oh and this asshole gas station clerk wouldn't give me a drink of water after walking 4 miles in 90 degrees because i didn't have a quarter. capitalism hard at work.
i'm all drugged out right now and for once i feel okay.
woke up. dream. was with the readhead. i was underground working, we were trying to find the fifth artifact. my job was to build these research probes that would go from state to state looking for the fifth artifact. it was worth 900 million dollars. our competitors were after it too. in our house we just rented we had these hoses that were hanging from the cabinets that were perched high on our 16 foot ceilings. the hoses were supposed to come down at the perfect length but the previous owner left them uncut so they were all bunched up when wound. i cut them down then we used the excess later. now we were walking through the park. it was spring. everyone who was alive during winter was dead. there was more.
i feel so much better doing this. it's like having a girlfriend to listen to all your bullshit without listening to her advice that i'm not going to take.
i still can't figure out how to type this shit with a cigarette in my left hand. the power just went out. i don't know why but these fucking raccoons keep coming up in the yard. they're all over this neighborhood. this one always hangs around at midnight or so. i've tried three times to catch him so i can punt his ass across the street but he jumps into this bush work. there's another one a block away or so that just sits next to a tree and stares. i kind of want to get a photo of him but i don't have a tripod worth a shit right now.
i could do it at 1.4 at 4 or 8 seconds but i've got this architectural focusing screen in the F2 so it makes it really hard to shoot at a shallow dof at night. better off at 5.6 or something for 20 - 40 seconds but that's risky with him moving. not worth the film really, more of a digital shot.
i'm passing time because this is an allnighter type of thing. i need to shower and get ready to walk several miles. this wasn't interesting.
hey mitt, go put one of your fucking wives on the roof of your car and drive into a supernova you asshole.
i'm back, but it's only been five minutes. some boredom. i have to walk today to get to work. have to finish this project this week. someone's giving me a ride at a location. better than fucking walking 12 miles with 50lbs on my back. i'd take the bus but i don't have any money right now. the bus system is a load of shit here anyway. in about the same time it would take for me to wait, ride, get off, wait, transfer, ride... i could walk it anyway. so might as well save the dollar that i don't have.
i don't have a bike right now that's the problem. my other one fucked up last fall. i rode it over to her house all the time and after too many hills the spokes just broke all over the road and shit. some stick got in there. i don't know. that's what i get for riding a hipster vintage piece of shit. need a masi rando and a thousand.
we were laying on the couch and listening to the cure last night. which reminds me of the first couple of posts on here. i hate them because i was going back to my old ways of writing which really meant sitting there and thinking about what i was going to say without just saying it. i like this better. it's easier and i don't sit here for two hours trying to say something when really it's nothing.
no one's going to read these. so it's strange that i'm talking to my computer like it's a person i'm telling a story too. i'm documenting this moment and how i feel about shit. so i can come back to it later and realize that i haven't changed at all.
these fucking cops at the gas station down the block always stare at me like i'm up to no good. i'm just trying to get in and get out. i think people think i do drugs and all this other shit. i don't. i can't. i can hardly smoke. i get paranoid and my neurosis is turned on hyper. i've never done any other drugs, i'd be fucked. but with that said i really have no respect for the police.
i was stopped last month for fucking walking. walking. the cop wanted to know what i was doing. i said, "walking" and then he asked me where i lived. i'm 25 asshole and besides my name you aren't privy to shit. fucking walkers destroying america.
so let's get into more detail on this, shall we? that's what the last couple were leading up to i think. don't worry, dumb pot head ex roommate. i know you thought my girlfriend was fucking hot and even though she liked your stupid dog i wouldn't subject her to an obvious felony going on in the backyard. that's why i never brought her over. i'm sure you're a good guy. you were actually really nice to me so i hate to talk shit about you on the internet. i wouldn't say hate. i just didn't like you. we live in fucking omaha, nebraska. and you basically represented every asshole here that thinks they know shit about fine art and are some form of high class. i don't know fuck all about fine art because i don't care. but i know finding roommates off craigslist, jc penny's loafers and a $20 tie doesn't make you high fucking class.
