Fatalistic Fury, with a dash of Frustrated Rage...
Current mood: Ecstatic. Like a bottle of water.
Category: Ecstatic. Like a bottle of water. Pets and Animals

Aren't we all sick of mediocrity?

Holy crap.

It's time to shake up the etch-a-sketch. We're running on borrowed quarters over here.

I'm looking around at all my friends who've done something with their lives, or followed their passions, or beat at the brick wall until it finally came down. I see people who took risks, or made "stupid" decisions, and you know what?

The fuckers all made it.

Meanwhile, I've been scraping by on next to nothing for the past few years, because "I just wanted to be happy".

 "Hey man, cool your jets. We got light years ahead. I'm gonna amble on down to the bar, or just take a nap on my couch. I'm sure I'll get a call or a check, or the winning lottery ticket in the mail tomorrow."

So I've had my gas shut off a few times on me, so what, right?

I took it in stride, and grinned while I took the cold showers, and laughed about it with my friends.

Yeah, it's fun being a groovy guy, but it's shit when you look around and find yourself uncomfortably close to 30, with nothing but 2 busted motorbikes, a handful of bills, and a car you can't afford.

Why am I so poor?

Cause I've never tried.
Why try when you don't have to, right?

Right.

That's why the cat I used to ride Vespa's with is now a decently famous artist. I'm sure it's cause he didn't try.
Just like the kid who started 3 companies before he was 22, and doesn't have to worry about shit anymore.
Or the chick who busted ass through school, made the cold calls, and banged on the door, until they finally hired her as an Art Director for a billion dollar company ...

This is absurd.

Yeah, I've got an ego the size of Montana. and it's almost as big as my forehead, but it's not bullshit when I say I'm better than this.

I can shoot circles around 90 percent of the working photographers out there, but what good is that when nobody even knows I'm available?

I've fucked off long enough. I'm too old for this shit.

2 months.

It's a countdown.

Let's go, motherfucker.

Currently listening : Hey There Delilah By Plain White T's Release date: 09 May, 2006

10:23 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Not my words.
Current mood: Small blue post it notes
Category: Small blue post it notes Automotive

I'm a sucker for groovy quotes...

One day, I'll take 'em to heart.



"It is not the Critic who counts. Not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood; who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasm, the great devotion; who spends himself in a worthy cause;who at the best knows in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat."

Theodore Roosevelt

4:49 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

But what would my Pen Name be?...
Current mood: Behind the woodshed
Category: Behind the woodshed Dreams and the Supernatural

Time creeps by when you watch it. I think I'll glue a small clock on my glasses to slow things down a bit...

Every few months I get the itch. A little needle in my side. The need to create, to make something more impressive than I am.

But I'm roasted on the cameras.
Everything in my life has to do with shutter speeds, watt-seconds, or file size. This thing I used to love has grown into a 3 headed monster that I can't control anymore. Demanding my attention, choking me with it's constant needs.

What do I have to show for it?
A long long list of  ideas and concepts that I have yet to shoot, and honestly, probably never will.

Oh, but they would've been grand. Truly.

So I'm dipping a toe. Testing the waters, so to speak.
I started a few days ago.

I'm working on an outline. Well, not an outline. More like a bunch of random thoughts and ideas. Scenes and quotes that will or will not make the final cut.

I'm writing a book.

I do fancy the thought of being a writer.
Writers are so much more sophisticated than Photographers.
I'll have to buy a tweed coat, of course...

My main concern regards what I've recently recognized as my writing "style".

I mean, come on. How much longer would a book be with all these extra line spaces?

But how can I tell a story without visually nudging the reader; to hint that it's another thought process?

Or maybe just a sidenote.

I'm giggling.

My favorite authors have, for quite some time, been Robbins, Vonnegut, and Kundera.

The Holy Trinity of Author Intrusion.

I can't help it. I like it when the storyteller turns around with a wink, and says "you get it?, eh? That was hot wasn't it? I'm glad I wrote that."

It's like being let in on the joke.

But I don't think I'll be following in their footsteps... The shoes are too big.

Camus was fantastic in the way that he could use his words, and tone to trick you into feeling what his characters felt.
Holy crap. I almost shit myself when I realized what he was doing halfway through "The Plague"...

But when it comes down to it, I think I'm going to borrow (steal) a little from Joseph Heller, and Franz Kafka.

Nutbags.

Right now, the tone and feel of the story should take the route of (roughly) an absurdist existentialism mixed (during certain scenes) with drippy sentimentality, intended to hint at a rather unpredictable subplot, complicated by an intentional meandering, on the part of the storyteller, leaving the reader, often times, confused and tired.

I will write the most difficult to read book, ever.

