The weather's been good today. The walk was fine. When I'm home I listen to too much radio, NPR programs about health and eating and obesity and vitamin supplements and pandemic diseases, not to mention dying salmon, whales, krill and Vietnamese. Soon you're making resolutions: get in that walk, eat more vegetables, lose the ten pounds I gained this last year. No wonder I'm taking naps. I'm surprised I bother to get out of bed.

Somehow I think we've heard this before.

We've heard all of this before. There is nothing new under the sun. The words change, the meaning remains the same. There's billions spent every year encouraging us to buy the same thing we bought last year, but in a different color and in a larger box. From me, you get it for free.

Where is this going?

Somewhere unproductive. I was not happy with the dizzy head and the aching head as I was walking downtown. It doesn't make you want to go out and walk and if you do go out and walk, it doesn't make you want to pay attention enough to look for photographs. Or good looking women along the sidewalk. Or ten dollar bills that just happen to be lying in the road. Or stuff. The idea of walking is to be open to stuff. I'm not open to stuff.

I've thought of stopping the journal. Not particularly seriously, but why not try something different? Has it become a compulsion, a negative influence? Have I already written my best sentence, nowhere to go but down? Hard to say, I only know what's going on is not right, but then again it's not all that wrong either and I'm willing to sit here in stasis listening to the radio growing old(er) and (one hopes) less dizzy.

Tonight I will develop the black and white. I will be tested on this tomorrow morning ("Did you develop the film?") the penalty for failure being to pull up the covers and sleep through breakfast.