Ken and Phil came by tonight. We went to dinner in my current, usual, spot. I haven't seen Ken since I was in NYC last. He was passing through town this past weekend. I neglected to get shots of them. I thought they'd be a good story of my night. But here we have it; me back to work. When I take breaks, I sometimes hang what I'm working on in the living room and stand outside trying to get the furthest perspective I ca on it. There's a TV in that shot. It just sits there, intrusively. Why I have't gotten rid of it yet, I don't know.
Onward. Next day.
I like this one. There's a lot of story involved. It seems this painting is taking so long, it will bare it's own season in my story tellings. I didn't paint today. I tried not to paint yesterday. I'm having problems with my wrist. I expect to start painting shortly after I return with my boring coffee, tomorrow. I don't want this one to be on display, not now, and not when it's done. I may hang it in my bedroom while I complete my relationship with it. It is too big though, for any place in my bedroom unless I remove yet another door in my house. I don't know if I've ever lived without a bedroom door. I don't know if it matters. Maybe we'll find out.
I dragged this home with me. He said I could have it. He said if I came out I could have it. I was already in that forward direction. That commitment you get when to get past the cold of the water, you just dunk right in. The decision has been made. You just wait for the next swell, and drop. The adrenaline can seem more shocking to the system then the water itself. He said I could have it. I wasn't in the door 20 minutes when he started suggesting I take other pieces, that I suppose mean more in the grand scope of his creative endeavors, and I should be absolutely flattered he'd allow me to have, but this was the one I wanted. I couldn't risk it disappearing into the recesses of our memory. And the words on it read so different now. You know nothing, erin. You know nothing. I fight the wave of regrets that rush upon me. Everything feels so intangible at current. I am haunted by these words. He will never tell me what I meant. Never. I suppose that may very well be my penance. And for that, erin, you will get the silence.
We were on our way to dinner, then the park, then to see Janice and the gang over at Karen's, for a quick drink before midnight would arrive. "You better get moving. You better get started now." Me: "Huh?" "This isn't really great snowball snow. It's kind of icy. You better move."
He hates me. I swear sometimes, sometimes, he hates me. He loathes me. I am a hold-your-breath I-just-can't-stand-it sort of irritant to him. He is polite. He can do a good 24 hours with me. 12 at least. We are great that first 12. Good the first 24. I find myself thinking, "What did I DO?" Always. I can never quite pinpoint it. I almost feel a panic. It does me no service to inquire. That wall goes up, it is up. He's good.
In vino veritas. Early on, I preferred Spence when he would drink. 'Preferred' is not the correct term. He would loosen up. He would talk. Most importantly, that wall would lower a bit, and he would volunteer endearing sentiments. This came at the time I was newly falling in love with him. I welcomed the sentiments regardless of their design. We all know the drinking was problematic. It does seem ironic it was the isolation I experianced when I'd lose him to drink that I initially took issue with. Greg, like all the others, like myself, like all of us, loosens up with a few drinks. Odd though. He never needed to loosen up before. Now, this wall. He hates me. All I could conclude before was that I was just such a disappointment, his irritation just seeped out of him. He started getting odd and distant before I went out last time though. All it took was me becoming fully engaged in our relationship/friendship, and he got queer. I suppose, after a few things he's said, he is as perplexed with my behavior as I am his. Ten years of silence is how he perceives me, and now, here I am. I do fear I will lose him to all of this. I will lose my ten years. I know I never would have had my studio back without him. I know he provided a rock for me to tether myself to when I had no idea what direction the storm was taking me. But here I am. I have lost him by finally, and actually, showing up.
I haven't given myself another assignment yet, although Jonathan did mention I need to keep it up with the Self Portrait Tuesdays.
So here we are. Christmas was on Tuesday this year. We got together and played cameras. Like mine, his house has been over-run by creative projects. We moved from one room to the next, shifting between lighting set ups. Dinner was at a chinese food restaurant, which is absolutely a Christmas classic. I played with a flash, asked a few score of questions, and watched somebody that really knows what they're doing, do what they do. He got me laughing so hard at one point, I was stunned at how happy I was. And the cameras flared. He caught a moment, tits falling out, cradling a camera with a flash, a cigarette, a lighter, and a Jack 'n' Diet Coke, balancing in four inch spiky little things, covered in his coat, while preparing to change locations once again, and shoot outside. I look happy as hell.
So Tuesdays. So art friends. I know… He's kinda cute. What did I tell ya… I make people look good.
I took a few shots at the museum yesterday. I'd thought to allow the leniency of a day shot in the mix, be it I'd come the distance. It was night. I still carried my cameras. This was taken in the back alley on my walk home from yet another first date. These are men, on break, at one of the restaurants in town. It just speaks something. Something about the night closing them in. About all these other worlds occurring in tandem with our own. I was in the shadows, and they were in the light. They're universe existed without the knowledge of my own. I like the night. I've liked shooting at night.. Another project starts soon. I'm uncertain what the parameters will be.
When I started this project, there was someone I had started seeing, and when looking back at former photo projects, I had thought, and looked forward to, him being part of this series. These projects tell me the story, tell me a truth, I don't see on my own. There are a few shots that he was party to, but has appeared in none. He has not once been the in the shot of the night. I commonly choose the photo that best tells of the story. Here we have it. Another affair. The man is faceless. This one was good for me. I wanted very much to break the pair bond I had with Michael. He has been the lynchpin in my support group since Spence's passing. Now I have someone else to get over and get past. Here we have it. The cycle has begun. She_is_back.
Sheila provides the most wonderful gifts. She enjoys the challenge of thoughtful and creative gift giving. This year for the holidays I received a pair of earrings purchased in Paris from an antique jeweler. She told her husband they needed to find something fitting for a long neck. They are spectacular. I do not live a life of black tie affairs, save the one's I prepare others for, but on occasion I am called to task. When this happens I throw a little something simple on and adorn myself with a bag and accessories Sheila has gifted me over the years. I need a hot date! These earrings are gorgeous!