Literary critics will find themselves flipping back and forth between pages, trying to find out where the hell they are.

Professors will assign the book to their students, just to test their reading capabilities. Anyone who said they enjoyed the book, and understood the story will be immediately flunked out of class for their obvious lack of integrity.

I will create entirely new literary tools which will take readers months to master. Most won't even comprehend whether they take batteries, or which side the on/off switch is located.

I will be ridiculed by the entire literary community, but secretly praised for my mischief. Other writers will write about my writings. Declaring my work to be a prank by a foolish hack.

And they'll be right.

Although when asked about the story, and what they thought of it, they will stammer, and mumble, and be shown to be fools themselves, because they couldn't even understand what the book was about in the first place.

But, I'll be famous, and rich. Oh yes, richer than a king.

Because every halfwitted socialite, every numbskulled Sophisticate, will buy my book, just so it can be seen on their bookshelf during cocktail parties. They'll talk about how witty it was, and impressive the writing style was. They'll mock the critics, and the other writers, exclaiming "I don't know what the fuss was about, I thought it was an enchanting little story, and quite simple to comprehend, once his literary tools were mastered (which I did quite quickly, if I do say so myself)..."

And their friends will be impressed, and nod and say nice things about me, and someone will say that they met me once, and I really was a very nice guy, or a despicable bastard, depending on the day or time they may have run across my path, if they did do so at all..

Then they'll run right out and buy a copy of the book, and sit all week trying to decipher just what the hell is going on in the story, while still being sucked into it's whirling, dancing, prancing storyline, until they're so exhausted they simply put the book on their shelf and decide to lie to anyone who asks them about it. Much like the friend who introduced them to it did earlier.

All during this time, I'll be masturbating in the bathroom, while thinking about the cute redhead I had met earlier that day.

Wish me luck.

9:15 PM - 6 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Why don't you go jump out of a plane.

I just did.

So Adam shows up at 11am, bustin' ass and gettin' all hurried on me.

.a "We gotta go man! We're gonna be late!"

.e "I thought we weren't supposed to be there till 5pm!"

.a "well, some thing's changed. and it's not in San Diego anymore. Now it's a half hour past Lancaster. and we got 2 hours to get there."

.e "Oh, christ.Okay. Let's go."

Rolling in the Benz through the LBC, Adam gets a hankerin' for some liquor. I don't dig his handling skills, so I hop in the driver seat when he goes into the liquor store.

Now I know this is bad. and he knows this is bad, and I'm sure I'll get shit for it, but we polished off a 6 pack of brazilian beer, and the better half of a large bottle of rum on the way.

So I'm toasty, behind the wheel of an expensive-ass status symbol, and careening through L.A. county at somewhere around 100mph for a couple of hours.

We raced a couple of cuties in a mustang for a while, all up through the 14N. I'm not sure if Adam even knew that it was going on. pass. smile. pass. giggle.push it up to 110mph with the honeys on our tail... drink more rum & coke. finish a beer. pass. smile....

Calling for directions, we find that the place is running behind, and they're too backed up to take us before 2:00.
Sweet. Time for mexican food in California City. Good idea? Who knows.

Back on the road, the food's cleaning up the drunk a little. After getting lost along all the random unnamed roads by California City Municipal, We finally get there.

Wandering in, Adam suggests I do the talking. Apparently he thinks I'm not as F'ed up as he is. but that's cool.

They hand us papers to sign. including one that says "I have not consumed alcohol or any illicit substances or drugs in the past 12 hours."
Where do I sign?...

Adam can't be bothered to read any of it. Actually, Adam can't focus enough to read any of it.

The guy who runs the place is looking at us funny. I accidentally left Adam alone with him, and I can't imagine what drunken nonsense my buddy's thrown up at him.

So I ask the owner some questions about the business and how he got started. Captain fantastic gets so wrapped up in talking about himself, he forgets about Adam. So once he stops yapping, we ditch outside through the back door.

Somehow, in the middle of the fucking over the top hot desert, These kids have made a little grassy, tree-lined, pretty meadow behind the building! Sweet. And it's got a fucking pool!

Now mind you there's something like 15-20 people inside getting trained and working and being very serious and uptight about everything.
Outside, while I'm smoking a cigarette, Adam pulls off his shirt and belt, and jumps into the pool in his jeans.
Being that I don't have extra clothes in the car, I strip down to my skivvies, and amble on in.

Holy shit, that's nice.

Drunk, tired, stuffed with mexican food, and waiting to do something outrageous, we float in the cool water like otters. Alternately saving and drowning bees who wander too close to the water.

Time to get out. Lying in the sun under some great trees, we get the call to come in and start training. Adam gets the once over for not wearing a shirt, I get a bit of a stare down for wandering around in my wet boxers. So I ditch the chonies, get dressed, and giggle to myself about going commando for the high flying mission.

