falling on your keys
Okay, it's been awhile since last I've posted any solid news. First, let me tell you that there are no space aliens in my back yard, despite what the police say. It might look like it from the street, but really, it's just that hammock season has once again come to Blacksburg.
My favorite pup, Otter, ran away from home Tuesday night. Due to having to travel for business on Wednesday, I didn't discover this until Wednesday night. Otter, being a hound dog, can't really be expected to stick around and wait for you to come home and let him in through the gate. Scent hounds have reputations for happily following their noses until they get distracted or hungry, and then maybe (just maybe) they'll stop. He had a collar and tags, so after a thorough check of the neighborhood with Bill on Wednesday night, I went to sleep with the idea that some kind soul would find him crossing their yard in pursuit of a scent and give me a call. A day goes by and no call, so when I get home that evening, I'm thinking about making up some flyers or something of the sort. Bill calls with a phone number seen on a "found dog" flyer and, lo and behold, Otter had managed to tear his tags off during his little adventure. Net distance traveled: four houses up the street. That's one lazy hound.
I am very thankful that these two nice folks took him in for the day-and-some that he was here, and that they were caring enough to post a flyer about him. I'm going to have to bake them some cookies or muffins or something to say, "thanks." Of course, now I have to get him some much more rugged tags and figure out just how he made it out of the fence. Until then, he gets to live the high life of hanging out indoors and slobbering me to death. The downside for him is that this means he is going to get scrubbed within an inch of his life. He picked up some nice dirt and muck on his adventure. ... Good for him. :)
The house things are moving along nicely, and I have a lot more forms to fill out on Monday at the bank. The home inspection is done, the contract is stable, attourneys and loan officers have been chosen, design and project ideas have been discussed with the Breece, and the whole legal process is starting to make sense. Yay for back yards and front porches and fireplaces!
Well, I'm off to pick up some forms and start my weekend. Film at eleven.
My Favorite Breecers is back in Cali and I'm totally bummed.
On the plus side, I'm going to be nose-deep (and distracted) in house-closing stuff for quite a while.
Well, I've made an offer on a pretty cool little house in Blacksburg. Due to some issues that the seller is having, I'm not sure if he'll be interested, but I am certainly interested to see if there is a counter-offer. More news Thursday, perhaps.
Looking at my recent posts and thinking about the one I'm about to make, I realize that I am running the risk of looking like I'm a gun-toting fire-starter with cretinous tendencies. [insert disclaimer here]. Nonetheless, I'm offering up some pictures of the monkeys shooting skeet.
How's the weather where you are? Here, we're having a typical Appalachian spring.
What does one do with a crack team of crackheads, a toaster with a death wish, and a potentially-explosive pastry treat? Well, this group decided to turn loose the competent management under the watchful eye of a trusty safety coordinator. Result? After some waiting and an apparent false start, it just burned, baby, burned. All in all, the group concluded there were some serious flaws in the experiment that may have to be resolved in a future run.
My apologies to all the crackheads for the delay in posting these, but I simply forgot.
Back from Cali, in love, and now watching a war escalate. Good and bad.
To all those who have tried to lovingly voice their opinions on this war, and to all those who will continue to do so: thank you.
Here is an excerpt from a recent speech by George Bush Sr. Read to the end, and add your own emphasis where you think it fits.
"Today we are beginning to see some difficult and defining days in the Middle East. But at the outset let me say that despite a seemingly unending cycle of bloodshed that has claimed too many innocent victims, despite the heartbreaking suffering that we see on all sides, despite a bigger rancher [sic] that continues to plague the region, I believe that in the longer run – not the excessively long – but in the longer run, the 21st century will offer leaders throughout the Eastern Mediterranean a real chance to emerge from their current period of conflict to begin building a brighter future worthy of their proud peoples.
"And I know such optimistic sentiments are not now widely in fashion, and understandably so. For me to suggest as much today might even sound on the naïve side. But, you have to remember, that in my case you're looking at someone who was right there when that, what was previously thought impossible before, namely the regional quest for peace took hold in the region. And it seems like an eternity ago. And yet it's been a dozen years since we convened the Madrid Peace Conference in Spain, together with Mikhail Gorbachev and the Soviet Union enthusiastic about this.
"As long as I live, I will never forget walking into that peace conference at Madrid that followed the Desert Storm with Gorbachev at my side and see a room full of Arabs and Israeli's sitting across from each other beginning to talk about peace. It made a profound impression on me. And, I believe, it can happen again. As long as I live I can't get it out of my mind because it was so very emotional.
"Incidentally, the Madrid conference would never have happened if the international coalition that fought together in Desert Storm had acceded the U.N. mandate and gone on on its own if the United States had gone on on its own, had gone into Baghdad after Saddam and his forces had surrendered and agreed to disarm. The coalition would have instantly shattered. And the political capital that we had gained as a result of our principle restraint to jumpstart the peace process would have been lost. We would have lost all support from our coalition, with the possible exception of England. And we would have lost all support from the smaller nations in the United Nations as well."
George H.W. Bush (Sr.), 2003 Issam M. Fares Lecture
From ashes to ashes, dust to dust, and earth to earth.
If you enjoy the fine art of people-watching, you may appreciate In Passing.
