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Resumes sent. Meanwhile, unemployment insurance plus a few portraits and a wedding, might help me make it through the month; pay October rent and give money to Betsy.

A Triangle. The job market in Western Massachusetts is as barren as this playground.

Me. My buddy, Marc, one of the owners of the photography studio where I work, photographed me tonight.

Games. I went to Daryls soccer game today. I never know where to sit or stand at these games. The question is: Do I watch the game alone or sit in the stands with other parents--and Betsy? Lately, I feel alone. Or lonely. And as much as there is a side of me that wants to be among people, there is another that wants to be alone. I must get out. This I know.

The soccer ball rolled away from the little girl and she sat on the track and cried softly, "Daddy. Daddy."

From the newspaper: Time Gleason scored both goals and Daryl Barone had both assists as the Blue Devils rallied to tie..."

Regarding Photography. Although work at the studio has slowed down, we still take hundreds of photos on any given day. Sadly, we never get to see them--except on the back of the camera. Sometimes though, you might meet a mom and her daughter, or son, in the studio lobby, portfolio in hand. This happened to me today. A high school senior and her mom from Hadley; or Hatfield. I remembered the girl with the long, red curly hair and asked if I could have the pleasure of seeing her portfolio. Certainly the mom said. And as I turned the pages she pointed out four photos of her daughter that I took; four images, four 8 x 10's that they were here today to order. This made my day.

Hafiz once said... "all your joys and suffering along this arduous path are lifting your worn veil like a rising stage curtain..."

When I woke this morning I learned that Robert Wise died yesterday: editor of Citizen Kane, director of West Side Story, The Sound of Music, and, among others, the 1951 classic, The Day The Earth Stood Still.

My studio is my spaceship.
Gort, Klaatu barado nikto.
When I was little I was scared
of The Invasion of The Body Snatchers.
I kissed Susan Goldberg in fifth grade
in Debby Feingold's garage. I loved
the Beach Boys when I was little.
When I was little I almost died;
I have two belly buttons to prove it.
I have not had a peanut butter & jelly sandwich
in a long time. When I was little my mom made
tuna fish & egg salad sandwiches for me.
When I was in high school my friends
thought I was going to be a major league
baseball player. When I was little I was
a New York Yankees fan. I am now
a Boston Red Sox fan but I have not
told my dad. I love my middle name.
When I was little I was afraid of what
was in the closet, in a box, on the shelf.
But I am not afraid of the dark.

Yesterday someone said the sky was filled with "dirty clouds." Today the sky is gray. The mountain out the window is dotted with muted reds and oranges. Haze. Restless all day.

Cultural Creative. A few months ago I met the president of Evolution Media Group at an art opening in Northampton. I was looking at the company website this morning and found this:

"If you agree with 10 or more of the following statements, you are probably a Cultural Creative. You are likely to be a Cultural Creative if......

You love nature and are deeply concerned about its destruction.
You are strongly aware of the problems of the whole planet (global warming, destruction of rain forests, overpopulation, lack of ecological sustainability, exploitation of people in poorer countries) and want to see more action to address these problems coming from the private sector as well as government agencies.
You would pay more taxes or would pay more for consumer goods if you knew the money would go to clean up the environment and stop global warming.
You give a lot of importance to helping other people and bringing out their unique gifts.
You volunteer for one or more good causes.
You see religion and spirituality as important in your life.
You want more equality for women at work, and more women leaders in business and politics.
You are concerned about violence and the abuse of women and children around the world.
You want politics and government spending to put more emphasis on children's education and well-being, on rebuilding our neighborhoods and communities, and on creating an ecologically sustainable future.
You are unhappy with both the left and the right in politics, and want to find a new way that is not in the mushy middle.
You tend to be rather optimistic about our future and distrust the cynical and pessimistic view so often supported by the media.
You want to be involved in creating a new and better way of life in our country.
You are concerned about what big corporations are doing in the name of making more profits: downsizing, creating environmental problems, and exploiting poorer countries.
You have your finances and spending under control, and are not concerned about overspending.
You dislike all the overemphasis in modern culture on success and “making it”, on getting more and spending more, on wealth and luxury goods.
You like people and places that are exotic and foreign, and like experiencing and learning about other ways of life.

