I had about four thousand visitors come from Jim Linderman's "Vintage Sleaze" Facebook page, but they did not stay. Fewer people responded to his post on me than to any other he put up that week. I am a niche market, I know, but still, everybody wants to be loved.
So I sit home on a Friday night I had planned to go out. There is a burlesque show at a mostly gay bar in a hippish part of town, and I told some friends I would be there. But I went to the gym and had no shorts, so I came home and was tempted to go drinking but rather got dressed and went back to the Y and then went to Whole Foods and the liquor store and ate cheese and olives while drinking wine before I got into the hot shower. After, I poured more wine and began watching "Midnight in Paris" again. I cooked and ate and finished the film and then it was late and I began drinking scotch. Now it is later than that and I know I won't go out. I will be in bed soon enough.
Besides, Red is coming over tomorrow and I must save some energy for that like a squirrel gathering acorns for the winter. She is just back from six weeks in a minor European state where she did reportedly abhorent things, and now she is ruined and must go to a third-rate Central American country. Or that is how I tell it, at least. But she is coming and I am glad, and we will do something terrible for me, I am sure. More than anything, I hope there will be stories.
I am totally cooked by work and then cooked again by the second job. I have not been in the studio all week. I even failed to respond to an email about shooting with a blind model I have wanted to shoot with for years. She said she would eliminate her fees for me, but I have been too uncertain and tired to respond. I will never see the blind model, I fear.
But I have booked a long weekend in NYC for the Carnal (Autumnal) Equinox, and have written an apologetic note to the Prodigal Girl telling her I will be there. I am going to work with the prototypical instant 8x10 inch film at the Impossible Project headquarters, and I've asked her to come by so that I can make an image of her. I doubt, though, that she will be in town.
Meagan Sample will be out as well. I had hoped to see her, but she will be on the West Coast shooting with, among others, Ed Ross. I hate the thought of it.
And since Q has moved out of the city, I will be there on my own. It is not like there is nothing to do, but not having anyone there is odd. I will feel like the tourist I am.
I must tell you that if I can carve out some time, life seems to be getting more interesting. Even though I have been and am being beaten down to the canvas, more is happening to me than has for a long, long time. It is a living thing. I hope it will continue long enough for me to enjoy it.
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Saturday morning. It is beautiful here. So much promise. So much potential disappointment.
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