Posts Tagged "light"
Much like my city of residence, the Internet never sleeps. It just gets really, really boring sometimes. Unlike my city of residence, on the Internet, those times generally occur after the close of business on weekday evenings. When people aren’t at work they really don’t have much of a reason to procrastinate, which is the Internet’s primary reason for existence, and so, they probably aren’t on the computer and are off living their lives (unless they’re, like, a total nerd). I have no idea how people used to get through an eight-hour day at the desk before the dawn of the Internet… I mean, I guess they just did their jobs (???). Weird.
In any case, I care about the Internet, because without it, I have no idea how I’d get through an eight-hour day at the desk. And because I care about keeping the Internet as interesting as possible, I’m disregarding every blogging best practice I’ve ever learned and updating at one in the morning. Indeed, I will light up the night with sunset photography, because otherwise, the sun would never set on the Internet. I mean, aside from Tumblr and Instagram and Facebook and pretty much every other self-indulgent mode of expression encased within these three w’s that loves sunset photography, which, I guess, is practically the entire Internet anyway, come to think of it… but, uh, whatever. On with the flicks for fuck’s sake. If nothing else, they’ve got to be at least more interesting than a bunch of dumb words.
Quick tip: when posting routine, dime-a-dozen sunset photos, include periphery shots to provide context, keep things visually interesting, and add to the ambiance. When it comes to sunsets, ambiance is everything… actually, particulate matter in the atmosphere is everything, but that sounds less attractive. When scouting for periphery shots, ask yourself the following questions: How was the lighting in your one-bedroom apartment? How did the soft, golden glow emanating from your curtains fill the room? How high were you? Ultimately, it’s that last one that matters most, but they all play an important role.
What’d you cats get into this weekend?
Personally, I’ve been spending too much of my summer from this side of the shades. Nonetheless, whoever invented good afternoon light was a very smart man / woman / divine progenitor (if you believe in fairytales, that is).
But you know what I believe in? The direct descendent of good afternoon light, sunsets like this one. They’re the only greater power I need. This one paired quite nicely with a crisp summer ale and a vaporizer loaded with fresh greens.
Apparently I had some anxiety over starting the week as I spent much of last night tormented by psychotic dreams. However, that evening, I also had watched the trailer for Event Horizon, one of the most deeply disturbing films I can recall seeing as a young, impressionable adolescent. So it might have been that. Or it may have been the entirety of the $6.99 Trader Joe’s hummus quartet, ostensibly my dinner, which I consumed between the hours of 12:00 and 1:00 am, which is likely the truest horror of them all.
Nonetheless, it wasn’t all bad. At some point my subconscious thoughts turned to something I often dream of in the daylight hours, skateboarding, and I was whisked away to a completely imagined, but beyond perfect, spot — a giant castle/museum/plaza covered in white marble. Perhaps it was a vision of heaven, remembered by my subconscious before I was born, I don’t know, it’s entirely plausible. And the best part is, as I opened my eyes to the dream, charging downhill atop my board, I looked to my left and there was TNT, Tony Trujillo himself, a man once described by Jason Dill as “when [he] skates he looks like a beautiful Indian on fire.” And indeed, he is. We skated together all night, and when I woke up this morning, he was gone. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.
[Images via Chrome Ball Incident]
But anyway, here are some photos (of my own). Not related to skateboarding, or dreams, or Leonardo DiCaprio in a dream, or Indians on fire, or anything. Just a few ran-dumbs from a similarly gray day, perhaps one spent dreaming of skateboarding even…
Man, light is just too cool. These types of photos might be totally self-indulgent, but it’s my blog and I’ll act like a cat chasing a laser pointer if I want to.
I took 7 nearly identical shots of this tree, and not a single one of them is sharp. I guess that’s what you get for trying to take a picture out of a filthy, rain-spattered window. Nonetheless, I wanted to get a shot anyway since there are always a downright Hitchcockian level of birds in this tree outside my window. I don’t know why, I guess it’s more comfortable than the other trees in the area? The drinks are cheaper? I walk around naked too much and it’s funny to them? Who knows.
Alright kids, this is going to be quick because I’m up past my bedtime, and I’ve got to go back to the salt mills again tomorrow. You see, I gotta make that bread, otherwise I won’t be able to put any of it on the table. Pup pup, at least it’s Friday and I can put my troubles behind me, hidden by the haze of a few pints. Here’s a few photos from earlier this week, when a UFO beamed some hapless New Yorkers up to its science deck, where they’re likely to be used for horrific experimentations and… and sexual tortures as well, obviously.
It looked like it hit somewhere in Lower Manhattan… close to Ground Zero. By the time I reached the Williamsburg waterfront to get a better look, the tractor beam had dissipated. Not a trace left behind… those poor people.
Look closely — there’s a boat in that photo. It’s crazy… it’s like a stealth bomber, but it’s a boat! A stealth-boater! …
Now that’s a real werewolf-shittin-in-its-pants moon right there! Hoo-wee!
Welp, that’s all I got, and if those shots aren’t New York fuckin’ City enough to inspire your night on the town then you know what?
Fun fact: Some doe-eyed college freshmen get a piercing or tattoo when they first move to New York City. Me? I bought the stupidest t-shirt I could find at one of a million overpriced, shitty head shops/piercing salons/dildo emporiums on St. Mark’s Street — pretty much the intersection of Times Square and time to smoke a rock near the square at Astor Place.
Oh to be young and dumb. No matter, those days are gone. …Now I’m just dumb.
