Mr. Wuss
June 1st, 1999

How The Morning Comes
For some reason, which was a little rude of me, I didn't run a link to The Nocturnes, the folks who ran the night photography class that I took at the end of last month and wrote about in the journal. I've committed to send them a couple of the photographs I shot during the class and they will post them along with the work of other students on their web site. Tim Baskerville, our instructor, keeps asking if I've shot any more night photographs and I haven't, but I suspect that I will. Once my jaw thaws out a little more, maybe at the end of this month (during the full moon). I kind of like a photographic specialty that you can only practice once each month (albeit all night in the cold and the damp running around like an idiot with a strobe light and a bunch of colored cellophane). I have an old set of Eddie Bauer goose down thermal underwear that I bought before I went overseas to Korea. I may dig that out. That and the flask. And some film.

I guess I'm pretty much recovered from the rash-fever-flu I had over the weekend. I did come home early today really tired, but I think a good night's sleep will snap it. I've heard from two sources now of school kids getting this, one, my nephew in Portland. A rash all over the body and a slight fever that lasts four days. Ola at the office said it was related to Legionnaires Disease, a totally benign mutation, the doctor telling her this about her own daughter who had this last week. Right. Legionnaires Light, something to do on your long weekend.

This is a little short, much like yesterday's entry. I'm going to try for those ten hours of sleep and see how the morning comes.

The problem with being ill is writing abysmal happy talk like the above. It is four in the morning and I have just finished a bath. I will go into work and if you look, you will see my body sitting at my desk. I am going to do the best I can because I am a trooper and a Boy Scout. Because I was a trooper and I was a Boy Scout. And I need to get a haircut. And a life. And some orange juice.


 
The banner photograph was taken of Mr. Wuss two years ago last summer. I didn't have a contact sheet, just the black and white negatives, so I scanned it to see what I had. OK, but no cigar.

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