"Every modern war, however fortunate its outcome for us, has changed the world by subtracting from it abidingly. Every modern war has had to represent, in order to be won, a temporary abdication of ethical and humane standards. Every modern war has, in other words, demanded a certain retreat even of its victors and meant that they have lost in the very process of winning." -- John Mason Brown, "Seeing Things," 1950
The folks over at moveon.org have an interesting anti-war statement staged for tomorrow. You, too, can participate in the Virtual March on Washington if you so desire.
There is a very strange weather phenomenon going on outside my window here. There is this stuff falling from the sky, and it is somewhat like snow, but... not so solid. Very soft and round. And not that cold. Baffling. ... I seem to remember seeing this stuff somewhere before, but I can only dimly recall that it must have been very long ago.
I'm trying desperately to catch up on happily-missed sleep and trying to put the finishing touches on a consulting project I've been doing. I have discovered the truth in the old addage, "the last ten percent of the job takes fifty percent of the time."
Casey has departed for North, West, and Parts Unknown, but hopefully (for us or for him?) will be returning to work here in a few weeks. If so, his new apartment will be one block from downtown Blacksburg, a stone's throw away from PK's. I imagine he'll have a lot of drunken friends knocking on his door at two A.M. asking for a comfy floor and a glass of water.
I've been working on printing a series of pictures for Alan as a much-belated birthday gift, but their arrangement and toning is requiring a lot of fussing. I can post the pictures here, because he has seen them, and I don't think he reads this often, anyway. So, check out "Christmas Kiss, Third Of a Series Of Three".
Again, I say: !
I'm solidly iced in and enjoying the day off from work.
Happy St. Valentine's Day, everyone!
"The hollow of her throat holds for me more mystery and wonder than a hundred angels. When she touches me, I feel more cherished than if they bore me up on their impossible spiderweb wings."
If you're in need of an alluring read for Valentine's Day, check out the featured poem at MadPoetry. Good stuff.On a more technical note, I was inspired by an interesting use of JavaScript and the title attribute at goats.com. I decided to steal the idea, the code, and go play around. I normally hate cutesy script things, but this borders on tolerable, and might even be extremely helpful for the reader. Think "tool tips."
A yellow lab walks into a telegram office, takes a blank telegram form and writes, "woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof."
He hands the form to a clerk who examines it and comments, "there are only nine words here. You could send another 'woof' for the same price."
"But," the dog replies, "that wouldn't make any sense at all!"
Who needs fabulously funny sites like goats.com when you have Pat Buchanan for laughs? (Oh wait, that's actually depressingly funny, isn't it?)
"Layover" by Robert Hass Thin snow falling on the runway at Anchorage, bundled bodies of men, grey padded jackets, outsized gloves, heads bent against the wind. They lunge, weaving among the scattering of luggage carts, hard at what must be half the world's work, loading and unloading. Mounded snow faintly grey and sculpted into what seems the entire vocabulary of resignation. It shines in the one patch of sun, is lustered with the precipitate of the exhause of turbine engines, the burnt carbons of pre-Cambrian forest, life feeding life feeding life in the usual, mindless way. The colonizer's usual prefab, low-roofed storage sheds in the distance pale beige and curiously hopeful in the upright verticals like boys in an army, or like the spruce and hemlock forest on low hillsides beyond them. And beyond those, half seen in the haze, range after range of snowy mountains in the valleys of which -- moose feeding along the frozen streams, snow foxes hunting ptarmigan in the brilliant whiteness -- no human could survive for very long, and which it is the imagination's intensest, least possible longing to inhabit. This is a day of diplomatic lull. Iraq seems to have agreed to withdraw from Kuwait with Russian assurances that the government of Hussein will be protected. It won't happen, thousands of young men will be killed, shot, blown up, buried in the sand, an ancient city bombed, but one speaks this way of countries, as if they were entities with wills. Iraq has agreed. Russia has promised. A bleak thing, dry snow melting on the grizzled, salted tarmac. One of the men on the airstrip is waving his black, monstrously gloved hands at someone. Almost dancing: strong body, rhythmic, efficient stride. He knows what he's supposed to do. He's getting our clothes to us at the next stop. Flowerburst ties, silky underwear. There are three young Indians, thin faces, high cheekbones, skin the color of old brass, chatting quietly across from me in what must be an Athabascan dialect. A small child crying mildly, sleepily, down the way, a mother murmuring in English. Soft hum of motors stirring through the plane's low, dim fuselage the stale air, breathed and breathed, we have been sharing.
Oh yes, for Paul, here is the POTD from the first big snow. (Warning: useless content within.)
Today in Cali: high of 59 degrees, low of 34 degrees. It feels a lot warmer. There's fresh fruit that isn't strip-mined. ...
I'm never going back to Blacksburg!
It is good to know that the re-naming of our favorite corporate giants is becoming so ubiquitous. I decided to embark upon a grueling research project to search out the availability and utilization of every company-name parody I have ever heard Alan and Paul use (well, at least all those that I could recall in five minutes). This may be utterly tasteless, but what can I say? I have fabulously tasteless friends. The carefully-arranged fruits of my labor:
Hmmm. I suppose that anyone who can guess most of the original names should email them to me. How about we say that the best response (points awarded for style, humor, and additional names) will get a nice custom postcard and some fabulous loose tea from Mill Mountain.
In other news, the lure of friends, fun, and fresh avocados has finally become too much to resist, so I'm gone to Cali for a week to hang out with Breece. I'm pretty geeked about the whole thing, to say the least. Enjoy your week!
