Thursday, April 16, 2009
The house is silent. It has been evacuated by everyone. The suburban home that was created to be an island, a little city that contains the enrgy of four people is empty. My wife and kids are out of town and I've stayed back to work. It seems like a meditation retreat where everyone has agreed not to speak for a weekend. The neighbors are quiet, I am quiet. I lock the front door, open the back doors and never need to get dressed.
Try to set up shoots, work on paperwork and make calls in the day. Speak to as few people as possible...just the most necessary connections. Print portfolio from 7-9. Address the Echolilia project from 10 to Midnight. Try to visit someone a dinner time or trick someone into visiting.
Beer tastes great at nine am. Chicken wing flavored pretzels do not....they are for the evening, when the sun goes down. Not a big vice, they can't be detected in a blood test. The tight system that the house contains, that holds me together and gives me structure is gone. It is now being rebuilt with a foundation of chicken wing flavored snacks.