Quick Reversal

This is from my shoot the other night.  It was the first shot of the evening, and somehow, I realized early on. . . oh. . . I can't tell you. . . it's my secret process.  Anyway, I did something that would make it impossible to turn this into one of the series images.  I had skipped a step.  Tonight, though, I kept looking at the picture and bemoaning the fact, so I decided to bend my particular genius toward the problem and see if I couldn't make it look something like the others.  And after hours of working on it, it sort of did.  And I do like the image much.  I saved it from a sort of artistic death.  I think I, like Thompson, should have an honorary "Dr." in front of my name.

The image is part of the whorehouse musical series I have started.  I'm looking for anything--tubas, bassoons, kettle drums, trombones, cellos, vibes. . . anything at all.  Perhaps in the end, I'll actually record some whorehouse music.  You will be surprised.

I feel the genius more every day that I am not working.  I am not like work.  I am something different than that.  I thought today to tell the people I work with at the factory that I am not like them because I have not lived the life they've lived, that I have done things that they probably wouldn't believe.  You would, but I don't tell them so much of what I tell you which is the value of the invisibility that sometimes pisses Q off so much.  But even he does not know it all.  We veil ourselves from people all the time, do we not?  We are honest to a point, but everybody wants to don the mask, even with those we are most intimate.  The clown mask I wear at work hides almost everything.

Though I've done nothing of any consequence this week, I am beginning to feel happier.  I am happy tonight though the evening slips away from me without note.  It is simply a slow attrition of time.  But an owl calls out and the evening is still and supper still lays before me.  I will eat and work on more pictures and then I'll read.  And then late, I will fall asleep without feeling much emptiness or loneliness.  Tomorrow may be brilliant.  There are many things to do.

*     *     *     *    *     

That is not how it worked out, though.  I slept fitfully, waking first at one o'clock thinking it was morning and then every hour after.  Now I am awake, and I feel irritable.  Poor cat.  She is the only one around to feel it.  She wants love and I want her to leave me alone.  But she won't, and I could scream. What might make me happy today? I don't know if that will be possible.  Such a quick turnaround.