In many places across the country today, people are celebrating the life and work of Martin Luther King, Jr., reknowned preacher, pacifist, and civil rights leader. Here in Virginia, in a charming example of Southern tact, we get to share this day with a celebration of two other men's lives and works: Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, reknowned soliders who were anything but pacifists and civil rights leaders.
"Everything that is done in the world is done by hope." - Martin Luther King, Jr.
I would like to offer up a question and kindly ask for your responses: Are the reasons for seperation of church and state applicable to the seperation of business (corporation) and state? If you have thoughts on this, please send them along to answer. Thanx.
I have a fairly old Polaroid Model 360 folding camera. It not one of the sorts of Polaroid cameras that you probably know. It doesn't use the fancy self-developing square film that people shake. It is of the kind that doesn't have a flash, autofocus, or anything else fancy, and it takes pictures on the old messy peel-apart pack film. Back in November, I acquired a whole case of just-expired PolaPan 667 film for cheap cheap cheap. What can one do with tons of 3000-speed instant film and a clunky old camera, you might ask? One can take pictures of a "drunken seance."
While enjoying a lovely scattering of chick peas on my salad today, I wondered just how many other vegetables have alter egos? If a chick pea can be a garbonzo bean, are there pieces of cauliflower out there masquarading as albino broccolli? A tomato pretending to be a miniature sun-burned pumpkin?
"In dreams we feel like fish in water. Occasionally we surface from a dream and skim and eye over to the world on shore, but we again descend with yearning haste, for it is only in the depths that we feel good. During these brief sorties we notice on dry land a strange creature, more sluggish than ourselves, accustomed to breathing in a manner different from own, and glued to the land with all its weight, deprived of the passion we inhabit like our own bodies. For here below, passion and the body are indistinguishable, they are one and the same thing. That creature out there, that too is us, but a million years from now, and between it and us, aside from the years, lies a terrible calamity that has befallen it, because that creature out there has seperated the body from passion..." - Milorad Pavic, Dictionary Of The Khazars
Blacksburg doesn't have stores anywhere near as cool as Madison, Wisconsin, but we still have a few good dogs.
I finally scanned and processed some old images. Once again, despite all the beautiful surroundings, most of them are of dogs and people. What can I say, but that I don't do many landscapes. Check the gallery for some new images of the rest.
Christmas hikes, visits, and travels were great and very relaxing. I eagerly await the development of the roll from Alan's shin-dig just before Christmas. My thanks to all of those who worked hard to bend their schedules and their inclinations to make the gatherings possible, and to those who put much of their time and energy into delightful gestures of their feelings. To Alan and Paul: you rock. Everyone else: you rock, too, but not enough to get a specific mention, because, well, the Academy is now limiting our speeches to two minutes or less...
Here is another terribly short note, but I promise I'm working on something larger than bite-sized:
If you call from a cell phone and end up leaving me a message, be aware that the audio may not be coming through. Twice in the last week or so, I have come home to find messages with only tiny bits of broken audio among long sections of silence. I think one of them was my neighbor (there was just enough voice to tell), but to whoever you are, you may wanna call back.
'But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see -- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people."'
Important news from elsewhere.
[sappy: on]
The Christmas spirit is in full swing here at The House Of Christmas Pirates. The Santa hat is out of storage, the tree is up, the Christmas lights are on outside, the spiced tea is brewing, and I've found my Vince Guaraldi CD.
In case you don't know, I adore Christmas. I am a Christmas freak. I adore the spirit and smell, the attitudes, the warm break in winter, the gatherings, and a hundred other little jewels of the season. I'm do not generally like the commercial elements of Christmas, but I love giving gifts all year 'round, and December is no exception. In trying to follow the true spirit of generosity of the season, I've decided to think of Christmas gifts a bit like Tuesday or un-birthday presents. A gift is an investment of self, time, and thought to generate a small token of your appreciation for the recipient. Better one book, carefully chosen, with a thoughtful inscription, than ten books with no reason or comment. (Okay, as a book addict, I wouldn't be the least offended at ten good books, even if they were thrown at my front door with a handful of curses.)
So come by and see me before Christmas. What better gift of self is there? Bring a smile and a friend if you like, sit for a spell and enjoy some nog, tea, or ale. We'll catch up, tell some stories, and enjoy the time. Oh, and bring biscuits for the dog, because he does like the commercial aspects of Christmas, and wouldn't forgive you if you didn't get him a gift.
Oh, and the warning tag on my Christmas lights reads, "CAUTION: PROP. 65 WARNING: Handling the coated electrical wires of this product exposes you to lead, a chemical known to the State of California to cause cancer, birth defects, and other reproductive harm. Wash hands after use!"
I have a dangerous enough life as it is. I really don't need my Christmas lights trying to kill me.
[sappy: off]
That's what we did, and went back and had a Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, went to sleep and didn't get up until the next morning, when we got a phone call from officer Obie.
Oh, and almost all of the clay pigeons escaped this year. A good time was had by all.
Quick note: My house (and at least a good chunk of my neighborhood) is without phone service until (probably) Wednesday the 4th. I'm past the long arm of Sprint/nTelos, so if you're expecting to hear from me, you'll just have to wait. :)
My days are like waking dreams, and I find that any attempts to describe them outside of poetry and images are happily futile. I am deeply thankful.
I spent a good part of yesterday hiking and making photographs on Little Stony, below the Cascades. The creek was up and very playful, inviting me to take in the views, revel in the sounds, and make many images. After many hours of laughing and trying to avoid dropping my tail in the beautiful water, I was pleased but had no images that really spoke to me of the perfection of the place. As I was packing up to head out, something about the Forest Service's work struck me as... well... perfect in an unexpected way.
