24 August 2010
Nut Rolls
(Apothecary, Old Colorado Springs)
Sorry, sorry. How do they say it in Latin?
Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. A few nice people who have better things to do wrote to ask if I was all right, or if something had happened.
Well, it has, but it is both good and bad. Travel and Family, the usual nut-roll of life. I don’t want to beat the drum too hard about what is happening with the folks, or the latest tidings and portents from the Northland. I don’t know why Dad picked some other apartment to go into and sleep on the couch, though I think that says something positive about his comfort level at Potemkin Village assisted living.
That means another level of care, of course, but we will deal with that next week.
Bless my sister; she has been doing this all summer and the point of her labor was that we had to get to a place where none of us had to do the impossible as she has.
I do write to breath but occasionally also live, and the two are sometimes mutually exclusive. The trip out West was the other part of the week's nutroll and was not compatible with documenting it in real time. It was too short to get fully settled, the river-bounded states floating by far below and blending into the square geometric ones.
It was intended to be an exercise in photojournalism, which if I ever grow up will be one of the things I want to do. I have a camera I would someday like to learn to operate with some facility, and had hoped to capture some equine motion shots of jumping, but wound up passively participating in the aftermath of a legal nut-roll inflicted on good people by (Name deleted by recommendation of counsel).
There are libel implications- international- to what I might write, and it is not my issue so I will let it be. Discretion governed what I wrote on rising yesterday, a true account as best I could understand it, but just saved it to the archive and with all the best intentions I ran out of airspeed and interest in doing two stories.
I took about three hundred pictures with the new camera, finding my limits, and a couple of them were good. The buttons and dials on the back are quite a nut-roll, but maybe I can unravel the mystery in time.
(Action Shot, Fountain, Colorado)
Then I stayed up too late last night- wrong time zone- editing pictures and reading a new Vampire book called The Strain, which is scarier than shit and depicts a New York sinking into the ooze of mass Zombie attack, and then kicked myself and got back to work cropping the pics from last Friday.
Like the reviews on the interior cover say, this is an excellent re-imagining of the Vampire legend, quite unlike our pretty people on True Blood.
It is my equivalent of the old dark room, sans the red light andacrid smell of the developing chemicals my father used to know so well when he had his mind.
Woke early this morning with the prospect of the four-hour drive to VA Beach to participate in a panel discussion, which means I have to be rolling from Big Pink by seven thirty. Ugh.
The panel is supposed to convene at 11:45, so theoretically I could pile back into the Hubrismobile and fly back to the capital; I could also stay at the BOQ down there and walk on the beach and come back in the morning. “How is this,” I thought as I brushed my teeth.
“I will play it by ear and see what the weather is like down there. I will take swim trunks and the computer and see if things wrap up early enough to get back and swim tonight.”
I suspect my flirtation with the mass attack of the Zombies contains more than a little denial in all this about what I have to do next week. I think I will walk on the beach and look at the endless ocean, so far removed from the endless nut-roll of Washington.
Maybe live a little.
Copyright 2010 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
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