iArtist

It was the usual beautiful Sunday of Spring, a beautiful sidewalk brunch on a quiet street, the recounting of the week with my buddy, texts to people we talked about or had not seen, updates from friends, a walk in the sun, skateboarding. . . and later, dinner with mother.  She came over and ate, but did not stay long.  The whiskey bottle was empty and I thought to leave it that way, but the sun was shining still in the wake of a full day, and I knew that I would want a scotch later, so I drove in the last glowing of the end of another day in Paradise. 

I may stay home from the factory today.  I haven't made up my mind.  I would not mind making this work week shorter, but I have in me such an ingrained guilt about working and not working that it is difficult.  I know others for whom it is not.  I don't necessarily envy them, but today I might emulate them.  A free spring day.  There is much to do and not do.  Sitting in the dark waiting for the sun to rise, I can imagine it all. 

I downloaded a new app on my new phone that makes fake tintypes.  For the moment, I love it for picturing my daily life.  Here is my mother.  Here is the liquor store.  I have a phone full of them.  You will see, I'm sure.  I will become an iPhone photographer.  There is an iArtist in me somewhere.  I just need to dig him out.