When in the middle of a crowd of robo-people one beautiful August morning

This morning, I was cagey. This happens to me a lot. It happens to me a lot on the weekends. My family likes to move slowly on the weekends, and my little boy won't even get dressed if he can help it. This is probably because everyone leaves the house for work or school during the week. I don't leave the house. I live here. I work here. I'm here right now. On Saturdays and Sundays, I still live here, but I don't have to work.

“I gotta get out of here,” I said.

“Going on a bike ride?” my wife said.

“Just going,” I said.

Now, I have to tell you that my neurosis comes out in very strange ways. I know this, and I don't care. When I was younger, I would try to explain my habits and behaviors. Now, I just don't care. The particular thing I did today I've done for many days throughout my life. Yes, I was on my way to go for a little walk around the neighborhood, but I felt compelled to bring my notebook and pen with me.

Ugh! This Fucking Photo Project Sucks!

I just can't seem to walk away when something isn't working. I mean, I won't even put down an awful book without finishing it. I can be reading the worst book ever written, and I will slowly, painfully take it in a few pages at a time because I'm not interested enough to really read it and I can't just not finish it.

I guess I'm the same why about a project. I'm working on this awful photo challenge right now. I'm struggling with it in fact. And what's sad is that I've been at it for well over a month, and I wanted to do it in August from start to finish.

I had such lofty intentions. I thought I could learn about my camera, learn how it works, how to do new and interesting things with it and have this wonderful learning experience.

On Writing Denver

There is no reason why I should think about Denver. I lived in Denver a few different times and for not real long periods. I would say from 1992 until 2010, a mere 18 years, I lived in Denver four different times for no longer than four years at a shot. Denver was just a place I went in and came out of, I don't know why. And the end of my time in Denver really was in 2010 when Janice and I went to Oregon.

Denver is only 30 miles down the road. I still have friends in Denver. I never get there and when I do, I marvel at all the changes, the changes to the town and to me. I don't really like visiting the place. Denver today is a much bigger, much more crowded place than it was years ago, and this is true of just about everywhere on Earth. As for my friends, I talk with them only very seldom despite how much I love them and value them and the times we had when we were all young and drunk and without families.

But I write a lot about Denver. Or rather, I set many stories in Denver. I do the same with Portland, but that's more permissible only because I really felt free in Portland. I never felt free in Denver. I often felt oppressed when I lived in Denver. For many years I felt like a poseur in Denver. My relationship with Portland is pure, but my relationship with Denver is real.

Plot

So, I had coffee with my buddy Dan the other day. It was a lovely day, and we drank coffee, and that is all the action that took place. Not much of a plot, is it?

Dan has been cooking up this story in his head for years. I can't tell you much other than that. He has told me bits and pieces of it over the years and each time he does, I'm more and more impressed with it. He has thought about it for a long time, he has constructed it, developed it. He has made notes. All he really lacks is the act of writing the actual story. I have faith that he will. There is only so long that a person can ruminate on something like this until it tears out of the skin and becomes its own thing.

So, there we were, having coffee.

A few pages from this month's photography challenge