This was part of my color film experiment--bleach bypass. I've warmed the tone up a bit in Photoshop. The negatives came out very cold. I may try to experiment a bit more. I have an idea of mixing bw fix and color blix. But I am pretty sure it will still be too cool for my taste.
I want to give up the morning opine. It is nothing. I need to actually write. Why don't I? I have time. I have no job, no girlfriend, nothing to keep me from writing. I've become lazy these Covid years. But I'm shaking myself gently out of that. I painted the apartment stairs yesterday. Part of them. I am going to finish that up today in just a bit. The weather is so perfect here now, but it will change on Saturday, and the air will become warm and moist. So I will finish up my projects as soon as I can.
Now to carve out time for writing. I've been writing more in my head, but if it doesn't make it to paper, it is gone. It is a matter of telling myself what I see. Nothing astounding, just what is around. A woman in a black t-shirt with angel wings printed across the back. A dirty, disheveled man in baggy pants smoking the butt end of a cigarette sitting on the planter outside the grocery store staring people in the eye as they pass. A feral, one eyed cat nervously sniffing around the garbage container behind the grocery store. The names of things.
I did some editing on photos I took for someone yesterday. When that was done, I looked through old photoshoots from the studio days. I got overwhelmed and had to stop. There is still so much there. Too much. I used to be productive.
The air is perfectly clear, a dry 68 degrees. The birds are singing loudly. Everything is bright and green. I should be going out with my camera, but I will paint the stairs instead. That is life. Making decisions. Doing the work.
And music. I meet the kids from the factory tonight for dinner and drinks. After work, of course.