I tried to appreciate you,
As the good friend you’ve always been to me.
I tried to appreciate the time we spend,
Enjoying each others’ witty company.
I tried to appreciate you,
With all of your clothes on.

I think I failed.
Again.

It looks as though we’ll be having,
Another Night In.
Now your clothes are in a pile with mine,
Messy on the floor:
That’s a beautiful metaphor for the condition,
You and I are now entwined within.

I’m trying to appreciate you,
With all of your clothes off.

I am intensely succeeding in this endeavor.
Again and again.

I never used to understand the relationships that people made between their motorcycles and freedom. I used to think it was some kind of hokey, cult kool-aid drinking American patriotism thing. (It probably is for a lot of people.) But now I get it. Riding makes me free. Not in some kind of political freedom sense, but in being out in the wind, closer to the scenes that roll by. When I travel, I’m not watching television. I’m a part of the space I slide through. And I am free.

Seattle traffic, however, is a different story.

The night started rough,
But we got through it.
And things got a lot better,
It all ended on such a sweet note.

I thought everything was roses,
Green fields,
Blue skies,
And soft beds of jersey.

The night concluded so softly,
It ended so quietly.

I step out of the shower,
Back into reality,
And I see that more ended than I thought.
What the hell happened last night?
What have I done?

You’re trapped in your own doomed elevator,
A steel car hurtling downward at blinding speed.
A date with the ground. An appointment with conclusion.

They make buttons for people like you.
Are you going to take your pride down with you?
Or will you reach out? Push the button?
Call for help?

You goddamned, hard-headed fool.
Push the neglected little button, already.

Something unknown in the sky,
A beacon in the dark,
And it’s not from this world,
It’s not from my world,
But I’ll surely stare at it in wonder.
I’ll let it take my mind away.
My imagination runs around its rings,
Like a single-minded champion on his race track.

Fads.
They’re like tourist attractions.
All the rage until you see something,
Shinier and rowdier down the street.
Then you toss them off,
Throw them to the ground,
Forget them forever.

But then,
You always were kind of a tourist.

Everything is regulated.
It needs a place to go.
It needs a way to get there.
It needs a way to scream for help,
When the pressure becomes too great.

It’s too bad, though:
The meter only gets checked once a month.
The pipes are solid,
They can take more pressure than you can.
And worst of all, no one has a clue,
Who has the keys to the lock on the box?

It’s not always effective,
But like Death and Taxes,
Everything is regulated.

Self critique: This is one of the first shots I took on the photowalk that this shot is from. My light was severe (sun was going down fast), shadows long, so considering all the less than ideal circumstances, I’m as happy with the result as I could be. Only issue here is this was before I remembered I need to start shooting RAW all the time, so in touch-up, there wasn’t a lot I could do except convert to black & white. Not great but not bad.

There’s no privacy left in this world.
There exists no secret corners
Out here in the City,
In this doomcrete jungle.

We’re always watched.
Presided over.
Judged from afar, and protected from
The truth?
The lies?
Freedom?
Or just ourselves?

Until they can make cameras
That can look inside my filthy mind
I really don’t give a damn.
They’ve got nothing on me.

So go ahead and watch us.
We’re watching you right back.

Self critique: I really have no excuse for this picture! It’s not that great. I was just photowalking some Seattle alleys somewhere between Belltown, Pioneer Square and the Waterfront when I saw this camera responding to my motion as I descended some stairs. It looked like some kind of three-dee cam or something. So I backpedaled up the stairs again and had a little show-down. It was hard to keep the camera still enough not to “drag” the red lights. They were dancing with every twitch I made; some kind of motion detection.

So mostly, this was just something interesting I saw and shot it as best as I could, which wasn’t that great. My light was failing fast in the evening.

The Mind can become full.
Sometimes we must select things,
Things that we must discard,
Discard because, in the greater scheme of things,
They yield the least benefit at the cost of
Considerable space.
Considerable mental chewing.

These things become hard,
While our Minds become
Unfathomably tired.

So we chew them.

Chew them all one last time.
Suck out every last drop of flavor.
Suck it out.
Stick it to something Forgotten.

Most people choose very strange things
To discard. To spit out.
No one can ever truly understand
Why do people select the things they do?
Unless one is ever so inclined
To ask.

