The Illusionist

I think I should be a photographer.  I used to be, I believe, and I, like everyone else, have new tools and have learned new post-production skills.  But this. . . it looks a thousand times more decadent than any nakedness I've ever photographed.  This thing is absolutely terrifying.  It scares me.  What horrible power a photograph can have.  

"You are getting sleepy. . . ."

I went through old files again last night, choosing previously ignored images and cooking them up for viewing.  I can only do a couple a night, and I wonder how, when I was working at the factory, I was able to shoot in the evenings two or three times a week and still get pictures processed for the models to see.  I would play music and go to work, staying up far too late.  I must have been sleep deprived, but I don't remember being so.  And. . . I posted on the blog every morning, too.  

Oh. . . and I never missed a trip to the Physical Fitness Club.  

Where's my trophy?

I haven't had a studio since January 2016.  

* * *

I had to put the break in there lest I become maudlin and begin to whine about the perceived injustices I think I've suffered.  There is never any good use in that.  So. . . .

The maids had the kitchen sparkling.  Within hours, I had it looking in need of cleaning once again.  And I didn't even cook.  I heated up some seafood stew for lunch and got the tomato base everywhere.  I made a huge salad for dinner and got beet juice and avocado smeared here and there as well.  I don't know. . . I'm just a sloppy pig.  I need to build an outdoor kitchen.  

The highlight of my day was going to the cable company to cancel my t.v. package.  I sat for over half an hour waiting on a rep before being told they couldn't do that in the store.  I have to do it over the phone.  The fellow was nice and gave me the number and all the information I will need to do this.  I'll be saving $200/month which seems like a lot until you put it into real purchasing value--one night in a not so fancy hotel.  Am I really trading cable for a night in a hotel.  

Yup.  

Not that I am going anywhere.  I thought I might drive over to the coast today, but now that I'm up. . . I don't think so.  Funny.  I was so excited by the idea last night.  I'm not excited by anything this morning.  

Except that picture.

* * *

I can't seem to get away from it.  That studio was a magical place.  Red wrote last night to tell me so.  

It was a place of great illusion.  That's it!  I was an illusionist, not a photographer.  Nothing is ever what it seems.  There is more that is unknown than is known.  A picture is just a mist before your eyes.  You think you know what you are looking at, but you never do.  It is merely a simple suggestion that you willingly accept.  

"Look into my eyes.  You are getting sleepy. . . ."

Yes, yes. . . I'm sure I'm an unsuspecting Mentalist.  

"On the count of three. . . ."  

Thus the evenings passed, and everyone was happy.