Everything Is Elsewhere

Sunday night. . . I'm sad and resigned.  Relieved, perhaps, too.  Clouds move in and night falls early.  Wind and hard rain are coming soon.  I spent Saturday night and Sunday morning in the studio shooting with women who deserved more than I gave them.  Excited, I downloaded the photos, then. . . dropped.  What happened?  Did I lose my eye?  My sense?  I wanted to cry.

I was to shoot and have dinner tonight as well, but I was half prepared for what came and could have predicted it.  G.G. flaked.  I understand a lack of commitment.  Trust me.  What I never am able to reconcile, though, is the backing away from it once it is made.  I don't understand it, but that doesn't mean I am silly enough not to understand that it is now a norm with a certain segment of the culture.  "Certain segment."  Did I really write that?  Jesus.  Soon I will be writing statements like, "Throughout human history. . . ."  But as I used to say. . . Selavy.

Now the darkness.  No dinner with mother tonight.  She called and left a message from New York.  She was sitting in Central Park people watching.  Old mom at eighty-two, just like television, just like the movies.  She will wonder why she hadn't gone before.

The tree branches begin to jump.

I can't say I am disappointed, really.  I am tired and there is relief in having to do no more.  It is a lonely night no matter where you are right now.  People have left town.  The streets, bars, and restaurants are empty.  There is a hollow emptiness to everything here.  Everything is elsewhere now.  Summer has begun.

I will read and drink and wait for t.v.  "Silicon Valley," "Game of Thrones," "Mad Men."  I don't want to look at any of the things I shot now.  I will hope the pictures heal themselves by morning.  I will take a Xanax to go to sleep and hope for better and more tomorrow.