So we come to you now:

You’re walking away from what you’ve chose to discard.
Your back is a retreating shadow
Displacing down the alley.
As I watch your back swagger away, I hear
A snort on the air, a derisive sniff.
You keep walking away.

And I look at what you chose.
What you chose to leave behind.
What you discarded.

You followed the rules:
You chewed it up,
You spit it out,
And now you’re leaving it in your past.
Added and relegated to rejected and tossed ideas.

Peace.
You chose Peace.
Your Peace.

I wonder:
Did you give one last suck
To draw the last of the flavor?

Self critique: Decided to get into shooting RAW more. Not really sure why I wasn’t before, and kind of regretting it now. I really have no clue what I’m supposed to be doing in RAW, but here’s a stab nonetheless. And so far, I’m happy with the results.

I decided to play with the curves a little bit. So I hope, when I see this up on the site with the rest of the shots I have to date, I don’t feel that I went overboard and blew the colors out too harshly.

I never thought I would ever like
the taste of raw fish, or scallops,
or any kind of meat at all.

The thought was slightly repulsive to me,
even if I could understand and respect
why others would do such a thing.

I just love these foods so much,
I couldn’t fathom enjoying them
in any other way but the way I already do.

But I tried. I shut up, opened up, and took a taste
of something new and odd, unfamiliar,
outside my personal comfort zone.

Now it’s something I have to have from time to time.
A fetish: something to be craved, something fresh every time.
It feels dangerous and risky, and still more healthy.

And when it’s really good,
it melts on my tongue.

Sometimes my life needs to be tried raw.

Self critique: Poor lighting and a lens I already know to be very slow forced me to crank the ISO (and it’s still blurry up close) and accept some abysmal colors. I think I need to teach myself how to compensate the colors when in this kind of low light. Taking personal control of my white balance, maybe?

Some mornings I walk to work,
(I usually follow the same route),
And I realize I’m taking a one-way street
to becoming a little more crazy.
In my mind I look at things,
Mundane, simple, boring, normal things,
And I see things that just don’t make sense.

So much randomness.
Things that don’t belong.
Like a crazy face,
On a frying pan painted red,
Hanging from a One Way sign,
In front of a glass corporate financial building.

What the hell is that doing there?
Reminding me where I’m going, I suppose.

Self critique: For a snap I took while walking to work, I’m pretty happy with the results. I managed to keep my blurry setup clear and still, I love the colors and the reflections, and despite there being a lot going on I’m impressed that the different colors and textures pop so well. I looked at the different color channels in black and white and those are all pretty nice as well. In the end, I liked the vivid red of the pan, so I kept the color. I might try an alternate version where all is in black and white, except the red pan. A project for a rainy day. Only complaint I have? The highlights on the post are blown. If this were less a walk-by snipe, I might have played with the exposure a bit, maybe an aperture adjustment? I realized I was in auto mode after the fact. Figures: it’s probably why the shot turned out so good. :-/

When the light filters in
through glass and wire
you can see its light,
but you can not see its source.
What creates it.
What sets it free.
It could be the most ugly
monstrosity of light in the world,
but in your mind,
it is glorious,
it is divine.

But you’re still inside
behind glass and wire,
and it’s still out there,
a place where you are not.

Shot at the Missoula Fire Sciences Laboratory, in Missoula, MT.

Self critique: This shot is a reminder to me that I need to be more sensitive to how light sources behind something can greatly impact exposure. In this instance, a slight overexposure might have brought out additional detail in the trim before risking washout in the texture of the glass.

Sometimes you have to look ahead
to something more stimulating.
Something of more discovery.
Sometimes you need to simply focus
on what can heal you
from right beside you.

First aid kit in one of the Missoula Fire Sciences Laboratory‘s labs.

Self critique: This was shot in color, and I’m pretty happy with the result that way. In the end, I decided that there was a certain vintage theme to the picture and wanted to realize the shot in black & white. I feel the black & white really does emphasize that theme, in this case.

The time for testing and simulation is over.
The books must now gather their dust,
the chalk must now catch in the sun’s rays
as they pierce the windows and impale the silent room,
and the bell mustn’t ring out ever again.

Everyone out of this classroom,
everyone out now.