. . . and here is one that is too sharp. I had Tri-X 400 film in the camera, so the aperture was pretty closed down. Sharpness happens. It is a challenge working with one ISO as opposed to working with an aperture setting and letting the camera choose everything else. Normally, I would never shoot at f11 unless I was shooting from the hip in the street. Having said that, though, I am inching closer. Slouching, I should say. I should have gotten closer and shot him from the knees up.
I have a Leica R5 SLR film camera that I picked up. The exposures were all off. I was hoping it was nothing more than a dying battery. It was. New battery in place, it is working like a charm. I am excited to shoot with it again. I went online and looked for lenses because I used to have two of these cameras, and some of the lenses were with the one that was stolen. I looked at a 24mm, 35mm, and a 90mm. All of them are close to $1,000. Each of them, I should say. When I bought them, they were less than half that price. Same with all the Leica M cameras and lenses. But since they have made adapters to fit all the Leica lenses on any digital camera, the prices have skyrocketed.
Last night I decided that I will simply have to bite the bullet and pay the price if I want to own them. I am close to making some bids. Actually, I bid on a Leica M7 last night but was immediately outbid. It will be difficult to get lucky on this, I'm afraid.
And as soon as I do replace everything, I'll be all about my digital cameras again. I know me. That is how I roll. I know this, and still. . . .
Am I the only one?
They are fetishes, truly. I have cameras sitting all over the tabletop where I sit and write this now, and just looking at them gives me thrills. Not quite a chubby, but. . . you know.
What would it be like to have money? I'd like to know that. I have money, but I don't have MONEY. I can live well enough, but there is no security in it. I could go tits up in two seconds. I have not trained myself very well in financial matters. It is all too difficult. And I have to admit it--I'm a little awed by people like Mitt Romney and Donald Trump. What I mean is, having that kind of money would drive me insane. All I would be able to think about would be losing it. Oh, I know I could lose it. I'd make terrible decisions and really bad deals.
I would be much better off just marrying one of them. I would be like "The Queen of Versailles." I think I would make very beautiful pictures.
I hear that everyone has had a hint of spring by now. It is almost summer here. The air conditioner will be on now until November. I dreamed last night about surfing. I do that every spring when the air turns warm. I usually go once or maybe three times. In the night, lying in bed, I think that I will surf early in the morning before work or late afternoons afterwards. I will just drive to the coast and jump in the sea. My waist will be trim and my shoulders broad, my hair the color of straw. I will have the bluest of eyes and a rascal's smile. I will listen to beach music and take my cameras with me everywhere. I will eat fruits and vegetables and fish only, and I will find some spiritual peace. I will be undeniable.
But that is not how it works out. The drives are long and full of traffic, and the days are too full of things I truly need to do. And, most importantly. . . I am not a good surfer. I miss most waves and tire too quickly from paddling out against the sets. You cannot paddle around them here. No, you have to take a beating crashing through the waves you want to ride, and I REALLY get pounded. I watch good surfers make it look so easy, then I flop and flounder and get driven back to the shore without ever getting past the break. Then I sit on the beach awhile hoping nobody is laughing at me.
But the weather is here for taking advantage of, and in a month or so, I will make my way to NYC to make pictures. I want to go to Detroit, really, and see the desperation and renaissance. I just have itchy feet right now. I want to travel.
And that is me, so not the Buddha, so full of desire. All I need is a Sugar Momma, though, and everything would clear up. Is that really so much to ask?