Onward

I woke this morning in a bad way, a heaviness upon me.  I want to be alone with myself for awhile.  I always am, but I don't always desire it.  I don't want to think about anything, not photography, not work, not paying the bills nor the maintenance of the house.  I want to lie on the couch in some soft velvet haze, watch movies, and sleep.

I want to dream that I will not die, that I will be loved.  Worse.  I want to dream that I am wonderful, that my life is a Bartle Bull novel.  I want to fill the house again with rich exotic foods, to pile up pillows and wear silk pajamas.  I want to know that I am missed.

You know what I mean.  It happens to all of us.  And we all believe we feel it more deeply than do others.  I mean "us girls."  My male friends tell me I have too much estrogen.  Perhaps.  Well. . . how much is too much?  I have enough, I assume.  I have plenty.  And today nature is sympathetic.  It is gray and weepy.  I am tired of the hustle.  Tired of trying to cajole and please.  Tired of taking into consideration everything about others.  Tired of calculating what it will take to get what I want.  Tired of negotiating, tired of. . . .  And so on.

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This photograph is so lovely.  I have been staring at it since I made it yesterday.  There has never been anything like this before.  There will never be again.  The film is gone.  And now that I am having Frankencamera made so that I can continue to work with the Fuji instant film, (just as had happened with the Polaroid conversion camera--the Razzle--that I had made in Australia to work with Polaroid 4x5 film the day before Polaroid announced that it would no longer make the film!), Fuji announces that it is discontinuing its instant film.  I am cursed, truly.

I want some respite.

Onward.