Thursday, March 31, 2011

Photojournalism

Design and writing are very similar. For example, if a sentence doesn’t sound right, it won’t look right either. A sweet sentence written in an ugly font is like a streak of poop across a pretty face. I think I’d find a writing assignment as equally exciting as a design challenge – I’d study references (both visual and factual) the same in both cases. I’d search my imagination for good ideas. I’d sketch an outline, build a base, add and edit.

Design and writing once gave birth to photojournalism. Photojournalism - get paid to absorb an environment, capture that experience with a camera, and write about it. I’d be good at that. No, I’d be damn good at that. Photojournalism is that day dream job that pulls on me from time to time. It started after I bought an old 35mm Cannon AE-1 at a thrift store in San Luis Obispo. No, it was earlier - a magazine. Mummies, topless women, dinosaurs, elephants, ship wrecks, cannibals, rain forests, volcanoes and tornadoes.  National Geographic: every boy’s dream job.

But could I disappear into a life of hotel rooms, fast girls, passports, airports and lenses? Embrace that little wampire in me? Follow Hunter's lead?  Trade in my Subaru for an all-American iron horse with a fiery anus.  Walk through exotic lands with a pair of aviators and a bandanna of ether.  Meet strange people. Publish my experiences for the Others to read. Could I get an interview with the one employer in the United States seeking a full time photojournalist? Probably not. Maybe I’ll move to Dublin. Drink beer and herd sheep. Collect rain water. 


Wednesday, March 30, 2011

My Parents Are Cooler Than I Am

My parents are cooler than I am. They greet half the store when they grocery shop. They have more friends on Facebook than I. They host weekly dinner parties. They attend the finest concerts in town without ever buying tickets. They wear back stage passes and meet the stars. They do the twist with Chubby Checker and joke with the Smothers Brothers. They photograph Paul McCartney while he plays live on Letterman. They just bought each other kayaks. My dad paints in his studio and plays ping pong with poets. My mom bakes deserts and auditions for the Amazing Race. They will spend the summer playing with their grand children, drinking margaritas on their shaded patio, paddling around lakes, and planning their next adventure. My parents are cooler than I am and it ain't even close.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Happy Birthday E

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three, twenty four, twenty five, twenty six, twenty seven, twenty eight, twenty nine, happy birthday!


Sunday, March 27, 2011

Happy Birthday Mom

Queen of the classroom by day.  Celebrity guardian by night.  A wonderful mother, always. 
Love, 


Friday, March 25, 2011

Aleutian Geese: Till Next Time

So you left Humboldt to nest in Alaska a little early this year?  You didn't see this storm coming, did you?  Is it a little chilly up there? Why did you leave so early?  Did you pick up on the bad vibes?  Did you hear about how Humboldt farmers are tired of you eating up to 50% of their annual grass production?  Did you hear how Humboldt hunters just received the green light to hunt you through the spring?  I'll see you around, Aleutian geese.  You'll know it's me.  I'll be wearing an orange vest and carrying a boom stick.


P.S.  I'm not impressed by your migration.  When it gets too warm in California you leave for Alaska, flying over pristine shores.  What should take you a few weeks takes you months.  Why?   Because you stop every half hour at the finest rivers, lakes, and ponds in North America.  You rest and have sex. You play and bully humans.  Give me a break.  Migration or vacation?


Rainstorm

The rain has been relentless. In Arcata, you get used to the rain. An umbrella or poncho can be found in every locker, office, purse, apartment, and automobile in Humboldt County. North Coast rain loves the wind and rarely drops in without it.

I’m watching this love affair from my window. It’s warm and dry under covers. Hot coffee by my side. It's freaking pouring out there. I’ve lived in Arcata for three years and can’t remember rain like this. Serious storms give me butterflies. Thunder and lightning pull me closer to god than sunshine ever did. I’m ready to get out there - ready to lace up my shoes and run. I'm not interested in staying dry under the redwood canopy. I want the marsh, the bay, the heart of this storm. Give me your worst, Weather. Wash away my worries like a baptism from hell. 