After a week of blistering temperatures, the weather gods seem poised to bless us with some rain. Typically, I hate rain as it prevents me from partaking in my manchildish hobby of choice (skateboarding). But right now, I’m actually almost looking forward to it. It’d be nice if some of the wetness soaking the streets of Brooklyn wasn’t just the sweat pouring down my back for the first time in a while.
Anyway, speaking of that manchildish hobby of mine… I think I’d better get to it before the rain does prevent me from partaking in it.
Trying to remain productive while the weather finally shows some signs of life again is beginning to prove difficult. And to be honest with you, that’s just an easy excuse. I actually spent most of Sunday playing video games inside.
That’s all I got for now — frankly, there isn’t much of a story here. Just a bunch of pictures of lights and shit. But you should be used to that by now, I mean come on.
The bar scene in New York is an experience something akin to that of moths drawn to a flame. A night crawling around Lower Manhattan has at once an irresistible attraction, and yet it so often ends in flames. But that’s just another reason why they shouldn’t put candles in a crowded room full of extremely drunk people.
At the very least, you can usually get some decent shots along the way.
Here’s another little batch of photos from around my apartment. They’re all, like, totally rando.
Incense is one of the more respectable side effects of being a long-term doobie-smoker. However, when your neighbors start mistaking the incense for marijuana, it’s kind of defeating the purpose.
A tin ceiling is a pretty decent trade-off though, I suppose.
One of the most important tools in any creative type’s arsenal can’t be purchased at an art store. In fact, in New York City it’s hard to purchase this thing period… unless you’re born rich, or get rich at some point before dying, like Curtis Jackson managed to accomplish several times over. I’m talking about apartments here. If your living space doesn’t inspire you, or worse, if it actively cramps your creativity, it’s time to start browsing the Craigslist postings again.
Thus, it’s important for me, and likely most self-proclaimed hobby photographers, to have an apartment worthy of photography. It’s great to always be stumbling upon things in your own home you haven’t seen before — not to mention a little unsettling and certainly unhygienic, but that’s besides the point. Unfortunately, I must confess my latest personal headquarters aren’t quite as photogenic as my previous refuge in Chicago. Granted, as a side effect, I’ve ended up venturing into the wild out-of-doors more often to fulfill my photographic impulses. But that doesn’t change the fact that I really miss being a lazy shut-in. So here’s a batch of pictures captured within the four small walls that contain my nearly limitless potential for awesome things.
Speaking of containment, one of my favorite tactics when confronting the common larger housefly (and occasionally larger means much, much larger) is to trap them in between the screen and the glass of whatever given window they decide to furiously buzz around for 20 seconds at a time. Every once and a while I feel a pang of guilt about it, until I look down and see Baxter Stockman glaring back at me. He’s been there for about four months now and the little fucker (big fucker, really) is taking his imprisonment like a long-standing resident of the Bastille. What a champ.
Couldn’t help but notice the irony in how much time I spend looking out windows, at windows, and around windows when I’ve made a prison out of one for many intruding insects. Perhaps that’s why the idea came to me so readily, indeed, perhaps that’s why I don’t feel all that bad about it either. Depending on the size and visual interest of your apartment, it’s not so unlike being trapped between two window panes yourself.
Many a wayward college student has found himself sucked into the infectious spiral of New York City nightlife. Myself included. First you’re swept away by it, and fall a bit in love with the spectacle, the energy, the ludicrously overpriced drinks. Then, you kind of start to hate it, but still have a degree of loyalty to “going out.” And then, you really hate it, move to the Midwest for two years, and quickly transform into a bitter old man. And I think that’s called “maturity,” but I’m not totally convinced yet.
To my knowledge, this is the only surviving portrait of my old cellphone. May he rest in peace, or, I guess, whatever box I shoved him in and subsequently forgot about. I recently upgraded to one of those new cellphones that you can touch and it helps you be even more socially inept than before — really loving it so far.
Those of you who have spent any time personally abducted by the alcohol soaked streets of lower Manhattan probably recognize that image. If you’re lucky, financially comfortable, or relatively sober, riding in a cab over one of the city’s bridges on your way home is usually a great way to cap a whirlwind of an evening. It sure beats waking up half drunk on the subway at 5 AM, realizing that you missed your stop and are now in Coney Island just in time for the sunrise, anyway.
It’s been a fairly exhausting week by all accounts — not sure if I’m quite living up to my “come out with guns blazing in 2011″ resolution… but I guess the good news there is that it wasn’t actually a resolution of mine and, even it it was, I’d feel pretty insensitive about it now in light of all the blood libel going around lately. Anyway, this isn’t my strongest batch of photos, but I’m sitting on a pile of unused photography that is months deep and it’s getting kind of uncomfortable. So off they go.
Living on the first floor has been a nice experiment. I always wanted to know how it would feel to be trapped in a cage like a feral man, trained since birth to be a ruthless killing machine. Of course, when I signed the lease nobody told me I could have just watched Unleashed instead, which is a shame since, personally, I’ve always really related to Jet Li’s martial arts prowess and mediocre acting ability.
You would not believe the number of people who immediately assume something is wrong with this cactus when they see it. Or, perhaps you would believe it because you too assume something is wrong with it.
“Ummm… is that cactus supposed to have cobwebs all over it?” They ask me.
“Oh shit!” I say, “Wow, I didn’t notice that massive spider infestation that’s been accumulating for the past six months only a foot and a half away from my face until just now! Phew, thanks for pointing that out!” Coincidentally, I don’t have very many friends.
And that’s it — curtains for another week. Now let’s get to the fun part: forgetting about it all over the course of the next 2 days.