i have woken up only in fits and starts for the last two days. coffee doesn't do it, exercise doesn't do it. bach does it, but not at eight or nine or ten in the morning. i've been waiting for the morning when i'd simply turn off my alarm and refuse to get out of bed. maybe my body has been deciding that for me. i get out of bed and am totally lethargic and confused and then my arms lock up.

every night for the last several nights i have dreamed about photography. sometimes i'm taking pictures, or going somewhere to take pictures, or just dreaming and dream and the next thing i know i'm taking exposures of the dream. sometimes i have an infinite number of exposures on a single roll of film. other times i cant get the shutter to release, or i do and then the shutter takes a long time to close. apparently this is the current obsessive medium. last night: a man lights himself on fire and rides a unicycle off the edge of a balcony in some one-block-wide city somewhere in the south. he is silhouetted against large white sheets that have been hung out to dry. i can't get my shutter to open. a large negative-space horse stands in front of a corner liquor store at three in the morning.

none of my waking shots are any good at all, and neither are the prints. and that's okay with me.

We have a huge barrel of wine, but no cups.

That's fine with us. Every morning

we glow and in the evening we glow again.

They say there's no future for us. They're right.

Which is fine with us.

-Rumi