Thursday, March 24, 2011

Don't Cry, Little Wampire

Don’t cry, little wampire.  There’s no need to be sad.  Life without love isn’t so bad. 

Don’t ask why, little wampire.  Life’s not fair.  Our nights are eternal, you’ll be happier there.

Don’t sigh, little wampire.  It’s not as bad as it seems.  Join us tonight and let go of your dreams.



Monday, March 21, 2011

Road Trippin'

Long drives aren't what they used to be.  I drive slow now.  I take lots of breaks.  I stretch, sigh, moan, and mumble complaints to myself.   A slight drizzle seems to always follow me for hours, too soft for quick windshield wipers and too heavy for that slow speed.  My posture is poor.  I fidget.  I avoid gas stations and restroom toilets, preferring the privacy of bushes while cars whizz by (pun intended, thank you very much).  Gas coast over $4 a gallon.  The passenger seat will surely be covered in garbage and spilled coffee.  A headache will likely ensue and there's a solid chance I'll greet a CHP officer or tow truck driver at some point.  


While driving back to Nevada City yesterday evening, I attempted to rekindle my road trippin' spontaneous spirit.  I pulled over by a flooded pond outside of Willits.  I get out, stretch, breath in the cold fresh air, and snap a few pictures with my cell phone.  I look around for something spontaneous to explore.  Nothing.  I could skip stones.  I could take more pictures.  Or not.  It's cold and windy.  I should be driving.  I'm wasting time.  I'm getting old.  

Saturday, March 19, 2011

I'm Too...

I'm too short to dunk but too tall for bath tubs.

I'm too lame to dance but too cool for school.

I'm too poor for restaurants but too classy for fast food.

I'm too stupid for Smart but too smart for Stupid.

I'm too ugly to model but too handsome to care.

Friday, March 18, 2011

The Cup is Half Full

Bills and loans will take your homes but sloths will never hurt you.


Thursday, March 17, 2011

PCT Dreaming

As April approaches, a few hundred thru-hikers will be finishing their final preparations for a 2,650 mile hike from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail.  They will average 20 miles a day for 4-5 months.  Everyday’s morning mission: walk north.  In order to do so, many will quit their jobs.  A few will be enjoying retirement.  Some will have struggled to save money despite having planned for years.  Others will have spontaneously dropped out of school.  Loved ones will be left behind.  Flimsy relationships will end.  Homes and yards will be neglected.  Cell phone contracts will be dropped.

These thru-hikers will be well aware of the challenges: unrelenting physical pain and discomfort, loneliness and boredom.  Their backpacks will be practically empty - weighing less than 20 lbs.  They will have daily, borderline erotic beverage fantasies.  Their bodies will harden like wet concrete.  They will adopt trail names like Lost, Grey Beard, Ricola, Warner Springs, and Llama.  They will hitch into resupply towns like Vikings - raping and pillaging motel showers, pizza parlors, and liquor stores. 

They will arrive in Canada by October.  No trophies or news stations will be there to greet them - only a dimly lit dive bar that takes their picture and sticks it on a wall.  The bartender gives them a beer - on the house.  They lean back on padded stools and zone out over taxidermy. They mentally retrace their journey - through deserts and over mountains, through rain, snow, sunburns, bugs, bears, snakes, and sores.  California, Oregon, Washington.  The bar is warm.  Their beer is cold.  Their walk is finally over. 

PCT 2011, how I long to join you.  GOOD LUCK


Wednesday, March 16, 2011

A Few Thoughts on Writing


I’m not a huge fan of explanation marks.  Who wants to be shouted at while they sit down to quietly read? Life is loud enough.  I’d rather use bold or italic if I can help it.  Curb your enthusiasm, please.

