Howdy howdy. Talked to more realtors today. Getting sick of talking instead of shooting, but that is an aside. We shall see where this leads. Headed up to Nevada City with my mother to re-shoot her cabin, I'm trying to get in to real estate offices meetings for brief presentations and I would need some examples of my work for that to be useful.
Spent all day spent. Awake enough while I was attempting to sell myself on the altar of real estate, but something sapped me. Bah. Talk of being tired is tiresome in itself. Didn't take my camera kayaking because I still don't trust the environment involved not to destroy my beloved. Need a waterproof casing.
The images come from around my moms cabin. Picked up on something sinister. The bottom right was the first image, the one that defined the rest. The twisted version of typical domestic things got somewhere, maybe it still has some place to go. Feeling heavy on Clark Ashton Smith/H.P. Lovecraft's ideas of areas being twisted and malign by default. Not to say that this area is nasty, though the cabin sits on cliffs that were carved by placer mining techniques. This soil has been grievously disturbed and the old things inside it have been exposed.
I just heard what I believe to be a shotgun blast in the valley below.
Goodnight.
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