I am depressed tonight and I am not sure why. Actually outside of being exhausted beyond belief it has been a pretty good couple of weeks. My garage photo project has done something very strange. I spend my days straightening the house and garage rather than sitting in front of a computer—hey, I even cut the grass and I haven’t done that in probably three years or longer. The couple that has been cutting it separated and he comes one time and she comes the next (not a bad deal since they are each trying to lowball the other's price) but no one came this week so I did it. I had a great photoshoot with David Bahn a few nights ago and want to go back and do it again. I re-upped my membership in the camera club although I probably won’t be able to be very active. Life has been pretty good lately. So why am I depressed?
Photography. Damned photography; it always depresses me. I was reading an interview with Duane Michaels and it all flooded back—the total and abject failure of my foray into photography. It always has been depressing and I feel certain it always will be. No, that’s not right—tomorrow I will forget and forgive and accept—but there is an emptiness that will always be there. It always has been and it always will be. I keep telling myself when such and such happens then… maybe such and such just never happens. Nothing can depress me as much as photography. That’s why I write fiction and read poetry—because photography depresses me. Michaels calls it a itch in the psyche—I wish it were only an itch. Where’s that prescription for Lexapro? Have to go to the doctor in a week or so, maybe we can kick it up a notch or two.
Or am I just coming off a high from my garage containers project? I’m very excited about it, I mean I am really excited. I think it is the best thing that I have done photographically in a very, very long time and I am even thinking about a second project (and book) based on only the containers of photographic equipment. And I am looking forward to Portfolio Challenge. I mean most everything in my life is on the upswing. I am even adapting well to Janet’s new needs and will even stay up till 7am when she wants to. I finally broke down and bought a new stereo system so there is music in the house again, gospel one night and Beethoven the next. I’m holding back on Debussy, everything will be anti-climatic after Debussy and anyway I’ve got to tire of Kitty Wells first- Dust on the Bible, dust on the Holy Word, the writing of the prophets and the sayings of our Lord, Of all the other books you’ll find, there’s none salvation holds, get that dust off the Bible and redeem you’re poor soul. I can’t remember why I threw out the old stereo but something about it didn’t work so I threw it all out—but I sure wish that I had kept at least the speakers. Material things are so expendable so why don’t I get rid of more? Where did all these damn containers come from? And why are they still here? LOL