Always Tomorrow

1974

I'm a little batshit crazy for colorization right now.  I don't think I like "true colors" anymore.  I don't desire to make my colorized pictures seem natural or real.  When the color is just off or a little bit weird, I think it Warholish.  

But I'll get over it.  

I tried to reorganize the book yesterday.  I fell apart doing so.  I have marked up the copy I have and brought out all the prints I made and ordered on the floor to make my decisions.  In looking through the book, I remembered why I chose to order the pictures the way I did, but I'm not sure that it works.  When I started looking at the photos again, I realized that choosing to leave out some of the most daring photographs might be a mistake.  They are too good.  And yet. . . prudence.  Others of the photos that ended up on the cutting room floor reemerged as something I should include.  Then the room began to spin, my heart to pound.  I could barely breathe.  

And that is how I left things yesterday.  Pictures litter the floor.  

I will try again today.  I need to put this thing behind me and move on.  What I need is more than an hour or two at home to work on it.  If I hadn't needed to get back to my mother's house, I would have pushed on and worked through the evening until the thing was done.  As I sat with my mother watching television, that is what I thought.  Again. 

But I did manage to make two exposures yesterday and to develop the film in my kitchen laboratory.  Four negatives ready for scanning will be waiting for me when I arrive.  That big, horrible camera has done something to me.  I can't bring myself to walk around with a small camera machine gunning any more.  

But I'll get over it.  

I have nothing more to report this morning, no stories to tell, no songs to sing, so I'll end it here.  If something occurs to me later on, I will re-post.  If not. . . well, there is always tomorrow.