Saturday, August 1, 2020

August, the Mundane, and Beautiful Disasters

Welcome to August.  I began writing a blog post last night, but I am going to wait to finish it.  It wasn't topical, not time sensitive, and I want to use a photo that I don't have yet with it.  The one I was going to use is too specific and literal.  Just letting you know that I do think sometimes.  On the rare occasion.

I am late to the party today.  I didn't get out of bed until after eight.  I slept well until four-thirty when some industrial grinding sound woke me up.  I think.  It might have been part of a dream.  I believe that I was awake, though, lying in bed trying to figure out what was going on.  Then the sound went away.  I got up and drank some water and went to the bathroom and went back to bed.  And thought.  Dreamed.  Think/dreaming.  I'd think about something and then come to to another dream wondering how I got there.  Then I'd think and wake. . . . At six, I thought to get up and get the day started, but that is when I fell back to sleep.  Had a hell of a time finally getting up.

In my thinking dreams, I re-imagined my old Polaroid process and wondered why I hadn't tried to apply it to other films.  I knew why, but something occurred to me there in the dark that I mulled over in my half-consciousness.  I couldn't be sure I was making sense, but I was anxious to try it.  Fortunately and impossibly, I remember it all.  How often does that happen?  I think it might be interesting, but odds are very poor that it will yield a good result.  The exciting part is that I was thinking/dreaming of it and remember the whole thing.  So, not a bad restlessness in the end.


I made Carbonara last night.  It is only the second time in my life.  I don't remember the first time, but I'm pretty sure there was one.  I stopped at Fresh Market and bought some slices of freshly sliced bacon, fried them up outside on the grill burner, and crumbled them.  I sautéed garlic in the grease and dumped the cooked spaghetti in with two whipped eggs.  I topped it all with shavings from a block of cheese.  It was pretty darn good, I'd say, but next time I will add red pepper flakes and use an arugula topping.  It won't be long.  But that was my Friday night party.  Dinner for one.

I'm sick of it.

I did something yesterday that I have never done before.  I sold a camera for a profit.  I have made a life of looking for camera bargains and getting them reasonably.  All my cameras and lenses were bought used.  And now, I have so many I can't begin to use them all.  I've been trying during this Time of Covid, but it truly is impossible.  And I want a new camera.  Now that I don't have an income, though, I find myself becoming prudish about spending money.  I had a stern conversation with myself and said that I would have to sell something before I could buy something.  So I put my Hasselblad Xpan up for sale.  Yesterday, I got a good offer and took it.  Yesterday afternoon, I picked up my last roll of film that I shot with it at the photo store and got a twinge.  Why did I sell it?  It is such a rare and unique camera.  As I pack it up to ship it, I have my regrets.  I'm not even sure if I want the other camera now.  I always have buyers remorse, but this is my first experience at seller's remorse.

Still, I made a lot of money.  I wish I were more interested in making money.  I've never been.  I'm more interested in what I can do with it than how to get it.  But I am becoming economically conservative.  I am getting ready to cancel my cable service.  It is expensive and I never watch commercial t.v. except for the news.  Otherwise, everything is on Amazon, Netflix, or YouTube.  I am not willing to pay for the other stuff any more.

And still. . . I hesitate.

Today is bright and beautiful.  It is the day before the storm.  We will begin feeling the effects of the hurricane tomorrow and that will last through Monday.  It is hard to enjoy something so beautiful when you know the disaster behind it, but that, I believe, has been the story of my life.  I've always found beautiful disasters to be irresistible.  That is love, however, and this is weather.  I have PTSD after suffering through Hurricane Charlie who brought so much disaster to my home and checkbook.  When the skies turn dark and the wind picks up, I experience a primal, hard to dispel terror.  The next few days--nay--the next few months, will be very, very rough.

It is late and the day is underway out there.  I can feel it.  I need to pack up my camera and send it on its way to the lucky lad who purchased it.  And then, I need to take my Leica and saunter while the light is good.  I am documenting the mundane and the ordinary.

I mean, someone has to do it.

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