Poster Girl

I'm running out of images to post.  I'm not running out, exactly.  I have thousands and thousands.  But I feel that I am being redundant posting old work of models you've already seen.  And I've not been making any more.  I shot once in the last month, I think.  Last night, I had agreed to a shoot with a new model, but she texted in the eleventh hour asking if I had any references.  I didn't want to text what I really wanted to say back to her.  Rather, I told her that it was O.K., that my shoots were relaxed and fun but I didn't feel this one would be that way.  The other things I wanted to say I left out.  It wasn't the asking for references which I could supply, but the hour of the request.  I'd already rescheduled an inspection of my house for another day.  I have a studio full of expensive equipment.  It is not like I am a fellow with a camera asking her to meet me in some remote location down a dirt road, or even that I suggested shooting at somebody's house.  Whatever.  I am not very good with people lately.  I prefer to be alone.

So I post a picture of another of the feminists I shot with in my last spurt.  Note the tattoo between her breasts. She is not just a verbal feminist or simply ideological.  She spends hours every week working at health clinics and with political organizations on and off her college campus.  She wants to come back and shoot with me again.  I am flattered when someone sees through my contrarian ways.  She must have because I kept challenging the assumptions of a feminist argument throughout the shoot.  She must know that I approve of her totally.  I often admire the people I argue with.

Not always, though.  Not tyrants.  Not anyone who bases his/her arguments on external authority.  I am bad then.  Very, very bad.  I can't abide being told what to do.  Nor can you.  I am certain we share that trait.  We here are certainly all contrarians which makes me think to hush up now.  This is simply preaching to the choir.

My life has been so consumed with practical things lately that I have not been much good with "the poetic moment."  I have provided little written imagery but for my weather reports.  I will have to get out of the house.  But not this evening.  My alma mater plays the hippest team in the NCAA tournament tonight.  I'm not one for watching sports any more, but I will tonight just to see.  Maybe I'll have some wine and cheese and olives and crackers.  Oooo. . . I live an exciting and culturally rich existence.