Friday Evening
Friday. Well, another week. How did it go? What have I accomplished that will benefit, if not the world, then my own bubble existence? I'm not sure. Still, a Friday, the weekend coming. Sleep in the next couple of days, work on artandlife, watch one of the movies that arrived from Netflix on Thursday. Perhaps that's a good sign, returning the three movies I've had sitting on my DVD machine for the last, what, two months? A sign of low level depression I would think. Is it true? It is, I suppose, if I bring it up. Hard to say anymore. There are so many variations of the disease loving described each morning in the news: the pills you can take, the seminars you can attend, the journals you can read (and write).
Then again, life goes on. What's out there on the Oakland streets that needs a photograph? What frivolities at the local theater? What thoughts, floating in the aether, could be worked into an artful entry?
Easy, easy.
Yes, yes. I'm playing Jimmy Cliff's The Harder They Come at the moment. Haven't played it in a while. I remember going to the movie with MSC when it was released, a movie soundtrack we played many a day thereafter at the Rip Off Ranch. Ouch! Thirty years ago. Sorry to bring it up. An old guy thing I suspect. (Still like the sound track, though, listening to it now these many years later.)
I'm no further along getting anything done. (Of course.) I blame it on the aching mouth and sinuses, the slight disorientation that is always with me (think about carrying cameras in a crowd, the horizon a bit off bubble listening to a little voice in the distance shouting with some urgency “Shit man, cut and run for the apartment!”. A reason not to go outside when life itself requires that we do go outside to, you know, participate in Life (with a capital L). But I wander.
Still (to beat this horse beyond recognition) why no production here at the computer? Artandlife, for example? Get more pages up? Hard to say. I have many photographs to post.
Maybe you're bullshitting yourself. Maybe deep down you don't want to get artandlife in shape.
Yeah, I've thought of that, but I do get a kick out of the photographs.
So?
I think I need to get my ass outside and take another crack at the world before I become a permanently broken record. Something other than a warm cosy office full of psychopaths in Oakland every day where I vegetate like a good supernumerary staggering toward the end of his career. Just, you know, right now, end the career. Many do it with half the fuss.
Broken record.
Playing David Bowe's Aladdin Sane. MSC said she identified with Lady of Another Grinning Soul, I thought of her whenever I heard Bell Bottom Blues. Memories of another time. No regrets, except for the regrets. Art and life here in Oakland.
I take it you're well into the sake?
Take it or leave it: I'm into the sake this Friday evening.
|
