When I got my first real, paying job, probably my biggest expense was film developing. I never really gave it much thought at the time, but I loved riding my bike around town and taking photos. Wouldn’t be at all abnormal now, with our camera obsessed culture. But back then, the main stereotype we laughed at about Japanese people was the idea that they’d take photos of everything.
So… I took pictures. Buildings. Fields. Bridges. The lake. While my first camera was a pink Kodak Disc Camera, it never really worked. So other than a few months where I could borrow an SLR from the school, most of my photos until 2001 or so were taken on a little Kodak 35mm point and shoot. Fully automatic… no settings. Just frame the picture and snap. And I don’t know why, but I enjoyed it.
This photo — of an old shed on the rail line at the edge of town — it stands out in my mind. I think it’s the first time I was consciously going out of my way to get a picture of something. Walking my bike down the railroad tracks, which felt dangerous. Was sure I shouldn’t be there. Got there, took the picture, and left. Nothing terribly amazing, but I keep coming back to it. It has a lot of hallmarks of things I now enjoy capturing. But at the time… I had never put any thought into these things.
I’m sure the building is gone now. A big reason I like photos, right there. Seeing back in time.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Jessica was one of those friendships that was always doomed to self-destruct. For two years I watched her shed off another friend every three or four months, like ridding herself of an old skin. So it’s not really shocking that the time eventually came. But meanwhile… we had some fun.
Through Jessica, I was also friends with Michelle. Had a tiny little crush on Michelle, in the way that even though I didn’t think she was anything like what I would be interested in… I was still interested. But then, of course, there was also Michelle’s older boyfriend Mike. Mike… who had a job and drove a pickup. Drove the pickup while we sat in the back watching for cops. Nothing to make you feel like a redneck more than riding through the parking lot of a plaza in the back of a pickup whose tailgate won’t close properly. Or from the same spot, watching a country highway go by at 70 miles an hour.
Kashong Glen has been around longer than dirt. And that whole time, kids have been going there to drink and do stupid things. We hiked all the way down the Glen, without thinking that we’d have to hike all the way back up to get the truck.
I can remember all of use being out in front of Michelle’s house on her family’s farm. After she threatened us with the garden hose, I successfully charged her, but eventually fell fatally drenched. Inside we watched bad movies in a really small living room with many really big couches. Everything was brown. Or at least that’s the was I remember it. And when Mike bought a house, we all helped move furniture from the barn over to his new place.
There were parties at the end of the school year at Jessi’s place. I rushed out at the last minute, having nearly forgotten to burn my French notes and workbook on the miserable little campfire in the driveway. Across the driveway was a huge fucking pool. I sat on a floating air mattress one night and talked with Volivia, who was one of the family’s foster children that summer. We talked long into dusk, after everyone else had given up on us and gone to dry out on the porch. Michelle warned me to be careful, when I finally came in to get changed, because Volivia could get me into bed like that if she wanted to. Yeah. I was really worried about that. Next summer, after she had moved back home next to the hair stylist, Matishma moved in with Jessi’s family. Maybe this is where I started falling in love with bad women’
It’s really not the same taking the subway over to Rock Creek Park. I miss pickup trucks.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
You know… I may get kicked out of the He-man Woman Haters Club for saying so, but I love my kitty. And I’m starting to believe that she may see me as more than a walking food dispenser. To set the scene… for the last couple weeks, Pixel has been sleeping on the far corner of the bed… most of the day. And once she’s comfortable, she won’t move for anything short of a flock of seagulls swooping through the apartment. Day or night you can find her on the far corner of the bed.
I woke up about 7 this morning feeling like absolute shit. Pixel was, of course, at the far corner of the bed. I sort of hobbled into the bathroom and sat doubled over for a few minutes. I finally collected myself and went to wash my hands, and found her sitting on the sink waiting for me. It’s all sweet and nice, of course, but I still felt terrible. So I wandered back and collapsed on the bed, determined to sleep it off. About ten seconds later, Pixel hopped up next to me and curled up against my chest. At the top of the bed.
I woke up late this morning feeling fine. She has returned to the normal cat mode of ignoring and abusing me.
Anyway…
I am not the most sociable person in the world. (If you know me, you may need to stop now and compose yourself before continuing to read.) But somehow I know what seems to me to be an inordinately large number of people.
I’ve always had people in my hometown who remember our childhood together better than me, (my recollection usually being: not at all). It hurts when they’re cute women.
College was college, and a seemingly never-ending stream of people flow through your life. Just recently, there was a girl’s name I couldn’t remember, right up until I started writing just now. (Sally… though I knew her as Odie).
The Internet has only made this problem more severe. People who are bad at names should avoid at all costs an addiction to IRC. You will form interesting relationships with dozens of people, none of which is likely to last longer than 2 or 3 months, (the average productive lifespan of a channel). But these people will keep popping up. I know I know them. I’ve talked with them for hours. I have their pictures. But damned if it isn’t all sort of a blur. (The fact that most of it took place at 2 or 3 in the morning may be a possible cause for the distortion).
Well… I’ve also now been working professionally for seven or eight years. God help me when they call up telling me how wonderful our previous project went and they can’t wait to work together again. (When they bring up the project, I’m fine. I could tell you the details and evolution of every piece of art I’ve ever touched.)
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
To set the scene… for the last couple weeks, Pixel has been sleeping on the far corner of the bed… most of the day. And once she’s comfortable, she won’t move for anything short of a flock of seagulls swooping through the apartment. Day or night you can find her on the far corner of the bed.