On older news, Paul's truck-destroying old-man-gear project worked out quite nicely.
The fine folks at Merriam-Webster say this about the etymology of the word kaput: German kaputt, from French capot not having made a trick at piquet.
They also have the following to say about the meaning of piquet: a two-handed card game played with 32 cards.
Worry not too much about the state of peace and pacifism in the world. Peace is not thing, but a way of thinking, a way of regarding your neighbor as a human, a thing of intrinsic beauty, even though he may be trying to kill you or is playing Welcome To The Jungle at top-volume over and over again until four in the morning. Since peace is not a thing but a path, it cannot be siezed, found, or manufactured. It can, however, be shaped and taught, often with much difficulty. It is native to a state of innocence, so, to mangle a phrase from Confucious:
If your plan is for a year, crush your enemies. If your plan is for ten years, buy your enemies. If you plan is for one hundred years, educate children.
And, frankly, anyone who has the energy, creativity, and innocence to make references to me about the etymology of 'kaput' is certainly doing a lot of educating in this world. :)
It has come to my attention that many folks are looking at these images (and the rest of the web) with an incorrectly-adjusted monitor. If you want the pictures (and the whole of the web) to look like they ought so they don't lose shadow or highlight detail, please set your black point and white point correctly, as shown below. It only takes a few minutes, and it will make a huge difference in how good the shadows and highlights look. Note: I recommend going to 24 bit color on your video card to do this, or I can't make any promises about what grays you'll get.
Increase the brightness of your monitor until you can see all three checker patterns in test image A. Then decrease the brightness until you can just no longer make out pattern "Intensity 3."
Now increase the contrast of your monitor so you can see all three checker patterns in test image B. If you lose detail in patterns "Intensity 8" and/or "Intensity 3", turn down the contrast a bit. When you have set the white point with the contrast adjustment, this can change the black point a bit, so go back and check test image A again to make sure.
Now go look at POTD 09 and notice that it isn't actually a picture of a black bear winking in a coal mine at midnight.
Tschuss!
For those of you playing the home version of today's game, we have a lovely video by Sylvain Chomet. For all the others, I've been taking pictures and doing things, but have been a bit too busy to update here. Peace be with you.
Have you ever had a night when you just hit all your marks?
Gliding down from the balcony of the Lyric filled with warm fuzzy thoughts, moving with and across the crowd, seeing them, with them, but loose from them, pulling on a jacket in stride, catching the arm just right, the front door closing as you approach but holding, a man clinging to the last of the warm indoors as he lights his cigarette, you cross into the cool air just as he moves, the door just a look from open, never breaking stride, two ice-cream cones crossing right before you, two laughing ball caps right behind you a moment later, a car fender disappearing into traffic, looking left, right, nothing, space, stepping onto pavement rising to meet your foot, curbs and cracks and trash cans falling into the void of the beat, the song in stride just matching the universe's plan.
It greatly pleases me that, given the right wind, two autumn leaves look just like butterflies slowly chasing each other across the field.
Ten minutes before midnight, having just arrived at the War Memorial, I am happy to discover that Echo Company is just now marching down the Mall. I stand out in the grass, exactly centered with the pillars and obelisk, and watch them file in, the two guards unmoved by the pagentry. The buglers follow just a minute behind, making their showy steps to stand before and below the Memorial itself. Echo Company is called to attention, and just as the buglers raise their horns, a soft rain begins to fall, the drops tapping out a mournful restless rhythm, nature sympathizing as it so often does. The coronets ring the longing call of Taps across the drillfield, each note shuddering in little echos off the hard stone. The last note rolls and everyone is still, focused, the rain still whimpering in soft explosions on shoulders and hats. "Echo Company! Dis-missed!" I look down at my watch. Midnight.
In years past, on Veteran's Day, I have often gone and sat at the War Memorial, watched the Corp of Cadets Color Guard there, watched people come by and pay their respects or simply marvel at the sight. This year, I figured I'd do something a little different. I woke, grabbed a quick bite, and packed my messenger bag with my medium-format camera, light meter, and several rolls of E100S. I went to the War Memorial and sat, watching, thinking, but somehow didn't get around to taking any pictures. It just worked out right.
If this places smells like smoke, my apologies. I've practically caught the place on fire a good half-dozen times in the past week.
It was a fantastic weekend with only a few bumps. I got to talk to fantastic people on each and every day, and If I owned a Magic 8-Ball (TM), I am sure it would say, 'outlook cloudy,' but if I read horoscopes, I am sure mine would say, 'buck up, old man. The Blue Bird of Funkyness sings outside your window. .. And don't forget to shave the dog.'
This space intentionally left blank.
Suuuuuprise suuuuprise suuuuprise, the dishwasher is running. (Okay, so it isn't very visually exciting, but the lights on the front panel are on!)
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Isn't life great? (POTD 09)
Bill is pretty geeked about his new car. Any bets on how long he'll go before it ends up crossing creeks and doing donuts on Tech's lawn?
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POTD picture 08 leaves we thinking about the odd sensation of publishing non-polished work. I am used to only showing the things that really speak to me, so this whole project is a little unsettling in that way. 'Tis a good thing to get out of your comfortable spaces.
Oh, and since the 5th was brutally cold and windy, I spent my "POTD time" doing prints and developing a couple rolls of film. Looking back, I suppose I could have taken pictures of that.
