Control Issues

The world is changing quickly.  Buckle up.  Q, moving from Cali back east by the Great Circle Route, had a medical emergency on his way, but he has now apparently, reached his final destination with his new bride, and they couldn't be happier if photos are any indication.  It has been my suspicion that they have been trying to avoid the law, and perhaps that is the source of their joy.  I don't really know.  Information is scarce.  He's never said why he was moving nor if he is still gainfully employed.  He must be, however, for yesterday he sent a photo of himself and his new bride giddy in their new neighborhood grocery store.  It was, I assume, a great relief to them both to find they could buy wine on Sunday at the Whole Foods store.  

Junior was not to be seen.  

For myself, the day began with a series of texts with the girl who has not commented on my playlist.  From previous texts, I knew she had a full day of fun on Saturday--brunch, billiards, and bars--so I sent a text asking, "How's your hangover?"

"How'd you know?!"

She needed grease, she said, having yet to leave her bed.  

"Cheeseburger," I wrote, but she said it was too early for any of the hamburger places to be serving.  It got me thinking about McDonald's, though, and through the "power of suggestion," I ended up getting an Egg McMuffin for the third time in as many weeks.  I had not eaten at a McDonald's for over two decades before I began this apparent obsession.  Seventeen grams of protein in a 310 calorie breakfast.  Look it up.  I don't know how they do it, but that shit is really good.  

I fear I have become addicted.  

Oh--and only $4!  Goodbye expensive diners.  

After that, though, I decided on a mimosa and a nap.  I'd been awake long enough.  And thus, all my plans for some human interaction so that I might have something to say on the blog evaporated.  It was a third day of no real human contact and nothing in the way of exercise.  I had, however, commmitted to making a spaghetti dinner for my mother, so just before the weather broke and the deluge came, I hurried to the grocery store.  

Back home I soaked and showered.  Life on replay.  I putzed around with pictures and made the one you see today of an Ikea lamp that sits in my dark den.  I had decided that I would have to photograph my "surroundings" as I go nowhere and do nothing.  I took the photo with my new digital medium format camera.  It has a bigger dynamic range than any of my other cameras.  Fascinating, eh?  All that means is it is hard to photograph a lamp that is turned on because there is a great value difference between the brightness of the bulb and the darker things around it.  This camera makes it easier.  I liked the picture right away, especially with the red highlight in the corner.  

My life.  

I went to mother's.  Hadn't seen her in a couple days as we've both been feeling ill.  I think we are suffering from the same illness and wonder if it is Covid or some mosquito borne disease.  

"How are you feeling?" we each asked.  

Fading with the light.  

As I cooked, my mother tried on the new sandals I had bought for her on Amazon.  They are the same ones she has.  She wanted a new pair but couldn't find them in the shoe stores. . . or wherever she looks.  I must admit, I haven't gone shopping in stores for years now.  I have little reason.  I just ordered two more pairs of cheap Chinese "linen" shorts and six Hanes t-shirts online.  I ordered my mother's sandals as well.  

"Well. . . shit. . . . " I heard her say.  "They don't fit.  One of them is wider than that other one.  Weird."

"I'll send them back and exchange them."

She was disappointed though.  

Dinner was a winner.  We ate and drank and talked and laughed and listened to samba on Amazon music.  

Back home, I pulled out some photo books and had another gander.  I looked at the big photographers and some who are not so well known.  Winnogrand, Shore, Eggleston.  I looked and I studied and I decided I have a lot of good photos that I need to get together in one place.  I keep trying, but I am as disorganized as a madman.  I need to take another stab at it.  I almost have the surf series done.  It is done.  I just keep trying to do more.  There is never really an end point, and I simply need to stop.  I have a surf series and I have Lonesomeville.  If you remember, I made a book of some of the gentler early Polaroid images.  One copy.  I picked it up and looked at it.  It looked better than it had before.  Typical.  I haven't any confidence in the things I do.  Next, I need to put my street/documentary stuff together in some order.  I don't know the order yet.  There isn't one series there but several.  I know I have some very enviable stuff.  

I picked up a giant book of August Sander's portraits.  I thought I needed to get the big cameras out and do this.  I thought this for the thousandth time.  But it is difficult.  Everything about shooting with large format cameras is work, so much so, I lose faith in my ability to pull it off.  I remembered, however, that the film prof still wants me to make some photos of him.  I should do that to see how it turns out.  I have ideas.  

I have too many ideas and not enough chutzpah.  

Inspired, I worked up a couple more photos, then I watched the last of the series "A Gentleman in Moscow," based on the book.  I don't recommend the eight episode series, but the ending made me cry.  I think most endings do.  I am a huge emo baby, and it has gotten worse.  

I read this morning that the nighttime temperatures in Las Vegas do not fall below 95 degrees this summer.  As I said, our world is changing rapidly, and it seems as if we are on the brink of many wars and myriad pandemics.  Covid is a given now.  You can't escape it.  Schools will open soon and diseases will spread rapidly from the gatherings of those dirty little grubbers.  The markets crash, cities die, and there is nothing we can do but watch and hope knowing we as an individual have no control.  They recall the meat you have eaten and kill chickens by the hundreds of thousands due to bird flu.  

What can you do but turn up the a.c., turn on the television, and watch the Olympics like a moron.  

"Oh my God. . . did you see that?  Steph Curry?  My God, he sure can shoot the ball, can't he?  Katy Ledecky and Simone Biles, huh?  Did you see how fast people can run and swim now?  And what about soccer.  My God, honey, this has been a GREAT OLYMPICS.  I'm so happy for Paris, you know?  They needed this."  

"I think we're out of scotch." 

Oops.  There I go again.  Opining.  

I told you I have been suffering from depression, but I didn't tell you about the anxiety attacks, did I?  I had two of them.  Gripped, I couldn't bring myself down and relied on. . . well. . . some medicine that one of my anxiety-ridden girlfriends had left behind.  I feel o.k. now, but I can't get it out of my mind.  

There are so many things over which we have little or no control.  

I need to get out.  I'm sure of it.  

I go to the doc in a bit to get another injection in my knee.  

"See?  You're taking care of things.  There's a bright direction there."