Love It
Three weeks ago this hour they were gutting me like a fish on a table south of here in Palo Alto. It is good to remember this. It is good to not fret. Take it easy. Take the advice of MSM, who suggested going drinking with the crew this coming Friday might not be my best move. Right. I know these things. Really. I am the person who is foolish only to a point, the observer, the reporter, the man who is foolish up to, but not over the edge. Who, at the moment, is having trouble with water in his pants. How many adventures does a man attempt with water in his pants? How many wars are started by a man with a leaky dick? How many need to read about it?
Right.
I am fending off small, easily defeated urges to clean up around here. The newspapers, at least, to the recycle bin. Shuffle the paper pile and pay the bills. Find out why I wasn't paid last week. Scan pictures for artandlife. Remember Woody Allen's observation, 90% of success is showing up on time? He said it better than that, but, you know, just do it and it will happen. "Go west young man." Catch a train to the coast, all you have to do is show up with a ticket to spend the rest of your life as or with a California blond. Or an Oregon hippie. Or Bill Gates. So shuffle those papers. Pay those bills. Take a nap.
This is disjointed beyond my disjointed norm. There is a certain dizziness that comes with recuperation, an inability to focus, a lack of ambition to do more than microwave a meal and crawl into bed. I did go down to get the paper, but I drove down. The repaired F3 arrived from Nikon around noon, nice, shiny with a now working metering system. I snapped on a lens and loaded my last roll of black and white film. I have twenty or thirty rolls of assorted color and Tri-X in the refrigerator, but that was the last roll of my Kodak TMY-400. I read this and blink. If the earthquake comes and Oakland burns it will have to flicker through my lens in color. Disaster.
It's raining by the way in this local California land of the blond. I'm watching the rain drip from the power lines outside my window. My view of the lake consists of power lines and dirty beige apartment buildings. Noir California. Noir with sunshine. Love it.
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