I found a box of old magazines I'd bundled up and stashed into envelopes some 25 years ago, so I scanned one of the covers and then sat down and read an interview I'd done with an artist friend named S. Clay Wilson. Interviewing Wilson was easy: ask a simple question and he gives back all the snappy patter you could ever imagine, people read it and think you had something to do with it. So, that's how come the pictures.

I had an odd thought this morning that I could pretty much do anything that I wanted this afternoon. Tomorrow, of course, is booked solid. Go shoot the Sisters, write another journal entry, prepare for Monday and then the operation Tuesday morning. How many hours is that really? Six hours out of 168 in a week, 3 1/2%? Then I read a couple of journals that talked about the hours they had in their day. Sleep was treated as an option. Something you did every now and then on a Sunday morning, kind of like a night on the town you can only afford on special occasions. What did I do with my 6 hours of freedom? Started redoing the links page, of course, what else would you do with something so valuable?

Actually, that's not such a bad deal. I've been talking about redoing this site for months and this morning something started me actually doing it. The idea is that this is fun (right?) and it is, but sometimes you have to wait and let that part start by itself. I'm looking back on that comment above about Sunday being booked solid, shooting the Sisters and writing another entry. Dangerous. Has that become some kind of duty, shooting pictures and writing this journal? I think not. Maybe that's what those journalers were talking about, all those hours they were complaining about were really being spent doing what they liked to do. What's a little sleep, after all, when all the beans are counted?