By the Dawn's Dirty Light

I almost went mad yesterday, I think.  I did some things, showed the signs.  I knew that I had begun to lose control and needed to get it back, so I went for a run.  When I got home, I showered and began cleaning up the house, throwing (more) things away.  I began organizing an office that was piled high with miscellaneous uncut negatives in every format, random Polaroids and prints.  And after that, I went shopping for what I've really needed, practical things, not luxuries.  Still trembling, I went to the gym and then to the grocery store to get the ingredients for the evening's dinner with mother.  Then it was time to cook.  It was all I knew to do, really, just to stay busy.  It is a madness brought on by frustration, I think.  Events have taken new twists at the factory so that I am in more danger than ever before, and I see no way out of taking the beatings I've avoided until now.  I can't find a way around this one.  I've been wanting to change creative directions but find myself unable to begin.  Done with one project, I've not started another.  The studio sits useless, a money hole unless I spend a small fortune on a big Epson 44" printer.  I can feel the dollars being sucked from my bank account.  My camera repair genius has given up on Frankencamera, so yesterday I packed off the Graflex RB and the Kodak Aerostar and all the fixings to the one man in America who can make it happen.  Along with a check.  When I informed him that it would be there Wednesday and that I felt like a kid waiting on Christmas, he told me not to get too excited, that he has a couple of other projects going on just now and that he needs to find his inspiration.

Too much is out of my control, it seems.  That is all I can make of this.  I could close the studio, forget about the camera, go back to working on the factory floor, and let my new creative adventures be painting the house, landscaping, and cleaning.  Sell the cameras and supplies.  The monthly savings would be. . . a lot.

Dinner with mother, however, was a tremendous success.  I pressure cooked a chicken with onions and carrots and wine, salt, pepper, both red and black, and served it over jasmine rice with asparagus, a mixed spring salad covered in avocado and garlic with some crispy vinegar marinated cucumbers on the side. Grolsch for mother and a Sav Blanc for me.

But the madness was still with me, and when she left, I tried to quell the demons.  I began too early and tried too hard.  This morning, the madness is still there.  No matter how much I purge and clean, nothing looks different.  Everything is worn, dated, a crumbling chaos.  Dump it all, I think, until there is only a shell, and begin again.  Cut to the bone.  I have not succeeded. Time to run.

Rather, though, I will take a shower, put on my uniform, go to work, keep my mouth shut and take whatever comes.  You know what I mean.  You've done it, too.

And the world appears. . . in the dawn's dirty light.