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July 22nd, 1999
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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,
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.
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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.
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