700 Club

Flowers and trees
  • ISO: 200
  • Shutter: 1/800 sec
  • Camera: NIKON D80

Tuscaloosa, Alabama

Took a spin out to NorthRiver Yacht Club Thursday evening. It was nice, though I didn’t shoot anything overwhelmingly stunning. I never do anymore. I don’t know why. My creative fire seems forged in the kiln of writing these days, not that I’m doing anything brilliant in that area either. I sometimes wonder why I continue to chase either one. It’s a great deal of heartache for the off chance of a good day.

I spent today working on my kitchen cabinets, stripping them, sanding them. I wanted to leave them distressed, but I’m not sure I have the guts. I don’t trust my instincts anymore. I vacillate wildly between giddy confidence and the same soul-sucking doubts that have always dogged me. I don’t write much here about it. I don’t know who still reads. I often feel like I’m talking to myself.

Today marks my 700th image here. I look back and remember happy times, but it’s been so very long since I’ve shot anything I thought was worth a flying flip. I don’t know if I’m really that bad or if I just don’t care anymore. But I do care. I know I do. I shot pictures of Zolby this morning and was really happy.

The highs and lows are too much sometimes. I used to say the highs were so breathtakingly exhilarating that they made the lows worth it. But on nights like tonight, when it seems so very dark and it’s too early to go to bed but there’s nothing I want to do, it seems untenable. I used to love to read books and magazines, sucking down words so fast I’d choke on them. I used to love to explore new music, reveling in analyzing lyrics. I used to play with my kitties and watch movies with Nicholas and talk on the phone. I used to drag studio lights into the kitchen and stay up all night throwing oranges in vases just to photograph the splash.

I spend a lot of time alone these days. As the months pass, I get more and more isolated. No one seems able to faze me. I’ve mastered the art of the polite smile, the company patter. I can be here without ever being here at all. I shoot without thought, write without feeling. My heart just doesn’t seem to beat anymore, and I’m not sure where to go from here.

Music: Breath Me by Sia (lyrics)

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