General note to all who read this web site: I've been getting a few comments from several people who believe that the rantings, pictures, and format are directed at/written about them. Yes, some of it is yours, but not all of it, so don't go reading so deeply into things unless you're sure. :) Oh, and if you keep asking for the alternate-universe version of POTD picture 02 and I keep saying 'no,' what makes you think I'm going to change my mind?
The Great Dishwasher project was moving along, and then Bill got his new car. I can't argue with his priorities, but I have a dishwasher sitting in my kitchen, a sink full of waiting dishes, a box of automatic dishwashing detergent, and not enough plumbing to make the whole thing go. I'd be frustrated, but that's just not in my nature.
Add t-shirts to the list of things that are good for you. Oh yes, good good good.
[soapbox: on]
Get your tails out there and vote.
Now that our government has taken to assassinating people, it may be a good time to reflect upon this little idea: Assassins always believe they are doing what is right, and in our reduction to their level we have endorsed their methods. Yay.
[soapbox: off]
And now, for something a little lighter (Lord knows I need it), here are Top Ten Recent Signs Of The Impending Apocalypse
10. Seeing the Simpsons hawking Burger King hamburgers on television
9. Tom Waits "Clap Hands" started making perfect sense
8. I'm reduced to writing a Top Ten list
7. Actually endorsed Bill's purchase of a Grand Cherokee
6. Found myself thinking, "those Spice Girls sure were underrated."
5. Had to explain who Jerry Jeff Walker was
4. My new dishwasher may actually be working tomorrow
3. Hearing Bach's First Cello Suite played on the hammer dulcimer
2. Endless refrain from "It's A Small World" stopped playing in head
(..drum roll..)
1. Natural Light -- 'nuff said
POTD picture 07 is an experiment in macro photography with very low-cost studio lighting. I'll leave it open to individual interpretation.
It was a totally favoo weekend, punctuated by exotic surprises and bathtubs full of brightly-colored power tools. (If that went over your head, you need to spend more time listening to my lightbulb jokes.) Paul threw a nice little party on Friday, and let me tell you, there is no crowd that can tear it up like a Forestry crowd. There is a good quote from Paul that night, but I have to hold off posting it because I don't want to ruin the surprise for those who must first hear it in person.
POTD picture 05 (from Saturday) is available. POTD number 04 is in my possession, but needs scanning ('tis a polaroid). As for POTD picture 06, let me give you the backstory (oh, I know, there is always a backstory with me)...
I'm wandering campus on a cold and moonless Sunday night, big clunky tripod and camera slung over my shoulder. I find a nice archway that says, "make a picture of me, sucka," so I set up and get to work. I'm making the first few images when suddenly a police car pulls up over the sidewalk and stops right next to me. The policeman rolls down his window and asks, "taking pictures there, huh?"
My brain starts running through the situation: Okay, camera gear out, regular clothes, don't have anything illegal on me, middle of the night, on campus, standing here taking pictures in front of a building... that happens to be a girl's dorm. Doh! After a few awkward moments, it turns out the policeman is a really cool guy, and we ended up talking for a bit about cameras and whatnot. Even though the picture is only so-so, I'm keeping it.
Erin, your letter goes out in today's post. My deepest apologies for the delay, but the drama has been entertaining, to say the least. As for bittersweet... the latter from reading, the former from missing.
"For Fantastic (But Impatient) Kittens"
Some people wonder
about not selling your songs to Nike,
worry that you're not writing,
and not reading their web logs:
Those daily morsels of sweet and bitter
that you consume each twilight
always leaving you feeling like you're one of a precious few
in on some great secret.
Some people delight in sideways glances
exchanged halfway across the country,
a proxy for halfway across a coffee dive.
Look away before you're seen.
But you know she just caught your glance.
Oh, you made made sure of that.
Some people see unfinished letters
and not the dates stretched across the pages.
Just what day is today, anyway?
Or maybe they don't see the images conjured for them,
the baited hooks left in the captions,
and the opening paragraphs spun but never
let loose on the high seas.
Some people write with their souls
on Snow Monkey Plum,
and their hair
in stunning crimson,
beauty on fire,
cursing toxic harpies, wondering
if you read them there long ago,
seeing them looking down from high balconies,
hearing them wish for more candles.
Some people should wonder
about selling your songs to Nike,
but do not worry that you are not writing
and not reading their web logs.
You have,
you did,
and you will.
But, to those 'some people',
sharp and charming friends,
even they claimed the cali shirt
was not that orange.
(okay, so inside-joke poetry doesn't have much universal appeal; sue me :)
!
! .. !
! .. !!
Happy Halloween!
Paul got a new truck, and it's about as much truck as I've ever seen. Dodge, 1994, 2500, Cummins turbo diesel, four wheel drive, five speed, bumped up to over 600 pound-feet of tourque. Mmmmm... truck-a-licious.
POTD picture 03 was a bit tricky. I went out into the cold night looking for some subjects for playing with split-contrast printing (taking two images of the same subject, at different exposures, and masking them together). Note to self: Remember to charge the camera batteries at least once a week, lest one get all cold for nothing.
If I were to write a book about my fabulous yesterday, I might call it, "And Now That We Know, What Will You Do About It, Mae?" .. either that or, "Dreaming In Color, 101."
