Posts tagged ‘everyday life’
All I wanted was a well written ‘top ten reasons to do THIS in street photography.’ But every time I came up with a list, I found out that someone like Erik Kim or Steve Huff had come up with a much better list three years prior. So I gave up on lists and for a while I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. And then one morning I decided I was just going to say one thing about street photography like I’m some kind of Buddah, and then to title the whole journey, “The Main Thing I learned About Street Photography I learned in the Bathroom.”
I think it would intrigue some people, and to add a little more incentive, I’d have maybe a webinar, and then when no one expects it, I’ll yell out, “Visit my page and I’ll give you secret codes for cool black and white presets and my thesis on the connection between street photography and solar power!”
Don’t get me wrong here like I’m angling for a scam. There is something to be learned by all this, and to show I’m not a phoney, I start every meeting by repeating three times, “Street photography is like peeing,” and I say it at different speeds so that no one knows when I’m going to say something or jump out at them. When it’s time to seal the deal, I know they’re ready to accept that premise. I have everyone repeat the following at least seven times a day.
Don’t let anyone tell you how or where to pee. That is the art of street photography
One of these days I’m going to get myself my own train. I’ll have it connect to all my secret hideouts so I don’t have to go through all the trouble of squaring the blocks or hacking into the mainframe of certain large law enforcement organizations. With all the new spare time, I’d probably start collecting animals like zebras which as some of you know aren’t horses. When it’s not a horse, you don’t have to worry as much about all those regulations.
You can read just about every book in the world about parenthood, but none of them will really explain to you how much fucking laundry you’re going to be doing. When you start the whole endeavor, you’re going to invariably volunteer to do the laundry rather than having to deal with the children; let the mother figure those buggers out. But soon that one laundry bag you and your wife had when you got married morphs by necessity into two laundry bags, then six months later, morphs into four of those fucking blue IKEA bags that you can carry pumpkins in. It’s going to be up to you not only to bring all those clothes down the elevator to the washer and dryer, but to bring them back in the next hour, so that you can spend the next hour trying to fold the clothes, then another half hour putting them away without fucking with the drawer system that you had no say in creating. The whole thing is completely thankless like you’re some kind of bass player. No one gives a shit if the laundry is done or the clothes aren’t on the floor or left in the washer overnight. But when you fuck with the laundry, somehow the whole house becomes a mess, and then everyone starts feeling that you’ve caused a god damn squalor. Heidi Murkoff will be the last one to tell you this, but don’t volunteer to do the laundry under any circumstances. Learn some nursery songs and how to have tea parties and other diversionary tactics when you still have a chance.
i hate it when i’m doing something real focused, like hanging clothes in the closet, and then turning around to catch my cat by the door staring at me. i hate it mostly because it happens pretty much all the time. i could be surfing the internet and turn around and in the corner of my eye, my cat is staring at me from underneath the table or on top of the ten foot bookcase. not a lot of people stare at me when i’m on the street because i am trying to go through life completely anonymous and i’ve worked hard to go mostly unnoticed by everything and everyone. but then this whole cat thing puts all the work i’ve done into question. i stay up at night worrying about it. i know cats are skilled and everything but if i can’t hide from my own cat then i might have a real problem. but what i really hate is when i think my cat is staring at me and when i give a double take, it’s my unfolded boxers or a hand towel discarded on the floor. and then i’ll see my cat staring at me from some other place in the room. sometimes i pick up the boxers or hand towel and throw it at her.
they’ll probably come down when we’re all sleeping. maybe on the night before christmas or when the earth is engulfed in a massive hurricane and everyone is huddled inside behind taped windows. i’m guessing they start in the forests and other heavily wooded areas, to get their footing and work on their balance. since they’re careful, they’re going to spend maybe a year or so hiding and sneaking about, watching our movements. there might be a report here or there, nothing national, about “sightings” up in the “mountains,” but we’ll probably just talk about that when we’re drunk. and then when all the ducks are in a row and they control all the machines, they will come through our doors, five for every one of us, and lock us in cages for a few years. in those years, there would be a big debate amongst the invaders of what to do with us, like keep us alive underground or use us for entertainment. but then it becomes clear, after most of us become brainwashed and unable to do anything, that the invaders are going to smash us and use us for crude oil to power their new machines. the population is eliminated except for small bands of humans, hiding in tunnels under the ground and in the rock faces.
I have nothing against NPR. Let me first just make that clear. What I have a problem with is sometimes they put really questionable stuff on the air, which makes me wonder whether the stuff I think is legit is really, in fact, just plain bullshit. Take for instance right now. On the air, someone is interviewing a father-son team, who wrote some book about “What waiters really think of you.” First of all, I don’t give a fuck about what waiters think of me. I’m not sure what else to say after that.
last night i got into my car and drove into the ocean. at the time it didn’t seem like a stupid idea. i had to get to coney island and going via the ocean was the quickest way. by the time i made it a few hundred feet off shore, i realized i had a lot longer to go, and things were taking a lot longer than i expected. i was able to turn the car around but the current prevented me from going anywhere. i wasn’t freaking out because i could see land but the more i pressed the gas, the more i just stayed in the same place. i thought about jumping overboard and pushing the car but then there might have been sharks.