Could Have

No reason for this picture.  I might like it less soon enough. 

Days drag on, me on edge.  I feel that I've run into a streak of bad luck.  Much of it is with the house, but I am doing all the things I'd rather eschew.  Dentists.  Doctors.  Money managers.  I find myself thinking about losing weight with dread.  I will quit drinking.  I will fast once a week.  After work, I come home tired.  Just a glass of wine.  Just something for the nerves.

I think of Hemingway, of Faulkner, of Fitzgerald.  Jesus.

Hurricane season is upon us.  It seems there is nothing but worry.

And then, of course, I've waited too long to have a famously creative life, and there is no going back.  I would have it otherwise.

And still, I like this picture.  Anyone could have taken it.

But they didn't.