I'm not thinking of making movies. I've been thinking an hour or two every week writing here and shooting pictures, one hopes better in the future than in the past, and I'm not particularly worried about where these pursuits may lead - not something you worry about because, if you do, you don't have the gumption to do them in the first place - but I'm also realizing how important my disposition and physical well being are to writing and photography (and getting out of bed in the morning). A larger dose of the electric little pills and more consistency in my walking to work every morning? I might do that. Well, maybe I might do that, particularly on a day like today with the sun shining and the recognizable symptoms of spring cleaning coursing through my veins. (Where did I put those vacuum cleaner bags, Ms. Emmy, vacuum phobic little cat?)

What brought that on? Again.

Well, I ask myself why I have seven rolls of black and white film, four of them already loaded into the developing tanks, sitting on my sideboard; sitting on my sideboard now for three months? Two months? A sign of depression or a sign I don't want to develop no stinkin' film? What am I going to do about it? They say exercise and diet: walking and eating the occasional apple. Growing up in Washington State we give apples unusual gravitas.

Sunday. A trip over to Telegraph near the campus after spending a couple of hours at the office. A good morning, the sun shining and it's about one o'clock. Some things I've done recently:

• I saw Sideways last Saturday. I understand why people have been recommending it, why I'm recommending it. One of those little films that reveal one of the secrets of life: sometimes you're up, sometimes you're down, and wine, in all its various permutations, can cushion the ride.



• I've been buying photography books. Bought a copy of Tokyo Love: The Summer of 1994 by Nan Goldin and Nobuyoshi Araki which led me to buy The Devil's Playground by Goldin and Araki by Araki, since I was unfamiliar with their work. Very much liked what Araki did with his portraits in Tokyo Love, although many find them less than satisfying. Still, it's a book I pick up often and particularly favor the portraits contributed by Araki. Araki, although it's filled with naked women, seems less interesting to me than his Tokyo Love portraits. Also bought a copy of Portraits by Helmut Newman, published in 1987. What little I've seen of Newman's fashion photography (leather and whips) has left me unmoved, but this group of his portraits changed my opinion.



• I've been watching more movies from Netflix. Can't remember, at the moment, a single one.

Postscript: One should not wander down the street on a Sunday evening to a sushi restaurant you've not visited before after consuming your usual ration of sake in the apartment, because you are liable, when asked, to order more. Than you should.