Originally Posted Sunday, August 24, 2014
I have a new camera to work with, a Sony a7s. It is a strange little camera, and I won't bother you with too many nerdy details. I'll just say what I like about it. It is small, light, easy to hold, and it has a full-frame sensor. Oh. . . and it takes pictures in the dark. Oh, again. . . and it can shoot in silent mode which means people don't hear the click of the shutter which means I can be really, really stealthy (sleazy) about taking pictures in public. I tried it out just briefly yesterday, first around the house, then at the greasy diner, then in the mirror, around the house again, then in the parking lot of Fresh Market in the dark. I will need to learn to work with it the way it needs to be worked with, but I'm already in love. I took a picture in the mirror in a dark, windowless bathroom with no lights on at seven o'clock this morning--and got a picture. It is crazy.
There are some drawbacks to it, too, but let me work out the kinks before I talk about that.
Oh. . . one more thing. . . I bought a converter for it that allows it to use my Leica M lenses. I haven't really tried much of that yet, but will today.
What this means for you, my friends, is that I will post a different kind of picture here for the foreseeable future, little snapshots of things I see in my life, things that will remind you of the times. I don't know yet. It has a tilt screen on the back, so I can use it in the same way one would shoot with a medium format camera like a Hasselblad or a Rollei, looking down at the camera rather than at the subject through the eyepiece. It makes a difference in the pictures, I promise. Now I just have to get the balls to start asking people in the street to stand for a portrait. I don't know if I can do it any more, but I will try. The camera is going with me everywhere I go. We shall see.
But let's talk about me. Last week was miserable and now I look like shit. The stress and the bad diet and the lack of exercise aged me ten years. I woke up yesterday and shook my head. My face felt like bad putty. The image in the mirror confirmed that it had, indeed, been transformed. I wanted to start afresh. I wanted to start anew. I put on the coffee to brew and took my secret liquids and pills to start the healing process. I sat at the computer to bring up the news and wait for the coffee maker to beep. When it did, I got up to a mess. The coffee never made it into the pot. It had run all over the countertop and kitchen cabinets. Fuck. But I have gotten better and more zen about cleaning up messes since I've had the studio to work in. I make messes there all the time on purpose. So paper towels, water, and some cleanser. Finally done, I realized that I had forgotten to put in a filter. I put a filter in and set the coffee to grinding and brewing and went back to the news. When the coffee maker beeped to tell me it was finished doing what it does--the same fucking thing. Coffee and grounds all over the place. I wasn't so zen the second time.
I decided to go to the diner for breakfast. I would drink the terrible coffee there. Bacon, three eggs, toast, and hash browns.
Later in the day, I went to the gym. Afterwards, I called my mother to see if she needed anything from Costco since I was going to have a tire that was leaking air checked. She said she would go with me. I knew it would make her happy, so I said we might have to get a hot dog while we waited for the tire repair. She was down for that. But Costco on a Saturday afternoon is a mess, and the tire guy said it would be a two hour wait. I said I'd come back another time. I wanted him to put air in the tire, and I planned on leaving, but my mother was like a shark that sensed blood. She was in a real hot dog frenzy. I've never seen her quite like that. She was not going to do anything until she had a hot dog.
I was already regretting it. It was my first time eating at a Costco. I haven't had a hot dog for years, at least not from a vendor. Have you been to a Costco? Jesus. The hot dog bun was a yellow color. Yellow bread? Why? We sat down at a rigid plastic table and bench that was bolted to the cement floor. There was something vaguely crunchy in my first regretful bite. Jesus Christ. But no matter what, you don't stop eating a hot dog. Salt and fat. . . the taste buds crave it. And so we sat surrounded by other "diners" eating sausages and pizzas, all for less than two dollars a serving. That's the genius of it, I guess. Genuine Kirkland Hot Dogs. Among the throng. Of the throng.
I regretted having eaten it before we got to the car.
Just to top it off, just to make sure my salt and cholesterol were off the charts. . . I got take out baby back ribs for dinner. Yup. I could feel my heart seizing up as I ate. I through plenty of good liquor on top to cut the fat, of course. By bedtime, I was puffed up like a the cliched toad. Sausage fingers, sausage toes.
And that, my friends, is the way to. . . whatever. I will start over today on my road to. . . whatever.
O.K. O.K. I'm screwed. Whatever.
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