My week continues to devolve. I started to write about it, but it isn't the proper thing to do. I wish it weren't so, but complaining in public is gauche, so I will only mention the complaint in a whining way and not propose the actual complaint itself. It makes me feel better about myself.
I continue to make pictures every day with the same camera and lenses. There are two I am using now. I know what they do and it makes things easier. I have a small, beautiful bag holding a camera and the extra lens. Nothing could be more simple.
I read this article in the paper today.
It didn't cheer me up.
It is late, and I haven't had much sleep. Now I must prepare myself for the factory. I take some grim pleasure in that, I imagine. The touchstone of existence. Etc.