POTD picture 02 was a bit of a struggle to make, as I'm not much of an indoor lighting guru. This picture was acquired by the shotgun method (throwing a pile of film at the image until I made one that works), but, as Aristotle once said, "we are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit." Thanx to Erin for the prop (I don't have anything that orange). The alternate-universe version of the image is available on request. :)
It has come to my attention that something here may not be handling the "If-Modified-Since" header line (i.e., you might just keep seeing old cached versions of this page). Until I can resolve it, please use your browser's "Refresh" function liberally. Thanx.
My POTD project has started. See picture 01.
After a few days of work in the crawl space, the ethernet, phone, and TV cables are (almost) all in the right places. There are no more cables running across the hall, and the wall-plate installations look very professional. I'm quite pleased with the results. Now if only I could get Bill to finish the plumbing on the dishwasher...
Over the last few days, I've been doing a lot of writing with the idea that I am writing 'junk' pieces. I write whatever I want, no matter how mundane, cliche, or inappropriate the topic seems. It is quite fun, although I am perplexed that almost all of the story-bits and poems are about one thing. I suppose my internals just need to spool out those ideas? Anyone else have a similar experience?
Other fabulous news exists, I'm sure, but it will have to wait until later.
The 2002 Quote Book is finally up and going. I know, it's very shabby looking this year, but I got a very late start on actually keeping it.
I've been feeling like a metabolic fascist recently. Programmers and night-owl-friends unite!
To those thoughful creatures who listen, feel, and have the courage to dance into new spaces: bless you. If I were the type to send out Christmas cards, you'd be on the list for them.
The Lyric hosted a concert last night with Darol Anger and Mike Marshall. I have two things to say: Mike Marshall is a sick (in a good sense) musician, and a mandocello is not supposed to sound that good.
To quote Robert Earl Keen, "it feels so good feelin' good again."
The leaves here have just started to turn. Despite a very dry summer, it looks like the past month of rain will save a lot of the color. A few of the maples are already in full blaze, but I'm hoping that by the time I get to hiking (this weekend), the majority of the colors will still be up. I'm tempted to try to drag in some out-of-towners for Nature's Best Painting, but I think I'll just have to plan for next year.
A group of photographers from a favorite site of mine are conducting a fairly novel "chain camera" project. The idea is that you mail around a disposable camera and each recipient takes one picture before mailing it on to the next person. I'm listed as the eighth victim. I find the idea very amusing, and while I am interested in the results, the stir created by the project is just as stimulating. Many of the people involved have produced some very good photographs, so I'm going to think long and hard about what I'm going to shoot -- it normally takes me a whole roll or two to get one or two "keepers!"
Oh, and in case you missed it, Virginia Tech won a good game on Saturday.
"The opposite of a shallow truth is false. But the opposite of a deep truth is also true." -- Niels Bohr
Phase 1 of the Great Dishwasher Project is complete. For all the children who read this, I have avoided included gratuitous pictures of Bill's rear, but here is a good one of the destruction.
We've gone CSS. Email me if you notice any glaring mistakes, attributes not supported in your browser, etc. If your browser doesn't support CSS, things should still look tolerable, but not very shiny and new.
The Great Dishwasher Project is supposed to commence today and conclude on Friday. My dishes are living in a state of fear, and I think two glasses tried to stage a revolt this morning.
Jiff: We're the peanut butter. You're the bread.
Somehow Casey has ended up living at my apartment. I'm not sure if this is one of the seven signs of the apocalypse, but it probably should be.
The publishing tools I use for InternalSound have had another major overhaul. You shouldn't notice the difference, but things have become much simpler. As a result, expect to see more new content here, or at least new experiments (next up: CSS).
"What Smile Is This I Share?", 27 Jun 2002, Mill Mountain Coffee & Tea
This subtle game
we have all played
striving
for contact, yet wishing
we will be caught
just as we look away.
That great ageless smile when it falls
just right,
seeing me playing along
in this silent game.
And we sit in the warmth of
one small moment,
perhaps wanting nothing more
than that song
on the jukebox
in the painting
the shuffle of a man
making espresso
the nodding wave of heads
from book to mug and back
and that beautiful smile of yours
as you acknowledge the play
(and Shakespeare would be envious
of how finely you have written your part).
"Let not the fierce sun dry one tear of pain before thyself hast wiped it from the sufferer's eye." -- H.P. Blavatsky, The Voice of the Silence
Sixth Annual Burkes Garden Century:
103 miles
250 riders
1 viscious head wind for about 25 miles
2 nice long climbs
1 gorgeous valley loop
4 liters of gatorade
40 miles in a paceline, downhill, downwind, and in the rain
5 hours and 45 minutes total ride time
2 very very sore legs
Summer has been keeping me busy, so here's a distillation of events:
A few new pictures should soon be appearing on the Gallery page.
A lesson in customer service contrasts:
1. AEP comes out to connect electric service to the new place, leaves without doing so, fails to leave a note, but the dispatcher indicates the shrubs prevented them from getting to the meter. (And yet they've been reading the meter and the one next to it for years, and they could obviously get to it to shut it off when the previous occupant left. Hmmm.) Several calls and a bit of wrangling later, the truck comes out that evening and they get everything working.
2. The Public Service Authority comes out to turn on the water service, but note that, when they do so, the water meter keeps spinning 'round and 'round, indicating some sort of leak in the house. They wisely turn the water off again. (It turns out the hose bib was left open.) No note from them, either, but the really nice people at the PSA office bend over backwards to help me, and the crew is out there again by that afternoon.
One of these parties is getting cookies for Christmas, and the other is going to be the object of a corporate voodoo doll. Guess which is which.
