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The indecisive moment(s)

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Tree and shrub pruning. Perimeter weed defense. Pasture clearance, barn painting. Garage painting. New bathroom. New shop doors. Catch the horses actually playing soccer, and not white-eye terrified by the ball. What remains on my project list will have to wait until next summer.  A month later and my knees are still prone to spontaneous knocking and my feet are still numb and wooden from the roof project- not sure what is going on there, probably a pinched nerve somewhere. Numbness is an odd thing to get used to, but at least I’m no longer tripping over my own shoes. I can’t believe I used to do work like this all day every day.

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Often it’s enough to just put things on a list. I have no intention of painting the barn, but it’s on the list. Weeding, yard work: yeah, sure. And shrubs are the children we fight over- some sort of surrogation of a forgotten biological imperative. I’m building a case for unconditional slaughter, which may be above my level of commitment, and annoyance. It that the same as indecisiveness?

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Getting older but still time expands, and lately moments sort of feel like the  cold frothy discharge from a clash of inexperience and experience.  (Inexperience isn’t the right word at all, but imperience is too fucking cute). And photos drift noncommittally in these tailings too, I notice not so much a lack of inspiration as a lack of decisiveness. Not only in situ but after- an alarming amount of marginal distinctions are showing up as diptychs and  other assemblies. I just can’t seem to get enough periphery, can’t stop chasing what’s just out of the frame, either or structure- or time-wise. At the lake bed last week I couldn’t decide which flat, gray, featureless part of a silt canyon I liked best so I shot the whole goddamned panorama- eight 5×7 negatives long, with a 150mm lens at that. But that is also a list of sorts, I suppose.

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