Tuesday, July 30, 2019
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.
Posted by cafe selavy at 11:57 AM
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