La's a lazy lazy bum today... The fog is overtaking the outside world, and I managed to read some, vacuum some and clean the bathroom a little bit... Talked to Julian who is still in Berkeley and most likely won't battle the traffic on the bridge to come get his monitor, which gives me another week with it... Not like I use that computer for much other than the occasional dvd-rip and aol-password change, seeing as my Pops is a paranoid android.
Sigh... Last night I leafed through some of my most recent journal entries, which are from over a year ago... Some good stuff, mostly very embarassing and kinda tough to go back to those times, bad times and good times, and times I'd rather not remember in Santa Cruz. I'm so lucky to be where I am right now that looking back at those days just sends me reeling with laughter at what a goon I can be. Now that I have a relatively stable job, a fine home and a life that is average, normal, exciting and full of day to day ick just like everyone else, I'm changed, but still the same old goon I always was, and always will be...
I miss my photography, mostly, but for whatever reason it doesn't seem to be what I'm motivated by anymore. At least, I haven't had the impulse and inspiration to get out and take pics, there's no darkroom yet to use and no little La standing on my shoulder and looking through my eyes to tell me to take this, take that, make it look good on film. Oh! FILM! That's what I'm missing... Yesterday I went to Adolph Gasser and took in those 4 rolls of mystery film to be developed- I'm looking forward to seeing what I took last with my old n80 and olympus. The film aspect of photos are what I want back in my life- the digital empire is overtaking my artistic function and making me computerized and lazy. Just like now how I want to write again, but my wrist and hand hurts after 5 minutes of gripping an old familiar pen, while I can type a helluva lot faster than I can write... Old feelings, but still no excuse.
Anyway... I leant Jan the digicam to take insurance and evidence photos of our late John's crashed motorcycle. Bummer that he had to go and die on 101 but that's the risk we take by travelling, two wheels or four, people do stupid fucked up shitty things on the roads, and I am not one to complain about accidents, they happen and there's nothing I can do about it but be safe, and pay attention.
Ho hum. More shit in my life that I'm procrastinating on: mailing Joe A my tax information, hoping he can dig me out again like he did before, nobody wants to owe the gubbament munnies, and especially me, and it makes me hate feel icky. Money has always made me feel icky. Responsibility, intimidation, burdens, guilt, it is hell. Back to my old argument of how life should be free. We're born and we have to pay to survive. At least it gives us something to do!
So here's an example of what I used to write about my photography:
The art of photography gives me the capability to snatch a moment out of time and put it in a frame. From my eyes to my vision, from the click of the shutter to light being caught on film, my memories are transformed and made valid. It's exhilarating to take a slice of life that catches my sight, save it on a piece of paper the way I see it, and revel in its becoming something different for someone else. I am surrounded by things I want to photograph, I do it for kicks, I do it for life...
No comments:
Post a Comment