A few weeks ago I tried my best to roust myself out of the fatigue that’s been plaguing me for way too long, and at least Try to develop some film that’s been sitting patiently in my darkroom. I have several rolls of Fuji Neopan 100, 120 film shot in the Hasselblad (and maybe also in the Mamiya C330), some of which have probably been sitting there for a couple years. I got as far as loading the film onto reels and putting them in the tank. Then the tank sat there loaded for at least two, maybe three weeks. I’ve no idea which. 

This is where my head is at these days. It’s been making me think it’s time to pick out a coffin…except my will says to scatter my ashes back home in California, the land of my birth.  Then the other day I saw a post on Facebook from the Washington DC gay paper, The Washington Blade. It was about a reenactment of Frank Kameny’s historic protests for gay rights in front of the White House…in 1953.

You either have to be a gay or lesbian person of my generation or older, to appreciate how much guts that took back then.

Time was I would not have hesitated to be there to be a photojournalist once more and document that with my cameras. But I’m 71 years old and I’m tired all the fucking time anymore, and as soon as I thought I have to be there, I also thought but I’m too damn tired anymore. 

Something deep inside of me…I have no idea what it could have been…pushed me forward. I took a train down to DC, got a room at my usual hotel, and at the appropriate time I got on the Metro, got off at Metro Center, and walked to the White House. And for the first time in years and did my photojournalist thing, and felt alive again.

I came home and started going through my photos. The plan is to have another sub gallery up in my Life And Times gallery with the shots I got of the reenactment in it. Then I found a roll of black and white with some interesting shots I hadn’t catalogued.

Why my art photography will probably never be well liked…

While working on that I noticed I had a third sub gallery for Sleep Talking God that I never finished, and I also started working on that.

Then just now I finally developed those two rolls of Hasselblad film I loaded several weeks ago.

Something triggered me…I have no idea really what it was. And I’m still tired all the fucking time. Maybe it’s just a spring awakening. Maybe I’m getting over regret at going back to work and not diving into my creative arts like I’d thought I would in retirement. I’m regretting going back, much as I loved that job and everything I was able to accomplish being a part of the space program. But things there are different there now, in ways that prevent me from fully engaging in the work I used to love. Right now if I had it to do over again I would decline the offer. But I was on a downhill spiral then anyway, so maybe it makes no difference. Part time retired or not I still have to wake myself up somehow.

This is a start. Hopefully.