I enjoy editing - cutting out the fat.  Less is more.  Sometimes complete sentences seem unnecessarily wordy.  And I don’t mind starting sentences with And or But. 

I’m never quite sure what to do with commas.  I basically use them to slow the reader down whenever I feel it’s necessary to do so.  I’ve decided to commit to apostrophes (I’ve over I have.  It’s over it is) – in an effort to stay consistent and “cut out the fat.”  Efficient or lazy?

I don’t mind getting a little corny.  One must dig through granite to get to gold (or blast into it with water cannons and TNT and filter the rubble through sluice boxes and to hell with the farms below).  Too corny? 

I pay closer attention to my own writing than anyone else ever will.  My goal is to amuse myself.  I like that writing allows me to wrap up memories and thoughts into pretty little packages - my own personal file cabinet.  I attach pictures and titles for quick reference.

The more I write, the more I enjoy reading.  The only thing stopping me from reading is a recently acquired anxiety over silence.  I’m working on it.  I’m about 200 pages deep into Wicked.  Expect future references to epic quests, Kansas, revenge, witches, and misunderstood characters…I am easily influenced.



Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Aleutian Geese: Reality Check

Earlier this month, 30,000 Aleutian geese arrived in Humboldt County. The marsh serves as a nice rest stop during their yearly migration from their winter home in the San Joaquin River Delta to their summer nesting grounds on the Aleutian Islands in the north Pacific. They are huge. And aggressive.

I love my Arcata marsh runs. I do not allow weather, hippies, dog poop, or sickness to interfere. Or water fowl. Yesterday, I was challenged by two different Aleutian geese while I tried to pass them. They held their ground, stared me down, puffed up their chest and literally challenged me to pass. I ran off the trail to avoid the confrontation. Today, an Aleutian goose crossed the line. As I ran by the giant goose went for me - not from the side but diagonally and face first. I out juked it and ran away. I punked out.

After the incident, I stood by to watch others pass, hoping to witness another attack. I noticed something interesting: the geese have no fear of humans but they are terrified of their dogs. Dogs are one leash away from a wild goose chase, and these Aleutian geese know it. Humans on the other hand - harmless. Does that give them the right to bully dogless humans? No. I think they should be scared and distrustful of humans. Keep a safe distance and stop harassing kind people who are just trying to enjoy a run.

Warning: The next time one of you takes a lunge at me, I'm going to put you in your place. No side stepping, no unreasonable fear of you. Aleutian Goose, prepare for a reality check. Lunge at me again and I'm punching you out.


Friday, March 11, 2011

Safe in a Storm

Dry in my tent.  Body is spent.
Muscles ache.  Barely awake.
Bag is warm.  Safe in a storm.
Sentence is blurry.  Sleep in a hurry.
Book drops.  Wind stops.  
Eyelids retire.  Thoughts expire.


Sunday, March 6, 2011

Little Wampires


Little wampiers wander around town. They arise from their caskets while Others lay down. They dart by windows while disguised as bats and dance with the alley’s cats and rats. By morning they’ve vanished, like a dream.

Dear reader, little wampires aren’t as mean as they seem and only hide from the sun so they won’t be seen. Why are little wampires so shy you wonder? Why won’t they play until Others slumber?

They wait for the freedom of night’s empty playgrounds. They wait for a break from that screeching sound of Other’s daily merry-go-rounds. Do you ever feel tempted to ignore today, to ignore obligations and shove Others away?

Why dear reader, don’t be ashamed if you do but be mindful of that little wampire in you.


Wednesday, March 2, 2011

10 Lessons from the MAC

#1)  Kids are resilient creatures

#2)  The welfare system needs to be rethought

#3)  Gratitude is the most reliable key to happiness

#4)  Great social workers are incredibly underpaid

#5)  A loving family is priceless

#6)  Great single parents are impressive people

#7)  It is never too late to change your life's direction

#8)  Don't use Meth

#9)  Character is one's behavior when no one's looking

#10)  Wonderful co-workers are golden