Quel Dommage

I usually get about five times as many visitors on the days I don't post as on the days I do.  Weird, I think.  I don't get as many as I used to, of course, now that I am posting pictures of old men in hats.  Why is that?  No matter.  I plan to begin writing more narratives soon, little stories and tales from a life lived somewhat in the margins, a sort of working class son's rebellion gone not quite right and not quite wrong.  If I can manage it, that is the plan.  I know, though, how plans go--usually south.  Curious phrase, that.

Breaking down the studio and moving things out is taking much longer than I imagined.  It is mostly because I think too much.  I am a thinker more than a doer.  I wonder about how to do things and imagine other ways.  I sit and look and ponder and occasionally get up and move a piece.  But I will have some help this weekend, and things are certain to move along more quickly then.  I've definitely decided on a storage unit, so the prints and Polaroids will go there.  The amount of stuff in the studio, though--I mean, it is a small house.  I haven't room for most things that are in there.

Selavy.

I have forsaken the news lately.  It holds no interest for me just now.  I was at a holiday party at my bosses house last night that he throws every year for the workers.  It was sparsely attended sadly, but I imagine many people stayed home to watch the debate.  No, I don't imagine that.  But it is a thing I would not have watched for money, and I certainly don't care to read about it today (though that is what dominates even the New York Times this morning).  Avarice and greed and misinformation rule.  I am more interested in Pinochle, though last night at the party, Canasta seemed to be the house favorite.  I might have to reconsider.

I think I will take Friday off and spend the day working in the studio.  Time is running out.  And if I get comfortable with the progress I have made, I will buy a deck of cards and make some cocktails and spend the evening under the glow of the Christmas tree learning the thrills of a game of chance.  This weekend will have to be for doing my shopping.  I am not doing much, just enough to put a few things under the tree.  Small things, silly things.  Even so, it is maddening.

I don't like the picture I have posted today, either.  It has too much contrast and needs a longer tonal curve, something more soothing and gentle.  But I haven't time for that today.  Yes, that photo would look better in pastels.  Quel dommage.