January 3, 2011

Morning came way too early today. I was exhausted getting everyone off to school. Maybe exhaustion is the perfect mental state for editing photos, because you don’t have any patience for the mediocre images that crowd your archive. When you’re exhausted you just want one thing: Sleep. Can’t.

Soon everyone has left except me and the dog, who vomits on the rug.


I’m watching a special on photojournalist Reza. I see he’s shooting with a Leica 21mm lens and I remember that I sold mine in 2004 and spent the money on a Canon DSLR. I feel like vomiting on the rug.

Please Kill Me.


I put the rug outside on a picnic table and rub snow on it, leaving it in the sun to melt. When I check later the rug has frozen to the table and I am unable to move it.


Watched Salt. Three stars.


Sorting through files on my computer, I find this quote:

The reason everyone is so bitchy in academia is because the stakes are so low.

Please substitute journalism for academia.


I had a dream. I was photographing in a deserted industrial town. Think Detroit, or Magna. Everyone had vanished and I was in an abandoned prison photographing three murderous inmates. No guards anywhere. One of the killers realized the door was unlocked and walked out to freedom and mayhem. I was thinking, Do I keep shooting or run for safety? But they left me unharmed when I suggested that they hold a pagan mass and invite the Christian townspeople, who they hated.

I walked through the woods and found a suitable location for the mass, a spot where we could build a large bonfire. I walked to my tent and saw it had been soaked by rain.


The day ends like it began. Sleep. Can’t.

I don’t feel like editing photos.

And the rug is still outside, frozen to the backyard.


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