Work

This was part of my color film experiment--bleach bypass.  I've warmed the tone up a bit in Photoshop.  The negatives came out very cold.  I may try to experiment a bit more.  I have an idea of mixing bw fix and color blix.  But I am pretty sure it will still be too cool for my taste.  

I want to give up the morning opine.  It is nothing.  I need to actually write.  Why don't I?  I have time.  I have no job, no girlfriend, nothing to keep me from writing.  I've become lazy these Covid years.  But I'm shaking myself gently out of that.  I painted the apartment stairs yesterday.  Part of them.  I am going to finish that up today in just a bit.  The weather is so perfect here now, but it will change on Saturday, and the air will become warm and moist.  So I will finish up my projects as soon as I can.  

Now to carve out time for writing.  I've been writing more in my head, but if it doesn't make it to paper, it is gone.  It is a matter of telling myself what I see.  Nothing astounding, just what is around.  A woman in a black t-shirt with angel wings printed across the back.  A dirty, disheveled man in baggy pants smoking the butt end of a cigarette sitting on the planter outside the grocery store staring people in the eye as they pass.  A feral, one eyed cat nervously sniffing around the garbage container behind the grocery store.  The names of things.  

I did some editing on photos I took for someone yesterday.  When that was done, I looked through old photoshoots from the studio days.  I got overwhelmed and had to stop.  There is still so much there.  Too much.  I used to be productive.  

The air is perfectly clear, a dry 68 degrees.  The birds are singing loudly.  Everything is bright and green.  I should be going out with my camera, but I will paint the stairs instead.  That is life.  Making decisions.  Doing the work.  

And music.  I meet the kids from the factory tonight for dinner and drinks.  After work, of course.