Saturday, May 24, 2008

Eating Apples.

I forget about this town sometimes. Sorry, city. The City. It’s as if this place is a universe of its own, with small solar systems spinning around at different paces within. Sunday I went on a nature hike with 45 000 other walkers, 6.5 miles of gridlock exercising, if you will. Granted, it was for a cause, successfully collecting some 7 million dollars to fight AIDS. Thursday I had an assignment to photograph a businessman in his office who subsequently announced he’d just lost two million(!) dollars overnight (ooops), and in the same breath offered me espresso. He didn’t even flinch. In fact, he smiled even more broadly. Wow. Then there was the wedding assignment in Tribeca, two lovers getting hitched at a loft, which happened to belong to a famous Pop artist, as in late 50s art. Casually he was wedding the couple, yet not casual at all, as I had photographed this same painter five years prior when his work had invaded the whole Guggenheim museum. I think they called it a retrospective. Hellonicetomeetyouagain, as I’m hoping my awe isn’t showing too much as my nervousness trickles out of my pores and stains my armpits. Awe! Sometimes this town, city, universal gridlock of a place is just too much to handle. In a good way. I think.

Monday, May 12, 2008

Emotions

They run high, especially at airports. Old friends, family members, the car service guy from Brooklyn who doesn’t know where he’s going nor speaks any English, emotions everywhere. The worst part about meeting someone at the airport is the waiting. Worrying about your meter expiring, thinking about the work you’re missing. Regretting you didn’t bring that book. Or flowers! How could you forget the flowers! But wait, in America, flowers, like chocolate, Pepsi and convenient snack sized potato chips, come in vending machines, so if you had that affair or forgot that anniversary, savior is conveniently placed in a machine. Welcome home.

Saturday, May 10, 2008

CrumGum

In an alley under a market behind a bar stands a wall. Once upon a time this wall was just like any other brick wall, standing solid, protecting it’s inner sanctum from forces fumbling outside. Until one day, one fumbler deposited a piece of gum, radically changing its fate forever. Because, like all things one person does, another has to mimic and so on. Until finally the end result is a wall no longer recognized for it’s bricks, but for its crummy and colorful array of gum, rendering it brilliantly disgusting.

Webdings

It’s all the rage. Getting married. Wiser people than myself blame it on age. I remember when my parents were my age, they were really old. Adults even. The fact that I can remember my parents being my age, not only makes me old, but also a late bloomer. I’m not bothered by this. In my generation being a late bloomer is all the rage, as well as saying all the rage multiple times in one blog. Which is another thing that is all the rage. Blogging. My most recent friend to get hip and engaged was perhaps a bit more curious than the others. She’s a woman who likes other women, until she met a boy she liked more, and now they’re engaged. She is a self-proclaimed hasbian, making it all the rage enough to earn its very own hip word.

Saturday, May 3, 2008

Break Up

It’s spring! This is evident by the sun being up when I get up and go to bed. Spring is, as always, highly unpredictable. One day there will be people in shorts and flip flops running around eating ice-cream with glee in their faces and a skip in their hop. The next day ice-rain will prevent mail planes from landing anywhere in nowhere, and put wool shoes back in fashion. All the while people will shake their heads and wonder what happened to spring, certainly this has never happened before. As far as I can recall this event takes place most everywhere seasonal with the same outcome. As it were, spring also signals another very important event in Alaska. Break up. It’s the time when everything shifts, but until the change is complete limbo rules. You can’t travel on the ice, and ice renders your boat useless. Driveways are knee deep in mud, and people use the puddles on their lawn as training ground for the upcoming canoe trip. The bear resurfaces after its long doze as do odd creatures from other bubbles. So as I watch the white man in the extravagant indian costume bob to his iPod I take a minute to realize I’m going through my own breakup. I’ll sure miss this wonderful and smelly place.