Some good news: Some people--those soon to be married--have been inquiring about my wedding photography.

Concern. Last week I worked approximately twenty hours at the photography studio. This week I am scheduled for a baker's dozen. Today I searched for work to replace these lost hours and if one was to comment on the state of the economy by observing the diminishing number of job postings on Monster, Career Builder, Hot Jobs, and Craigslist, one might conclude that the economy is sinking fast.

Meanwhile, I do have a wedding to shoot on October ninth. And I am the only photographer at a pre-wedding get-together at the restaurant in my building--The Apollo Grill. And the bridal guide in which I have an advertisement comes out in two weeks.

And, yet, to smile, all I needed to do was remember how Danielle made me laugh today; or the mom in the studio this past Saturday who cried from pure joy when she saw the photos of her daughter.

One year ago, today, this hot-air balloon appeared out my window and this morning as I was editing this photo below, I once again heard the sound of a balloon.

And this is what I saw and from the red balloon a voice called "Bruce, Bruce." My friend, Victor.

Brian (an artist and internet friend) and his brother, Greg, visited me for the first-time Saturday night. I was tired from a long day in the studio (But I can't complain; my hours this week have been cut to a baker's dozen and this a job, which I was told would last until November, looks to be ending and forcing me to find a new job.) and I hope I was a good host. I gave them a tour of Studio19 and we talked about art and photography for two and one-half hours. The photos were taken on Sunday.

Early afternoon found me and Bee, another internet friend and now a student at Mount Holyoke College, in a beautiful field in South Hadley, Massachusetts; a private place; a quiet place; hidden in a backyard; a place an internet artist friend told me about and encouraged me to visit; "Thorned Womb;"

"What's that on the top of the hill," Bee asked. After sitting in "Thorned Womb," I suggested we visit that white building on the top of the hill: Skinner State Park.

From the Summit House there is a spectacular view of the fertile valley and the Connecticut River.

Some of the rooms inside the Summit House are still furnished and decorated as they might have been when Joseph Allen Skinner, the wealthy industrialist, vacationed there. Bee exclaimed that the poor woman in one of rooms was missing a few fingers. New to the Pioneer Valley, I thought she, Bee and not the woman with the missing fingers, might enjoy a short visit and hike around Fitzgerald Lake in Northampton.

At Fitzgerald Lake we found a surface covered in green algae at one end and water-lilies at the other.

Solitary. I went to a friend's art opening tonight in Northampton and I felt so out-of-place in the city. Outside of my work in the studio, I have been living a very solitary life. I couldn't wait to get back home.

Autumn. A friend wrote this morning about the approaching autumn; "It's almost my time of year." I e-mailed her this photo:

She then e-mailed me a Larry Levis poem. I had never heard of him. I will now not forget him.

I woke very early this morning; five. Got out of bed (Off the futon; I have been sleeping downstairs the past few weeks.), made some coffee and started to seriously work on my CafePress Store--greetings cards first, and then the T-shirts. Later in the morning I went for a two-three-hour walk and photographed a few things along the way:

Holidays. Another holiday weekend. I worked yesterday. Today I felt at a loss as to what to do with the day. I sat on the couch and contemplated backyard barbecues; the delicious scent of grilled soy-marinated steaks or dill dusted salmon; beer cans popping open; the laughter of children--all this is always now a memory; thus the holidays are always about loneliness and how memory seeks to keep the past whole---the future uncertain.

Chelsea called early this morning to say she was safely on her way to Texas. Her mom picked her up at two in the morning--five hours late. She came to take Chelsea and the two kids back to Texas. Chelsea left a note for Steve, her husband.

The Problem of The Pedestal. In his book, "Writings Interviews," Richard Serra writes:

A Long List. I am feeling somewhat over-whelmed; I have much I must complete before the end of the month; and the hours at work are diminishing.

Kristi. An internet friend. Smart. Sharp. Full of life. And love. Blessed with a way with words.

I stopped at Storm King Art Center today. I looked up. I called it "Heaven's Gate."