And Again.

Right now, a Saturday in the midst of a dreary one, I feel discontent; alone and silent in things I've tried to be mum about.

I always try to fill my Saturdays with something to do. But today, I was dragged by sleep a few hours more. I woke up alone with nobody in the house. Perhaps they've left, or tended to other things. Perhaps, as signs would do, show me of a glimpse of my life in the every unknown future I'll be going to--a place where nobody knows me, but I'll be desperate to want.

I just took this photo, minutes ago, of a chair isolated from else; forced to be in a corner, sitting on olden wood planks leading out-in or the other way around. On the other corner, there is a lamp, framed with its head cut off, and plugged in the world of increasing electricity rates controlled by monopolies of desire and greed and inane things. Its switch, far below, lying on the floor needing to be swooped on to illuminate the world with its burning heart.

This is me.

This is me today.

I am as sordid as wires enveloped together in a black space of fleeting things.

I cannot make anything out of it except that one way or another leads to another.

There is a start. There is an end. A journey in the hurricane that spins me around like a top. On a hard flat surface, I drill this temperamental earth etching an array of lines.

This could all be in loops; in rewind; in flux.

Like ourselves, in a state of holding breath, in moments of panic.

All because of ...

In my vast desire to be something of a 'learned' master, or a simple minimalistic wise man in the realm of photography, I cannot help but be frustrated and overwhelmed in the things that I do not know of but wished to do so.

I have a set of eyes that are as normal as a cup of coffee or a 3-in-1. I have eyes that see what you do. I have eyes that quiver in the light of a bright sun. Under cloudy skies, we see the same shade of beauty.

What troubles me is my inability to awake a demon to burn my eyes out. I bought colored filters to see in irony the deep set of blacks and whites. I tried to replicate this fashion in digital. But they all look oh so the same. Everytime.

I read and read and read and read, unable to grasp a simple thought.

And, yet again, I am malcontent.

Perhaps...

Yes, the veritable word. Perhaps.

Perhaps, I should shift my seat, go out, and do it again.