Training consists of about 9 minutes of explanations of how to hold your body.
That's it.
9 minutes.
9 fucking minutes of training before they toss me out of a plane? Ok, groovy man. sweet. Just point me in the right direction...

I get a korean fellow named Jun to be my tandem."Jumpmaster Jun". Good guy. Easy going.

So after waiting a little more, we hop on the plane, and take off.

12,000 feet up, someone taps my leg and yells "You're first!"

Ok. cool. no problem. I haven't really been thinking about doing this the whole time...

We move to the back of the plane, and Jun counts to 3. Kinda fast if you ask me. Next thing I know, there's no plane. I'm twelve thousand feet in the air and I've got a smiling korean strapped to my back.

Pretty rad, though.

 We fell for about 50 seconds, but it didn't feel like I was falling. I was expecting the same gut wrenching feeling that you get bungee jumping, but  with all that air rushing past you, it just feels like you're being held up by a giant gust of wind. Freaky shit. Totally wish it was scarier, though.

Easy fall, no problem. Jun lets out the parachute, and we fuck off a little, making it spin real fast and almost making us sick. I wish my cell phone had been in an easy to reach pocket. It would've been hilarious to start calling people...

Great landing by Jumpmaster Jun, then ditch the jumpsuits, and head home.

Oh, yeah, and no pictures. Not a single one. Not of us in the jumpsuits, not of us in the plane, not in the air, not landing, not looking a little dazed...
 None.
And somehow, I like that.

Now, I'm a little tired.

and I forgot to bid on the kick-ass vintage helmets on ebay!! Damn!

ok bye.

8:28 PM - 5 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment

McCarthy might've had a point....

Which is more hilarious/pathetic?

That I waved goodbye when the russian stole my car, knowing that the bags were packed, and in the back,.
or that I encouraged her to collect all the change in my house for gas before she went?
The kicker was the $40 parking ticket while trying to help her after she had just screwed me over, while finally getting my wheels back.

Seriously, my life will never be normal.

Shitty thing is: I actually kinda liked her.

The Cold War isn't over! Don't trust 'em!

Alright, back to the sauce. I got a porno empire to rebrand...

Currently listening : Tigermilk By Belle & Sebastian Release date: 13 July, 1999

11:23 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Get your hands off my bike, Motherfucker.

SO here's a bit about the whole motorbike adventure...

All of my (minimal) plans and expectations were scrapped pretty quickly once I got on the road.


I still need to sit down and sift through the pictures and my notes on the journey before I'll be able to really tell the story, but here's a little taste:




Portland, Maine


Vermont


New Hampshire


New York


New York


Pennsylvania


Pennsylvania


Pennsylvania


Ohio


Indiana


Indiana


Indiana


Illinois



Wisconsin

(all these pics are from a digital point and shoot. It's tough to get into the photography when you're beat up, windburned, sunburned, tired, lost, and all your knuckles are busted up from roadside repairs!)


9 days on the road, between Maine and Wisconsin.


Blew a piston in Wisconsin (Not to mention a couple other stopovers at bike shops on the way, that cost me a few days riding)


Luckily, I was just a couple hours outside Minneapolis, where Vanessa lives. She picked me up, and I ended up staying in Minnesota for 3 weeks. Made some new friends, found enough work there as an assistant to pay for the trip, and drank more than I have since high school. All this while I was "waiting for parts"


The bike is in 700 pieces in her garage right now. I had to fly back for a few weeks of work in L.A.



Pistons, Rings, Gaskets, new clutch plates, and a handful of other parts are on their way to Minneapolis right now.


I'm flying back on August 22nd to put her back together, pick up a few days of work in the Twin Cities, and start on part two of the "In Harms Way" tour '05


This has been a completely insane trip.


I love it.

I'll post some crap up about the weeks spent in Minneapolis some time soon. First I gotta sift out all the dirty pictures... ;-)

Currently listening : The Datsuns By The Datsuns Release date: 04 March, 2003

4:20 PM - 2 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Change of address...

Okay, so the plan didn't work out quite so smoothly...

On my birthday I camped behind a bike shop in Indiana.

The bike blew a piston in Wisconson.

I've been in Minneapolis for two weeks.

I'll be here for another week at least.

Waiting for parts and taking up space...




I've met some of the most awesome people on this trip.

But I'll never be able to fully describe this adventure.

Jesus. I hope I can remember half of it...

12:33 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

One week
Current mood: Quixotic

Next Monday, June 20th (Kel's birthday), I'll be boarding a plane out of LAX, and flying out to Portland, Maine, to pick up the bike.