After a week of elaborate bits of trading mostly-broken cameras and horses, I am proud to have in my possession a Mamiya C330f, C220f, and three lenses to go with... the standard 80mm/2.8, the portrait 180mm/4.5 "Super", and the way-cool 55mm/4.5 -- it's only the equivalent of maybe a 35mm lens on a 35mm camera, but it looks fantastic at 2 1/4" square negative. The thing weighs about five pounds altogether, but it's old, fun to use, and makes nice pictures.
There's nothing like facinging the real possibility that you could have been killed to make you re-evaluate what you're doing with your life. I know that I've sloughed off a lot of my worries and little picky issues, which leaves me with a certain familiar lightness.
Now if only I could do something about my hair standing on end all the time now.
Well, I got splashed by a lightning strike while out riding my bike yesterday. I really can't express how interesting it was. It hit hard enough that I felt it arc into my hand from the handlebars, and my arm tingled (a lot) and hurt (a little bit) for about 10 minutes afterward. The strike was probably no more than 100 meters away... the flash and the thunderclap (which was loud) couldn't have been more than a quarter-second apart.
The weather was nice and sunny when we left, but a *nasty* storm blew up while we were about 10 miles out. We hauled tail back toward town, and were had nearly reached the gas station where we were going to hide when it happened. We were trying to stay strung out a little bit, like when hiking, so if half the group got blasted then the other half could rescue them... Geoff and Kevin were in the back of the pack with me, and they both got zapped in the hand(s), too.
Anyway, the strike hit, Geoff and Kevin and I immediately made a number of un-printable exclamations of pain and surprise. We were about 300 yards from the gas station so we sprinted up there and hid. It was exciting, but not very scary since it was very unexpected, and happened very quickly. However, when I got home, I was eating dinner and realized what happened...
It made me really think about life... what's important, what I'm doing, all the petty stuff I sweat, etc. I suppose that a little brush with death might do that to you.
The story of the rest of the night can be compressed into one sentence: "Some people claim to be my friends, but show their feelings with total disinterest and unconcern for my well-being and feelings."
I think I'm just going to have to stop talking to those people unless/until they start treating me like someone who matters. I mean, c'mon... I've got lightning bolts flyin' at me... I don't need any extra crap!
Just back from a wonderful backpacking, drinking, music, and carousing vacation in Colorado. Many thanks to Casey for putting up with me for a week. I shot a bit of film out there, but none of it b&w, so I have to wait for the lab before y'all can see the pretty pictures of Casey and his fine mandolin. More news on the vacation at a later date.
I rode the Wilderness Road Ride yesterday with about 450 other riders. It was a good crowd, perfect weather, and a great ride. I'll pretend that I wish I had known about the no-climbing detour around Wintergreen hill, but secretly I'm a masochist and love that sort of struggle.
Doc Watson concert tonight at the Lime Kiln... I'm pretty geeked about the whole thing.
Well, it's been a while since I've added anything here. Recent news:
As if you cared. :P
What is there to say today? Three people were laid off from the office up here, all good folks, all because our major customers aren't spending any money. *sigh*. We'll miss them.
Typical afternoon: I arrive home from work and find my dog asleep on the living room floor. He wakes up enough to notice I'm home, then plops his head back down on his paws. I set down my things, go over to the dog, and start scratching him to say "hello, I missed you, too." It seems like a nice thing to do, but considering how much my dog loves sleep, it might be really irking him that I won't just let him sleep.
Well, I've started down a dark, dark road: I bought goop and containers for developing black and white film at home. No enlarger or anything, mind you (I'll just stick to contact sheets for the moment), but I can already feel the pull of the dark side.
I've been reading Saul Bellow's Collected Stories. I'm only part-way through, but so far the character portrayal is very impressive. I'll have to find more when I'm done.
Well, I gave a photo on photo.net's critique page an aesthetic value of 8 out of 10, and an originality of 2 out of 10. It was a beautiful picture of a flower in a green-house on a rainy day. Man, did that guy blow his top! I know I probably shouldn't admit it, but it's actually fun to watch people lose it over little things. I wonder if it's tied to poor self-image?
I've been thinking a lot about light. Though I have no direct proof, I am beginning to suspect that my emotional memories of places are tightly bound to my pictoral memory of those places (more accurately, my pictoral memory of the quality and color of the light there). For example, the images in my head of that little lake in northern Michigan are all cool, relaxed, and without people... white shaded cool blue. My images of that short week around New Orleans are all people-filled, lively in that slow-but-energetic way that only that town can manage... white shaded warm red. I believe it is a two-way street, emotional memory affecting image memory and visa versa.
Okay, maybe that isn't too interesting in general, but it is interesting to me.
Hoo, I need to get out of town and see some other places!
As my father says, When your only tool is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail. I've become a perl junkie. And I'm not even good at it!
Some of the most enjoyable moments of my life have been spent in Chinese restaurants. Read carefully and enjoy.
I picked up my FT2 (fully manual) four years ago on ebay. It was cheap, and I've shot a bit of film with it. One of the big reasons I bought my FE2 just a few months back is to get aperture-priority (automatic exposure) mode. Too many of the rolls from my FT2 yielded pictures (mostly candid shots of people) about which I said, "crap, if only I hadn't over/under-exposed this one." Even after using it for four years, I never got fast enough to catch those half-second shots of peoples reactions, etc. Of course, the FE2 has been a great addition, even moreso than I could have guessed. It makes it so much easier to take pictures that I take it with me quite often, and the more often you have your camera, the more good pictures you're going to get.
