Friday, 26 April 2013

Anyhoo. Some stupid spring bug got to me and by the time I realized I do in fact not have hay fever, I developed a fully fledged virus farm in my face. Hundred and forty handkerchiefs and about a dozen various drugs (for boiling stomach acid, allergies, pain, sleep deprivation, the usual horrors...) later, I was sick and tired <sic> of feeling so low and started going out to shake it. Jogging with Drej, something we do more and more during doggie walks, was out of the question. Fact I don't ever really sweat much (It's actually important to learn how to do this when you're crossing a desert in June.) was completely overthrown. But instead of trying, I drove to St.George's, General's home town, to shoot for an assignment. (Which will or will not satiate the assignment givers, no way of knowing that nor, in fact, caring at all.) It was actually a good idea to do that.
          The morning was very nice, clear and fresh - the proverbially perfect spring morning. I even stopped halfway there to shoot an iron melting ... plant thingie. Yup, there's me, climbing over scrap metal, wiping my nose, making no sense, trying to get the perfect shot... Hello, hello. Bye now. But the next stop on my route was an old locomotive on the train stop. While shooting over and under there, an elderly gentleman approached me and asked what's up. I told him I just stopped to shoot it cause it seems interesting. We started talking and he took me to a small (old whistle stop office) museum he assembled and it was brilliant! it was SO cute. I felt so good about seeing The Station Agent... I truly like station offices as they were at the start... When there was nothing much else about the town breaching modern times - just suddenly someone pulled a track through it, added telegraph and post office service and eventually running water and electricity and paved roads followed... 
           Further, I began exploring the town through the lens. I am still not entirely at home with *not portrait* photies, so looking for good shots of a town can be divided into two categories. One - you have an amazingly picturesque town, very easily portrayed. Two - you have a very bland town with almost nothing really picturesque to photograph. Any retard can be an excellent landscape or architecture photie when at liberty to pursue their own great motifs. But a town like St. George's? A lovely town indeed, just not so much ... photogenic.
          I parked at the only sweets cafe and set to. For two and a half hours I walked around, changing lenses, greeting people, circling buildings, leaning, squatting, bending, climbing, focusing on details and wide-angle landscapes postcard-style takes... Such a cool, cool task. An excellent practice in something that does not come easy. As my good friend, colleague and mentor, My Brain, would tell me, the trick to a good set shot is math and a trick to an excellent set shot is an unhinged, unpredictable detail that elevates the, well, set scene to an action memoir. Brain knows what it's talking about. Or so it claims.
         I've noticed almost all angels on graveyards look like the pale Sandman 2.0, something I should probably use in the *next* book ... 
         Afterwards, I drove up to my ancestors and ate and napped like a small kitten, to get my strength back. General took me out to the movies in the evening. That made me feel tons better. Next day we went for a walk (well, he rode his bike and I strolled through the woods, listening to the Oblivion OST). Lots of good sex. I found an old flute uphill at my parents' house and am thinking of self-teaching to play it ... poor birds in my street. Uf, that reminds me, still have a penguin to draw and I've been pumping myself full of gracious mood by reading alone in cafe gardens... Which reminds me. I haven't one that today, yet :)) See ya, chubsies.