the sun was already rising. by the time i got out of the bathroom the light had begun to crawl through the black plastic and unfinished walls, i didn't notice this right away. it was already almost seven thirty, but no one was up yet.
i lied back down, it's less uncomfortable. i put on an extra shirt, this wasn't easy. one of the construction workers came up the driveway with loud music.
on one side of the bed i had thrown some clutter, the laptop had clicked and chirped by my ear the whole night through. i decided that i was lucky to have something so quiet be the loudest thing keeping me up this night. i plugged in my headphones and loaded the doors and some background music from a cartoon i've loved forever.
as i tried to rest my neck back on the sheets my head was held in a way that i could not help to see what i had been looking at.
i loosened the cord as it stretched with me, found camera, i took at least a dozen shots.
i want there to be a painting made from those shots.
standing on the bed, shooting the upper corner of the jack herer suite, mr. morrison starts going off about how we need a real war. this is too much for me to indure by itself, i always listen to at least two files at once. there is a certain angle that i know the camera can use to crystalize light. i hope that i found that angle this morning.
somehow: this has been important to me. more important than what is inescapable.