Every time I played with someone's N65, N80, or EOS-whatever, I kept realizing how much less you have to think about the mechanics of picture-taking, and how much easier it is to focus on composition and all that other stuff. I always felt like I was cheating on my other cameras by coveting those fancy new auto-focus models. I'd have to go get my camera and shoot a half-roll of people downtown just to show my camera that I still loved it, and that I wasn't going to leave it. But deep down, I kept feeling like if I could just bite the bullet and pay the cash, I'd end up with the same leap in results as when I bought my FE2...
Well, call me an adulterer, a home-wrecker, a technology addict... whatever you like. I broke down and bought a new camera body, a Nikon N80.
Well, InternalSound has undergone a major over-haul under the hood. I finally ditched the NetObjects Fusion publishing suite and went back to hand-rolling my own HTML and publishing tools. Four or five hours of coding have yielded a simple and flexible set of console programs to mash up the words I write and spit them out in a consistent HTML format. This is just the first step in the right direction, and I hope this all works out as planned. If you have any comments or complaints, please email the webmaster.
Hypoglycemia and responsibility don't mix. I went for a ride with the bike club on Saturday before the big Easter Vigil. Alas, I had figured on a short ride and brought no food. Forty miles later, I was home and rushing to get ready for the Vigil. I ate a bit of dinner, but it took a while to kick in, and I now realize why people say having very low blood sugar is like being drunk. I didn't fall asleep or fall down at church, but it was close for a few moments there.
I picked up another camera body, a Nikon N80. It's a light-weight, missing a lot of features, but it's a genius compared to my trusty old FE2. The first roll of film I shot with it isn't back yet, so the jury is still out, but I'm impressed with the features, ease of use, and cost. It's auto-focus indicator doesn't have the "near/far" indicator that the N90 does (it has a simple "yes/no" focus indicator), but all the other controls are very simple and honest. I'm still not sold on this whole auto-focus idea, but can see the continuous-servo auto-focus mode being very handy for candids.
It's good to have legs, and even better to use them. 42 miles with the bike club on Saturday, a good short steep hike with the dog on Sunday, and sore legs on Monday. I can't wait for Spring to stay!
I recently saw the movie Memento, and was very impressed. There were elements of the movie that I didn't like, of course, but the visual design, acting, and plot were all quite good. The movie made me think about memory, sanity, desire, and whatnot. If you haven't seen it, rent it and enjoy. Try the DVD version, though... I think parts of the visual design would be sorely missed in the panned-and-scanned version.
I've spent the last two days working my tail off for a very big customer (a five-hundred pound gorilla, if you will). They are really nice folks, and actually quite fun to deal with, but I don't think they appreciate how quickly we're solving problems for them. Such is the life of a computer geek, I suppose.
Have you ever tried to undelete a file on an NTFS volume? No? I can now guess why. When I ran Windows NT 4.0, I had a wonderful safety net in Norton Utilities Undelete for NT. I disabled the stupid Windows Recycle Bin (which rarely helped me, since I do most of my work from the console) and it ran a real one at the system level. Well, I've long since moved to Windows 2000, and have no such handy utility for it. Late last week, I mistakenly deleted (not just moved to the Recycle Bin) a whole directory from my archive drive. There was nothing really critical in there, or it would have been on a backup tape, but I don't like to lose four gigabytes of CD ISO images without a fight. I went looking for undelete utilities that would help me, but to no avail. I downloaded the demo for Undelete 2.0 for 2000, but it wouldn't work on either of my Windows 2000 systems. It has a poor user interface and more-cryptic-than-usual error messages. Great software, guys. Anyway, I've resorted to a console utility called DFsee, which is designed for recovering data from damaged drives. It has a native NT executable that is terribly slow, taking about 50 minutes to recover a 600 meg ISO, and it's difficult to use (like any good console utility), but it seems to be doing the trick. I am thankful for DFsee and the ood folks who wrote it and distributed it for free. ... But I sure miss Norton NT.
Speaking of great free software, if you need a boot disk that will do everything but wipe your nose, check out Bart Jagerweij's Bootdisk at http://nu2.nu -- it has great CD drive, SCSI, NIC, and networking client support. I can boot my laptop from a floppy and copy an entire drive image over to our Windows server. Way to go, Bart!
My legs hurt from cycling today, and I love it. Between winter and work, it has been far too long since I've gotten out on the bike and just rode until I had to surrender. Cold, wet weather is predicted for the upcoming week, so I'm savoring every moment of this fatigue.
I've been looking through old photos, and I realize that I need to shoot more black and white film. I've been monkeying with different slide films recently, but the last b&w roll was Ilford Delta Pro 3200. This was my first experience with this film, and I am amazed with the range and relatively fine grain. One of the guys at the photo shop says he shoots it at 6400 all the time with good results. Alas, my trusty FE2 tops out at ISO 4000, so I'd have to dial in a bit of exposure compensation to make 6400. I'm tempted to order a few rolls of Delta Pro 400 and 3200 and try shooting them at 800 and 1600, repsectively. If Delta Pro 400 is as proportionally fine-grained as the 3200, I'm ditching my long-loved Kodak TMY (their 400-speed b&w film). Now if only I can force myself to use up the last roll of TMZ (3200, which apparently is getting replaced by a new-and-better P3200 this year?). Man, I need another camera body.
