Like Chewing Paper

This is what I face today, of course.  This is what haunts my waking and sleeping vision.  Forms, memos. . . paperwork.  Some of you have escaped this and have transcended into actual experiences.  I hate and envy you.  For those of you who work in the virtual world--ha!  I am, at least, one step closer.

I watched a couple short docs on the photographer Albert Watson last night.  Fuck me.  Why did I ever get a job?  I was a good photographer in college.  Notable.  I coulda/shoulda/woulda. . . .

Yea, yea, yea.  There are always people on the dock and people on the boat.  We know where most people are.

I'm taking my Liberator to Ili's little town some miles to the north.  I have a project in mind.  I will try my idea out today.  If it is worth a poop, you may see some images soon.  If not. . . it goes the way of the Dodo.

I spent a bunch of money buying boxes of the now defunct Fuji 100-C instant film.  I may spend that again.  It is gone from the stores.  When I faced that yesterday, I panicked.  There is still some online.  I need a benefactor.

I read a book review this morning of the re-issueing of "Difficult Women."  Here is my favorite line.  It seems to justify some things in my life:

“Difficult Women” is creepy, it is cruel, it is morally indefensible — and it is exhilarating. As Dylan Thomas wrote: “When one burns one’s bridges, what a very nice fire it makes.”