State of the Union

Everything has been growing progressively worse over these last few months. My periods of depression have become more severe and long-lasting. I have no social contact, friends or anyone with whom I feel the ability to connect or to even contact to exchange feelings, thoughts.

Perhaps the worst part of all of this is the deepening despair. The other day, I was in a restroom and, when I went to wash my hands, I looked up at my face in the mirror over the sink and all I saw looking back at me was a tired, unhappy old man. I had never seen myself looking so old. I feel as if I am plunging towards the end of life with no ability to alter or otherwise direct my course. It is very disheartening.

I wish there was some time to think, explore and find a solution to my problems but everything keeps moving and, in order to keep up with life’s inexorable progression, I am forced to put aside my wants and watch them fall, one by one, by the wayside, lost to time.

I have lost interest in my art. I do not engage in any photography and find it difficult to write. Instead, I usually bury myself in fantasy books, trying desperately to put the world of reality out of my conscious thoughts whenever possible.

There is a craft and art faire at the end of October. I had applied and been given a space at the faire in order to sell photographs but I ended up canceling my spot. I was initially excited but then I realized that I did not have stands and other equipment to set things up for displaying the work. In addition, I was not able to make the arrangements necessary for sufficient darkroom access so that I could produce more prints of my work. The whole situation made me feel alone, frustrated and helpless. I feel disappointment with my self and I feel like a loser. I know that, one day, I will die of a heart attack or something and strangers will be cleaning up what is left in my home. All of those photographs, negatives, images, moments will be tossed into a dumpster. It will all be for nothing.