The world is too weird for me now. Trump is a genius. He has liberals siding with America's intelligence agencies. We're pulling for a porn star/stripper to bring him down. We're a hell of varied menagerie.
My Zen didn't last long. My mind began devouring itself around 2:30 last night. There is no stopping it. It has become Jabba the Hutt--insatiable. In the darkness, I think there is no way to survive. In the morning. . . just one thing at a time.
Of all the things I've lost, my self-confidence. . . yada, yada, yada.
I never mentioned the first roll of film I shot with the Olympus XA4 I was so excited about. It sucked. Not the camera. It worked fine. But there wasn't a single image I would pretend to use for any purpose on it. Since I got the film back, the camera has stayed in the bag. I figure that if I want to be a good photographer, I better by another camera. Right? That's how you get to be a great artist. You just have to keep buying things.
Having not slept, I lay in bed too long this morning and now must make myself start the day. I have been desperately lazy for days and have gotten nothing that I needed to do done. I looked it up. It is called a "malaise." I have it, I am certain.
It is nice to write to you in the mornings, though. You are my only friends. You are all I have.
(Oh, the poor old fucker.)
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