The street-ballet photoshoot was a moderate success of 500 pictures, 200 to go into the ‘moving pictures’ project, which are photos shot in sequence to create the old style ‘flicks’. Though the models all are quite happy with the results, I myself find it hard to look through and even at the pictures to see if there is actually anything worthwhile for me between them. My mind constantly strays to the pictures I had wanted to take but forgot about.
For three days now this feeling has continued, in which I feel I have done little and keep hating myself because of it, while in practice I did prepare and deliver twenty-four framed drawings to be displayed in a local coffee-house and sat in on a local neighborhood council meeting where, I think, I changed the direction of happy dreamers hoping to get people living here to participate in cleaning the street so that the council won’t have to (and save a buck, because in my mind that’s what it’s all about… to have less people on the pay-role to clean the streets) into something more long term and realistically viable to actually draw people like me out of their homes and into meeting the others and taking a measure of responsibility. I do agree that the city has lost it’s identity and that the people living in it no longer take pride in where they live. But I also think trying to persuade them to take a broom and sweep the street is not the way to go. Having declared myself as one of the people they will need to reach to get what they want, I have spoken out that for me to be interested even the slightest in the people around me, I need information. I am curious to know just how many artists we have around here and how many musicians, how many painters and writers, how many shopkeepers, greengrocers and supermarkets, and what their specials are. Where can I get a decent meal for a decent price? I’d like to know names and possibly how to reach them, because in reaching out to them for something I might want or need I would grow closer to them… I would get to know them and allow them to get to know me.
But right now all of that doesn’t seem to matter in my mind. I feel empty, drained, longing to sleep while I can’t.
I keep thinking that after everything, the writing I have done over the last few weeks, the exposition, the photoshoot, I should be happy. But I’m not. I just want to crawl into a hole and hibernate until I wake when everything is better. And when I say hibernate I mean die, and when I say die I don’t mean I am suicidal, I just mean that I don’t want to feel this way.
There is still so much to do, so much I can do. I can do the ‘flicks’, I can edit pictures with shady qualities to useful level for the book cover, composite this cover, write the story about ballet I do long to write and write on my current project ‘Children of the Moon’ and the pile of notebooks containing other stories that lie in wait. But nothing flows from my fingers as my body feels achy and pained. I can’t even type decently as my fingers feel more like talons, crooked and warped.
But I do recognize this rock I have hidden myself under for now and I have dubbed it ‘afterglow depression’. I think I have been here before and I hope it won’t last. At times like this I cant remember ever having been happy and I wonder where I got the energy to get up and organize the locations, the dancers, the photoshoot itself.
Oh well… As they say: ‘This too shall pass’… I hope. And until then there is ibuprofin ointment for my aching joints and alcohol for my aching mind.