to work with the photo printer, but I may well just sleep in late a lot and go to some movies instead. So I'll say I plan to work with the Epson printer unless I decide, once I'm there on the ground, to sleep in late and go to movies instead. This, I think, may be progress.
Oh, hell. I feel the need to post something, but what I've written makes no sense. Low level incoherence. Which would be OK if only it read a little better.