Gone

Pissed. I worked all day yesterday on building a page, and it was a good one, recounting a phone call with Glenn where we talked about the next movie we wanted to do. "The Docent", in which someone like me, played by me, took tour groups, or sometimes just the camera, through things. Explained installations or situations or natural phenomena. Maybe getting some things wrong, making stuff up on the fly (pissing up a rope, as my Dad used to say), but allowing the camera to linger. Spilt milk. The page was lost to a power surge, but we probably will do the movie because Glenn gets an idea and shakes it, like a terrier might a rat. It's cool. I work well with other people, though I might complain that the combined arts are a pain in the ass. Which they are, because if there's more than one of you involved, you have to start making compromises. I did actually start the 'spring cleaning' in that it was windy day, perfect for cleaning the shop vacuum cleaner, which is a job from hell. I put three gallons of rainwater on to heat, knowing I would be dirty later, cleaned the damn machine and vacuumed corners. This was enormously satisfying. After I had worked a few hours, and cleaned up, I got a drink, rolled a smoke, went out and sat on the back stoop, another sour mash sunset, thinking life couldn't get much better than where I was right then. Just a moment in time. I might be showing Fatima the Carter nudes and talk about those last paintings of Modigliani , which are currently driving me crazy. In a sidebar I might talk about eroticism. Any port in a storm. What appears to be.