omaha can't be unique on that shit. i think everywhere in this country everyone takes themselves to seriously. i used to take myself too seriously. see before where i said i would promote this shit all over the place looking for comments and likes and kudos and hugs and support because i wasn't confident in my work or what i was saying. right now the only person reading this is some dumb eighteen year old girl who has a crush on me. i'm not worth anything of your time, trust me.
back to the details. yes. so she's leaving for new york in about eight hours. she's staying with a guy. surprisingly that doesn't bother me. mostly because we're not together right now even though we've spent the last couple weekends with each other. i've also been privy to some behavior which makes it even less bothersome. she'll be back in a week. we have two more days together then i'm leaving. my details are weak, but maybe they'll come later.
after the last couple of nights i'm walking down to the trainyard and hopping a freight. heading west. i don't know where i'm ending up. i'm taking a canon d7 with me for video work and my nikon f2 for prints. it could be a documentary, i'm not sure. i already know the d7 will be the majority of my photos. as long as i have a fixed lens on it. i don't really want to carry around 50 fucking rolls of film. then get home and develop all of it.
i want to hit the reservations but everyone is telling me not to. i mean, the worst that could happen is they think i'm some fucking federal agent and they kill my ass. but that's not likely. i'm troubled on how to shoot this excursion. it's not really about documenting even though i think that's the vibe i've been giving people. i don't really give a shit about any of that. i haven't told too many people that i'm trainhopping. they think i'll die or get my legs cut off or something. i don't really care.
i just want to get away for a while. escape all of this. see the country and meet people. fuckers that don't have internet or facebook or even know how to do that shit. that's who i want to meet. all of this is draining on the mind. cause of neurosis and other developmental issues we haven't even begun to touch on. you know? sit there on facebook and think that people's concern or likes actually matter, they don't.
i do it too. i get my fucking jolly's off when people "like" my photos but really my favorite photos no one likes. and that's okay. it doesn't matter. i could just put a $5,000 price tag on some of it and they'd think it's good solely based on that.
i took second place in some photo contest last month. i didn't even get my prize which was a fucking print of the photo. how is that useful at all for a photographer? give me some film or something i can use. i can get a print of my work on the cheap anyway. useless. now they have some contest for wildlife. i don't shoot that, at least not with film. waste of film. i have a couple decent shots of animals but nothing that's driving me to go out and shoot it again. mostly what was nice was taking second place with a film shot. in the midst of all these people using digital.
that shit doesn't matter. the nice thing about film is i hardly have to post process it to get it how i want. the tone and character of the film gives me what i want anyway.
so back to something. i don't know, i'm bored of this.
i pretended to be butthurt for him. sorry i had to take a break there and light another one. i've got to quit this shit but i really don't want to. i need to get off soda. i will when i leave. i probably have cancer already. that would be weird. not surprising. i've been listening to chromatics all night like a hopeless romantic. she's leaving for new york today. i care but i don't. that guy wanted to shoot photos with me. i didn't want to.
i only shoot what i like. be more pontificating i fucking know but i'm no studio photographer. i don't like that shit. i can do it, but i don't like it. i hate flash. the only time flash works is if you want something really clean, which is not how the world is, or if you want an obvious retro effect which can be cool. but we're all different. i don't hate others that use flash. i just hate the shit. my worst photos are taken with flash. thank god for the latitude of film.
some local photographer scoffed at my comment about 9 degrees of latitude on film. go shoot at 100 with your digital at dusk and try to pull it off without your lens being wide open and without a tripod. i had to bump a digital up to 3200 the other night to get the same shit at 3.5, point.
i'm no expert. some of these guys are. i know my tools and how to operate them to get what i want. that's the extent of it. i'm trying to get better at this. maybe tomorrow.
i'm outside smoking these fucking newport 100's and i can't type worth a shit. i'm documenting the fuck out of things now for myself. i used to promote this shit all over facebook and twitter and your mom's yard. my poor ego. this ashtray is full but i only smoke half of the 100's and then smoke the rest later to save money, like a fucking bum.
i'm basically homeless at this point. i'm living with friends and then hitchhiking around the country for a few months. i tried to live with a couple of douchebags last year. one pretentious fuck from craigslist. that was a mistake. i hope the cops find the weed you're growing in your backyard because you're a fucking idiot. a three year old would know how to operate that better. good luck in your play. i hope you're reading this. email me.