Ugh. It’s dreary outside and my mind feels like thick sludge. I have no ideas. All of my work feels trite and I’m going through motions of shooting, but there’s little joy that comes from it.

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There’s bits of ideas coming through with heavy interference, like a song on the radio, but you can’t quite find the station. Sporadic and noisy.

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I’m not sure why i shoot, or write this. I tell myself that practice will make me a better - I don’t know what - artist? But I’m not sure that’s true. Maybe I’m afraid that if I stop I’ll finally admit to myself that I’m just another guy with a bunch of disposable income and camera gear.

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That’s what this garbage seems to suggest.

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But maybe if I keep at it, I’ll come up with something? Maybe I’ll get an idea worth shooting. Something that’s more than neat lights, or an interesting way to print, something with some depth to it. I don’t know.

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Or maybe I’ll drag Abby through another hundred light setups and still not find anything to say.