I spent the day waiting for a hurricane. Not really, but I thought that the Weather Chanel couldn't be so far off that it wasn't even going to rain, so I prepared for a day inside. Stupid. Really, really stupid. Never, ever rely on the Weather Chanel. They are liars pure and simple. Either that, or they are morons. It barely rained. By afternoon, I even saw a patch of blue sky.
It wasn't even a hurricane.
I am not complaining about that. I am glad. I'm just pissed that I wasted a day.
But it wasn't really wasted. I sat at the computer and worked on an idea I have had. I've always wanted to make pastel photographs. I lost myself in invention. I drank coffee and Machadas. I didn't even eat. I just kept working at making the colors what I wanted. It was a long process, but I learned much. I think I have found a "signature." I'm not sure how I will use it yet. It doesn't work for everything. But there are certain subjects that are ripe for it. Now I must decide if I truly like the look and when do I use it and how much. It certainly works for anything that is tropical.
All in all, I am pleased and proud.
In the end, the day was not a waste at all.
This photograph, by the way, is in what used to be the shopping area of the black part of my ritzy town. Zora Neal Hurston mentions it in "Sweat." Maybe in other places, too. I am no Hurston scholar. But it was where "colored people" went to go to "the stomps." Dances. For most of my life here, there was a bar where you could buy Colt .45 Malt liquor in the 16 oz. cans for less than a dollar sitting at the bar. There was a "Gimme a dollar" man who would pester you there. It was not a place for white people, but they served you if you went. It has been gone for years, replaced by a yuppy bar in the redevelopment of the area.
This yard is just a block away from that place. It is the last holdout on this street. All around it are redeveloped buildings and rich white people places. I've never seen anyone out in this yard sitting in those chairs, but it always looks impeccable. One day, I might just inquire.
Tonight and tomorrow are predicted to be rainy. So it seems. I will have to go with that. No photography, but I will have to exercise. Now that I have a new process, though, I am anxious to see if I can make photos for it. Pastel Covid Time.
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I wake this morning to the Hurricane That Never Came. But oh, man, did I prepare. I started drinking early and watched this last night (link), the story of Leonard and Marianne. I cried twice, once in the beginning and once at the end. In between, it was another rollicking ride through the crazy times of sex and drugs and music.
This morning when I got up, made my coffee, and sat down with the laptop, I looked over and saw this.
Apparently, I had a party. I feel puffy. Do I look puffy? I may need to quit drinking. I don't know what I will do instead. Just look at the sharp edges of reality all the time, I guess, and become a bore/boar/boor.
Have you noticed that all the lefty columnist are now writing op eds that Sleepy Joe shouldn't debate Crazy Donald? Yea, the satellite is watching me. They are following the blog. They are also warning of making the wrong VP choice. Again. . . .
Now it is time to make up for yesterday. I need to move. Apparently, I have a lot of calories to burn. Until then. . . Selavy.