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In the pool across the street looking for trouble.
July 22nd, 1999

One True Sentence
Yesterday, I am informed by watching the news, was the 100th anniversary of Ernest Hemingway's birth. One of the pundits read a quote from A Moveable Feast which said, in essence, that writer's block can be broken by the writing of one true sentence, and, from that sentence, the rest will follow. I liked that. That sounded right, had a ring to it. Now, what sort of truth can I write? Truth comes in many flavors and sizes. What flavor and what size for a Thursday in July? Something bite size leading to five or six paragraphs. I am not, for the moment, encouraged.

The two photographs on this page came off the same roll of film, Mom, in good health, after the crossword
        puzzel. the one roll of film I got back today from the camera shop. The rest will be ready tomorrow. I am not encouraged. There is a certain lack of attention evident on the contact sheet as if I were shooting without enthusiasm, the odd flick of the wrist snapshot taken as an afterthought while walking down the sidewalk focused on lunch and looking for a delicatessen. You can shoot a great photograph with a flick of the wrist while looking for lunch, there are no rules, but it's a flakey approach, not recommended in photographic schools or by people who do the actual shooting. I moaned about this yesterday. I need a project and a night's sleep and I would arrange both for Saturday if I weren't packing.

One true sentence. A need to write one true sentence. And life, is short.

The banner photograph was taken in the pool across the street from my aunt's house in Seattle during the party. Yes, they're the sons of cousins. The second photograph is of my mother who wonders, no doubt, about my photographic fetish.