Will Be Confused
Tuesday. Awoke at six this morning, wide awake, no way to go back to sleep. I suspect I got plenty of sleep having gone to bed relatively early, but do recall turning on the radio now and again (doze off, wake up, listen to radio, turn off radio, doze off) as late as eleven, so who knows what the reality is? I woke up, no way to go back to sleep, the head and body felling OK, no complaints, off the breakfast for an hour and a quarter, the time I need to read through the papers, back now just after eight (when the parking meters kick in). Life adjusted to a parking meter schedule. I'm not sure I should mention that.
At least it's not raining. They were projecting a week of showers, now they're saying cloudy and cloudy with showers. I'm old enough to know to pay no attention. Still, opportunity to get my walk in this morning, maybe get the car washed. The laundry needs doing. I'm pretty much out of clean jockey shorts and none of the boxer shorts fit anymore. Not that that's a particular problem if you cinch your belt up a notch. Probably another something best not to mention.
Later. It's eleven, but I've spent the last two hours taking a bus downtown and then ambling back to the apartment taking the occasional picture. I have to admit I'm feeling a bit hollow - Would I like to do this? Would I like to do that? - but, for all that, nothing too depressing. The sun is shining, there's the usual (usual for these last few weeks) mix of sun and clouds that seems to draw me to draw me to black shadows against cloudy white skies, dramatic stuff, more dramatic than the day itself.
I walked through the area connected to the new Catholic church at the corner of Harrison and Grand, quite a project, really massive when you actually stand next to it, the patios connecting the church to the buildings next door quite amazing in just their size. A big coffee shop sits with lots of tables inside and lots of tables under umbrellas outside, a good place to go and sit, I suspect come spring. Or summer. For some reason thinking about coffee has given me heartburn lately, so I have yet to try it out, but I will. I will.
I was thinking about my photographs as I was walking - yes, it happens - and wondering if a picture like this one, dramatic and common as dirt in the picture world, is worth pursuing or if it might not be better to try to hook onto something else. The problem with something else is you tend to start with crap and graduate to crap until you get where you want to go, not where other people may think you should go, but where you want to go. That's where the interest and excitement lie, of course, getting to a different way of seeing (that may also turn out to be common as dirt). So maybe fewer pictures of crosses against a ragged sky (unless there's no way in hell you can't avoid it), one must be realistic on one's path enlightenment is my thought. Either than or stick with photographing attractive women. A conundrum, don't you think?
I can explain what I was thinking when I shot the picture of the building, a tale more about what isn't included, a kind of thought on a subconscious urge. And it didn't work. But I suspect it taught me something somewhere in the brain that will allow me to take another step when it sorts it out. To where? Well, that's the excitement. Bricks and mortar and such. Sexy as all hell, don't you think?
You seem to be making a big deal about very little.
You can say that about most peoples' interests I think. At least I'm not building a collection of urine bottles, foreign and domestic, or something equally silly. Photographs of urine bottles, foreign and domestic? Hmm. Photos of urine bottles, foreign and domestic. I wonder what they'd look like?
Later still. The laundry is finishing up and the sky is getting dark as we approach mid-afternoon. And I'm doing OK. I'm due for a call from the doctor later, see what he's able to say. Expect nothing, but don't lose hope. All said and done, the laundry will finish soon and there'll be clean sheets on the bed tonight. Ms. Emmy will be confused.