Feel good. I have a birthday next week, this being the last full calendar year I will be in my fifties. "...by an old fart in his late fifties." will no longer be an appropriate moniker for the journal. "By an old fart in his early sixties" sounds flat and what is this "early" business? Separate ourselves from those really old folks, like people in their mid sixties? Their (dear god) late sixties? Not enough alliteration. Maybe "...by an odd sod in his sixties." or "an old sot in his sixties." One must not complain. One is always lucky to be alive, still be alive, at whatever age, but luckier still with every year that passes. Not really depressing so much as curious. My, my. What have I come to? This can happen to moi? Why, yes it can. It has.

Later. I drove down to Beverages and More in Jack London Square and bought another double bottle of Wild Turkey, on sale today for $19.95. Do your shopping old man, trot down to that discount house and buy your bottle of whiskey, clutch it close as you take it home for your one parsimonious evening shot with water, take it for your health, take it for your sanity.

I ordered two books from Amazon this morning that describe how various photographers got into the business of selling their pictures. I've always assumed commercial photography was not an option. Wedding photography scares me (I'd have to act like an adult and deliver the goods to the taste of the client. This isn't exactly correct, the really good wedding photographers deliver the goods to their own taste and have plenty of clients, but that's true of all disciplines, the really good get by.) My thought is there might be a market for my parade/event photographs. No money, of course. I sold local interest stuff when I was in college, also for little or no money, but I knew the photo editors of some of the smaller papers in Seattle and they'd occasionally use my stuff. So, the thought behind the "how to sell a photo" books. Can't hurt.

I've also started making prints again. Not many, but I received another load of ink and paper last week and I'm actually heating up the Epson. (Portland, you will get your prints pretty quick, promise! Cousin Steve, you too, even though you've written me off as a hopeless flake.) With the thought of making more prints has come the thought of learning to frame them. Photographs need frames, it's one of those non negotiable items, so I need tools and knowledge.

I also want to put together a portfolio (which involves matting, which is halfway to framing, so you see the connection) and that too led me to Amazon. Two books about framing, two books about the business. How to sell that out of focus Polaroid print for a million dollars! And, with the sale, how to frame that million dollar print for the office. The million dollar office. Right next to the lottery cottage.

Another step in this ever so slow procession toward nailing down this hobby of mine. I make prints, I need to make better prints. If I matt the prints and build a portfolio (cause a guy needs a portfolio) well, then, I'll be forced to examine them with a more critical eye, make improvements. And if I'm matting prints for a portfolio, well, why not add a frame and put them on the wall, any old wall? Ways to vary the mix, keep up the interest. One of these days, the walls will be covered with framed amazement, says an old fool pushing sixty, going on twenty five.