I'll rebuild the carbs, replace the cables, do a little work on the engine, then ride my 1967 CB77 Superhawk over 4000 miles back to Long Beach, Ca.

Stopping over in Minneapolis, MN, to pick up a sweet piece of ass named Vanessa, who'll be riding on the back of my 305cc, 40 year old bike, that's in questionable condition.

My 27th birthday will probably happen somewhere in Montana. Or maybe South Dakota. That is, assuming that we'll actually make it that far.

I have no idea what route we're taking to get home.

I have no idea where we're staying each night.

I have no idea if the bike can handle the trip.

All I know is we have to get back by July 8th, so Vanessa can catch a flight back home.

I also know that during the trip, we'll swim in every lake we pass, eat from every orchard, lie in the sun in huge empty fields, and generally piss our lives away for a few weeks.

I think I've put more thought into what camera gear I'm bringing than anything else...

By the way, I've named the bike "Rocinante". If you get it, I think you'll understand....


Wanna help out?



Because you probably didn't get me anything for my birthday last year, either.

1:50 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Summer's coming

Anybody got a spare set of cables for a P200?


(I know. It's still not finished. Lend me a couple hundred bucks, wouldja?)

9:30 PM - 0 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Breaking into the Big Time
Current mood: Sarcastic

After years of schooling and thousands of dollars in tuition, materials, and rentals...

After working as Chief Photographer in a multi-million dollar company for over a year and a half....

After experimenting with as many lighting styles as my little head could imagine...

After buying a sh*tload of equipment and learning more about lighting gear than 3/4 of the photographers I've worked for...

After shooting for magazines, PR firms, television shows, music videos, fashion shows, advertising, catalog, and restaurants...

I am finally- FINALLY- getting a half-assed part time job on the weekends, shooting uncreative, cookie cutter, assembly line headshots, for pennies on the dollar, with a money sucking talent agency that'll take on just about any boob who walks through the door.

Sweet Jebus, I've arrived at last.

Anybody want an autograph? 5 bucks a piece.

9:20 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Holy fuck, I need a job.

Anybody looking for a cabana boy?

Maybe a delivery driver for cross country shipments of Llamas?

Perhaps you just need someone to lean over while you sign contracts on my back?

Low low rates!

You'd be crazy to pass this up!

call now.




(initial mointhly retainer fee of $2500 due on first day of work.)

9:12 PM - 1 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

What do you do when you're so poor...?

What do you do when you're so poor you can't pay rent, and your bills are all about a month and a half overdue?

Go to Hawaii.

I leave for Maui on Monday morning to stay for a week and gape at pretty girls in bikinis... and less.

Don't wait up.

1:46 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

More nazi than republican!?

You scored as Democrat. Democrat 100_font> Anarchism 83_font> Socialist 58_font> Green 50_font> Fascism 25_font> Nazi 17_font> Communism 17_font> Republican 0_font> What Political Party Do Your Beliefs Put You In? created with QuizFarm.com

Let's recap:

100% Democratic. (I thought our country was a democracy...)
0% Republican. (I don't know about that... seems kinda biased, no?)
17% Nazi?!?! (Whoa. hang on there fella. I know I'm a little German, but seriously...
That just seems a little odd....

9:33 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Fantastic?

OK! Drunk Again!

So where do we start?

How about the fact that I haven't really worked for 2 months?

Oooor the tenadncy to get drunk whenever James says "Hey, you wanna go to Joe Jost's?" at, say, 11:30am....?

Meanwhile, I'm wasting away in my apartment, wondering where I'll get money for food when the Ramen runs out.

I wonder if this makes me a full fledged loser? No job, no money, very few frineds at the moment,....

Jebus, when do you suppose I'll start shooting again/? but I suppsoe money needs to ome in before Ican spend it for shoots.

damn. if my head wsan't spinning as much as it is, I'd be sending out emails and advertising my ass off.

"What did you ahve planned for today, anyway?" asks James when Ipick him up at the airport....

"Nothing, I guess, why? you looking for a drink?"

Smart move.

Now elvis sits here bitter and meowing trying to get my attentinon.

No. you stop going under the house, and I'll start petting you. I think hes been exploring farther and farther into the muck, as his clothes are getting more and more.... muckish... but he never chagnes out of his pajamas.

that wasn't the most graceful reference to Hobbes, was it?

drunken idiocy and foolishness aside, i need more muses.

the one who's on the podium now is too drunk all the time to shoot with.

I have too many curiosities about differnt lighting styles I want to check out, but hate wasting peoples time to test lighting I don;'t know will work or not.

damn. the brains shut off agaoin.

maybe i just need a nap.

now how nice would it be to spoon right now?....


hurumphadahagaha.
ciao....e

7:02 PM - 4 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment