Tag: photography

Wake in the morning. Turn off your TV. Curtains up. Clap hands. Black.


photographs from riding the rails

If only good theater were contagious, I could infect you all. Spread a dramatic virus, upstaging all your favourite shows, something like American politics, but without all the going-down-in-flames. A new world order, literate, thick with allegory, better than video games.

there is always

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms,
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers.
Thanks to your love a certain fragrance,
risen darkly from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride,
so I love you because I know no other way than this:
where “I” does not exist, nor “you”
So close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
So close that your eyes close and I fall asleep.

-Pablo Neruda

The Boy is coming back for a visit near the end of June.

A group of peacocks is called a muster or an ostentation.

My Bjork concert pictures have been uploaded.

Hey locals – Sanctuary tonight is your last chance to go dancing with Tyler before he takes off for his globe-trotting whirlwind summer of romance and fame. And if bleakly thrashing goths isn’t up your alley, which I fully understand, you might want to drop by the hospital to visit Steph, who is apparently dying of boredom after breaking her ankle in the last rollerderby. Either way, you’re doing a good deed. (I haven’t been by to see her yet, because I suck, but say “hello” for me, it is on my List of Things To Do.)

Shine, a SF nightclub, has a photobooth hooked up to Flickr.

I wished today for a real studio to play in. Crouching in my livingroom, having only two inches wiggle room, relying on the reflected light of a small hand mirror that I’d precisely taped to my wall, just wasn’t cutting it for me. Someone on MySpace wants to pay me $20/hour to take artistic nudes of him. He’s a hugely muscled man of the sort where I want to pronounce it muskles, thick as several boards with spelling to match. (His punctuation isn’t too hot either). I’m tempted to say yes, but only to connect myself with a shoot that won’t be locked behind a non-disclosure agreement, like the sweetheart shoots I do for women or the kink community boudoir photos. There must be an easier way.

Part of my reluctance to pester my photographer friends is the certain knowledge that I should be hunting more work for myself. Right now the best way to get me out of the house is promise me a meal. I’m wary of rent right now, too, though I already spend as little as possible. Underemployment is making me too nervous to feel I can blithely take a day off to scamper about the woods. I’ve been asked to write articles for a number of magazines, which is great, but it’s all volunteer work, which doesn’t help put food in the fridge. There was a run of film work last month, but it seems to have been a blip on the map, with no real direction.

Dreamy underwater shots by Alberich Mathews.

yes, that is a disco in an elevator. Don’t you want one too?

The dead-rain weather hasn’t been allowing me to continue my pictures. I decided I wanted six when I was done, but so far I’ve only got four of the pretty little things. I have no lights, you see, so I rely on sunlight and my living-room wall. If these clouds keep up, I’m going to have to borrow gear from VFS to finish the set.

And, apropros of nothing, as more and more of these clips pile up, it’s been solidifying in my mind that the Wacky Right of America are overdue the label postmodern. The republicans seem to have stopped thinking of themselves as a universal entity and more a righteous legion under fire, The Other, a group that, in claiming victimhood, so deny any responsibility they may have for everyone else. I’m sure this could be applied a little deeper, but that’s about as far as I feel like going with it. I’d still like to have a nice evening.