Second Hand Report

Different film, different technique.  It, too, is an extinct Polaroid film, however, so there is no "future" in this.  I made three images last night in three hours of post-processing.  Each one was thrilling.  Ever so, as someone used to say in times long gone.

Ever the second hand reporter, I am ready to relay to you my one to two sentence accounts of what I read.  I hope it saves you "ever-so-much" time.  And as always, I will suggest what it means.  I am like a preacher in that, giving you the chosen line and then wailing away the way god intended.

And it is just this.  Studies show (I love the phrase) that the economic downturn is having negative effects on the health of Americans just like you and me.  They feel depressed, of course, but it is manifesting itself as somatic issues like higher blood pressure and cholesterol.  Of course, now many can't afford health care, so the problem become exponential.

And I wonder. . . what might be the health issues in really poor populations?  O.K.  I know.  But the girl in this picture is island poor.  She doesn't have a lot of the things you might take for granted.  It doesn't seem so bad on her.  In her father's native land, she can buy an acre or so of nice hillside property close to the ocean for about seven thousand dollars.  Everyone builds houses in stages as they can.  The Dream. Meanwhile, the family all pitches in.  They fish and grow gardens.  And drink rum which is the cheapest of all the liquors.  I know.

She inspires me.  I'm cutting back.  Friends are doing so involuntarily.  I was at a party the other night and a buddy was saying that he mixes Cafe Bustello with his Starbucks in the percolator and can't tell the difference.  Bustello is what--$3 a pound?  I used to drink Bustello all the time, too.  I have become addicted to too many expensive things and it is time to quit it.  I am no Paris Hilton.  I want to be, even if you cannot understand, but I should be London Ramada or something.  Don't Google the name.  It is emblematic.

I checked airfares to Europe yesterday.  Thought to take a trip.  Jesus Marimba.  I don't know.  It is time to get Cowboy Tough, but I've gotten to an age where I want a Room with a View.  I don't enjoy the dives the way I used to.  I'd really like someone to porter my bags, too.  I can feel it coming on, the depression, the ill-health.  I want it all.  I think it is making me sick.