Coffee: Diet Dr. Pepper, Gas Station Supply; I bought the Dr. Pepper around 11pm on the way down to Atlanta last Friday; it was a long, late drive and I wasn’t sure I would make it without a kick; I didn’t need the kick so the Dr. Pepper stayed fresh in the car that I’d parked below an oak tree all weekend; this morning, rushing out to help M get to work and to get myself on the road, the cold bottle was welcome, no time for coffee; it tasted like every other Diet Dr. Pepper, like every other too-perfect thing
My PC’s power supply died. I went to Best Buy to buy another. The guy at the counter kept talking about the last one he bought, how it gave out during a game. After six hours driving, and a morning wrapped in Atlanta colors, I didn’t feel like talking, but I still tried to be polite. Eventually, he sold me the box and sent me off. Outside, cold, cuddling a black-box chunk of technology, I drove home.
There were so many times this weekend I thought about taking pictures. I watched all the birds of joy circling your yard. But I didn’t take any pictures.
A long time ago I saw a sunset on Santorini. It was pretty, but not as miraculous as they’d make you think. Anyway, the people I was with were snapping it up, and when they saw I was just watching they asked me why I didn’t have my phone out. I’ll admit I felt superior when I told them that it dampened it for me, fitting something precious into a keepsake. It doesn’t make me feel superior anymore, but I still can’t find the desire to photograph the things I most want to remember. I don’t want to take the time away for fiddling with an aperature, I don’t want to miss it.
Currently Reading: Another Country, James Baldwin
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A picture is a secret about a secret, the more it tells you the less you know.Diane Arbus