What Does It Mean?

  

Well kids, yesterday did not pan out.  Had I taken drugs the night before I wrote that I was feeling the onset of creativity?  Are premonitions not to be trusted?  

The car which I was told did not need brake work now needs brakes.  And a starter.  And there is something going on that I didn't know that they need to figure out.  I am without my car for a third day.  

I got back two rolls of color film.  I will not shoot color film again except maybe in larger format cameras. It just isn't worth it.  Twenty-six dollars (plus the cost of the film) and the pictures suck.  I can do as much with my digital cameras.  I can make nice black and white photos with my Leica Monochrom, too.  Still, I might shoot black and white as I can develop it myself and there is a thrill running the film through my beautiful Leica M.  

Here are a couple photos from the rolls.  I came across this on a walk.  I haven't a clue as to what this shrine commemorates, but it was spooky enough to suggest ju-ju.  I hope being in the broken mirror didn't presage bad luck.  I've had enough of that. 

I made a mistake and got onto the scale at the gym yesterday.  Oy!  I knew it, and that is why I have stayed off the scales, but now something must be done.  I can't attack it all at once.  Ten pounds.  I'll start with trying to lose ten pounds.  My diet is already good, so I know what I have to do.  I won't do it completely, but I will do something.  I have to.  I am hideous. 

I got my second Shingrex shot yesterday.  "You might have a slight fever tonight," the pharmacist said.  "It is nothing to worry about."  Sure.  Fevers aren't a bad thing.  By nightfall, I was feeling really punky.  I had a difficult time sitting up and watching the NCAA Tournament on t.v.  I took two Tylenol and half a nerve pill before bed, but even then, I could not sleep.  I took the other half.  Still didn't work.  I tossed and turned all the live-long night.  I remember what passed for dreams.  They were not fun.  I took two more Tylenol.  I stayed in bed as long as I could.  The ticking of the clock.  The empty house.  A nightlight in a distant room.  The hum of the air filter.  The cold comfort of an extra pillow.  Thoughts of my approaching mortality.  That is what I have to counter the night terrors.  Sometimes I am swallowed by it.  

Jesus.  Last night I told myself I would begin to write more seriously.  I would let Hemingway and Salter be my influences.  That was the last thing I thought before the giant lizards started eating me.  I will have to practice some today.  Maybe a cafe, some tea, something heard or seen.  

I will try.  I will try to do much better.