For all my bitching about my aching head, I have made progress on ArtandLife over these last couple of weeks (none of it has been uploaded yet). Mr. Post, stranded for the moment somewhere over on the other side of the Atlantic on his Greek island, has turned out an outstanding design and I am much appreciative. Now I need to resize and reshuffle all the photographs. Strange to go back to some of the old negatives and notice how many of them were badly exposed and out of focus. The film shooting got better as the time passed, but the year 2000 was not a good year from looking through my archives. Still, for whatever reason, I've had the energy and the ambition to move forward, which is a reason I say, aching head or not, I otherwise feel pretty good.

Sunday. I'm having trouble putting things down on paper, I'm afraid. It takes too long and I'm not willing to make the effort to write something clever and wonderful about all the things I consider clever and wonderful. Mr. Bush and his administration seem to have moved us from tragedy into the realms of darkness and despair, all in the flick of an eyelid. I gives you insight into what must have happened to the Roman Empire, except the Romans, decadent and depraved as they're portrayed, took centuries to fail. We seem to be having a go at it in the space of two Presidential terms. Questions about Arab companies owning terminal facilities at US ports reflect in some strange way the internal biases, small town fears and less than solid grip on reality we're all facing. I could write about these things. I could distill my thoughts - something they tout as a benefit in keeping a journal - something I've experienced first hand, but I have neither the clear headed focus or the desire. I write of aching teeth and sinuses. It seems appropriate.

This Sunday has been a day of sleeping late, staying inside, reading the paper and taking a short early afternoon drive in the rain that resulted in the purchase of a bottle of diet Coke and additional miles on the car. A need to get out of the apartment that seems to have dissipated after no more than twenty minutes. No work today on the web sites, but a couple of hour long naps with public radio mumbling in the background. The consumption of the half bottle of sake left over from last evening - a half bottle of sake seeming an excellent balance between abstinence and alcoholism - has made me mellow, although I am sitting here thinking I should get it together for another sake run. I doubt I'll do it. Saved by sloth.

I'm surprised at how few weekends I spend doing little or nothing. There seems to be this need to do something: shoot pictures, upgrade a computer, do my taxes, vacuum the rug. In my past lives, taking naps, watching a little television wasn't something to think about, it's the way you spent a (successful) weekend. I've been trying to get through the Bridget Jones movie this afternoon. I am finding it difficult. The book launch scene where she apologizes to Salman Rushdie and Lord Someone Or Other I find torturous to watch. I keep turning it off. English comedy has a high tolerance for looking perfectly stupid in front of strangers, something that obviously drives me up the wall. Something I should examine in myself.

I say I don't mind looking (or writing) the idiot, but obviously scenes such as these in Bridget Jones push my buttons. I have this very Puritan attitude one should work on one's buttons. If I am unusually sensitive to scenes of social embarrassment, well then, I should expose myself to scenes of social embarrassment. (Notice I did not say participate in scenes of social embarrassment!) It's said this makes for a better individual. Bullshit. I think I'll just return the movie, return it for whatever else I have in my Netflix queue. Something uplifting like Kung Fu Fighters of the Purple Dawn. Do any of you have difficulty finding films to add to your Netflix queue? I do.