Reflections of a Man Leaving Home

This is one of the four 4x5 negatives I took to the photo lab.  I was right.  I am totally disappointed.  I shot this with the same Polaroid camera I shot all my "cool" Lonesomville Polaroids with.  I bought an adapter for it from "Lo-Fi" that let's me shoot 4x5 film with it.  Otherwise, the camera is useless.  They don't make film for it anymore.  So I have a walkaround 4x5 camera I can use on the street.  Yay!  Look what I can do!

It is shit.  

Here's the kicker.  I bought into a Kickstarter thing for a developing tank for 8x10 film that will let me develop 16 4x5 negatives at a time.  A year ago.  It has finally shipped.  WTF was I thinking?  My God, I am a desperate man.  

I DID use my Chamonix 4x5 camera to shoot film with, too.  It does a much better job.  It is just a really complicated camera to use, especially if you shoot the same film twice. 

Double exposure, one horizontal, one vertical.  Whatever.  

I have one 8x10 camera that is meant for studios and not very portable.  I have several 4x5 cameras including the big Black Cat Liberator made by John Minnicks, a studio 4x5 camera that is not useful for going out, a Graflex 4x5, two converted Polaroid SE cameras, one Polaroid Land camera I had converted to shoot 4x5, and my latest purchase, a Chamonix field camera which is a real gem, but. . . . 

I'm a real doozy, I am.  That's just a small part of my camera collection, and it is basically going to sit around on shelves until I get a bug up my butt again.  

I must have the Nerd gene.  

O.K.  I'll get a cup of coffee now and tell you about yesterday.  Wait.  What?  Where are you going???  I'll tell you about today, then.  I'll tell you about tomorrow!

This is my last night at home.  My wasted homelife is coming to an end.  I've enjoyed doing nothing, I think, just being with my things.  The "boys" are throwing me a "going away party" tonight.  Sort of a bon voyage.  I may not be seen again for years.  

Then tomorrow morning, my cousin leaves and I will be on duty.  People tell me that is not fair.  To me.  They say I should put my mother in a "place" and rent out her house to help defray some of the cost.  That's what they did, they say.  In truth, I never thought about the rental part.  But I can't do it.  I can't just wave my mother into the sunset.  

What do they say about sacrifice?  Isn't it suppose to be good for the soul?  

I'm going to need to admit that I am living at my mother's house this time and not carry a tote bag back and forth every day.  I need to set up there for more comfort.  Maybe I'll put an a.c. unit in her garage and turn it into a makeshift studio.  The problem with that is I would have to face my increasing lack of talent.  It might just drive me into a further depression.  I don't know yet.  First I'll just have to get back into the groove.  My cousin has taken my mother out every day for lunches, shopping, worship, the works.  My mother is doing better, I think, because of that.  I'll feel guilty now if I don't.  

Piss shit fuck goddamn go to hell sonofabitch. . . . 

I had to give up saying "cocksucker" after calling someone that around my gay colleagues.  That was an awkward moment.  

That's what I have other than a tale of adventure and daring at the Post Office yesterday.  But I'll spare you that, at least.  

I may have to quit the blog.  Nobody wants to read The Adventures of a Reluctant Caregiver.  The Mother Tales.  The Lost Life of an Old Man.  

Etc. 

Seriously, though.  It will be hard to keep embarrassing myself day after day after day.  Maybe I'll try writing something serious, but it would take much more time to parse something out of any length.  I could challenge myself to a post a week, maybe.  Little researched assignments.  My observational life is going to be very minimal, and everything I am really interested in is now, by and large, taboo.  Sure, I know what you are going to say, but why would I expose myself to that?  I don't need any more disapprobation.  There was a time. . . but now it just isn't healthy.  I'm not as solid as I used to be, and truly, I am drawn to the furthest margins of acceptability, so. . . I choose to refuse disclosure any longer.  

I still have SOOOO many pictures that will never be seen, so many tales that will never be told. . . so many opinions I will no longer offer.  I can't say this to the left, I can't say that to the right, and I'm no Goldilocks.  

I'll have plenty of time to consider.  Would you all like to see some botanical prints?  Canine portraits?  Images of geometric patterns in nature?  What about cool car pics?  Sunrise or sunset?  The blank reflections of mirrors in mirrors?  String art?  Different kinds of fabrics?  

Fuck, man. . . just let your imagination run wild!

Maybe just photos of my mother and I on our steadfast marches to the grave.  That should cheer everyone up.  

O.K. Enough of that.  Maybe I'll just catalog old photographs and make up shit about the past.  

Probably.  That's what old men do. 

That and sitting in the garage listening to old radios.