Of nesting doubts
I’m not really sure I can sing the blues. I’m not even sure I can honestly say I’ve got the blues, but one thing is certain is that the blues probably has me tightly in it’s melancholy grip. A wicked vice of fate has set to work upon my stomach, and other connected innards, causing me to miss sleep in the deepest night, already lit by the early nordic sun that seems to happen at this time of year.
The intrepid explorer life seems only charming when you have something to run away from, when you want to escape monotony and the repetition of a daily job that drains the soul and that hurts you with wanderlust for things you aren’t seeing while glued to a chair by the force of society and dependency. Truly, I still feel that no fate can be worst than that slow and petty death that I could live every day. But life moves just the same even when you are charmed by far off vistas of mountains approaching, or by a small bar in a strange place that you instantly feel at home in.
What happens when you find an anchor you love dragging, what happens when it keeps you coming back, addicted to touch and smell, and the magic of green eyes glinting lively at you in the sunlight, filled with emotion and joy. Wanderlust turns on you, nagging you in a way that tears apart your gut. Sit still long enough and you feel it more. Be away long enough from the joy of eyes that feel like home and all of a sudden it seems pointless. The far away vistas, and the feeling of adventure you get in your bones when it’s just you and a camera, heading to strange new places, waiting to explore new sights with new people isn’t as fulfilling when it’s taking you farther away from what you love.
But then again, none have the same value without each other. Staying still for the sake of it, just so you don’t go away isn’t deeply fulfilling. Being able to leave without something to look back on feels like inertia without something to always bring you back.
Ignore the deep vice squeezing your stomach until it’s the size of a pea when you leave. Think of it as a way to appreciate when you leave behind, confirming it’s worth and deep value.
Ignore the wanderlust at the back of your mind, the call of the road that seems to create a constant static background to your thoughts, the building anxiety as you sit there enjoying something that far away lands will never be able to compete with.
My first sighting of the northern lights
I stand still. The night feels completely alive around me. The trees sway and the eddies in the leaves rustle softly as they gently gather at my feet. The air is cold in my lungs, it’s past midnight and i can already feel the burn of winter in my lungs. Not long until the first snow will fall, covering everything in white. Soon after there will be darkness but for now the night is bright.
The treetops are silhouetted on the sky. There is no moon, but clear, shining blue-green streaks sway across the sky in a mesmerizing performance. I can’t keep my eyes away from it. This is the first time I see the the merry dancers, the northern lights, the Aurora, named after the roman goddess of dawn. In the cold i feel at peace, this is the best that Sweden has to offer: a deep communion with nature, here you can feel the earth around you.
You feel it’s alive.
Cantece care nu le mai pot asculta
Playlistul cosmarurilor mele, un post despre traume si despre oameni.
- Electric Six – Danger, High Voltage (surprinzator asta, nu?)
- Luna Amara – Rosu Aprins (yup)
- Mihai Margineanu – Visul (damn it’s specificity, damn it to heck)
- Mika – Grace Kelly (because reasons)
- Adele – Someone like you (cel mai stereotip cantec trist ever, what can i say, it pushes my buttons. Am dat intr-o masina cu bicicleta ca nu mai vedeam bine, curse that traitorous shuffle function and not cleaning up in old MP3 players.)
Culmea, ce poti lega de niste cantece. Cateodata ma intreb daca cumva la batranete nu imi voi putea asculta deloc nici un cantec preferat ca vai doamne a traume legate de ele. Poate cu ceva noroc sunt traumele mai variate si incep sa ai cosmaruri cand ascult Creedence Clearwater Revival – Run through the jungle, sau Balada aia western ”Big Iron”. Alea ar fi niste traume interesante care probabil merita povestite, nu niste povesti adanc personale care nu prea ies la iveala.
Lessons of Skyrim
1. The people of Skyrim don’t appreciate you calling their country Skyrim. They pronounce it Sweden, and they call themselves swedish. Act and talk accordingly in public.
2. Moose are more dangerous than dragons and allegedly more delicious. It’s why everyone hunts them.
3. Nothing is spicy in Skyrim unless you are going to buy it from the Redguards or the chinese shops. Those actually know what spicy means.
4. The denizens of ”Sweden” have a drinking problem, so all the booze at ye olde shoppe is actually light beer/cider. All the proper drinks are in a government run store that you have to go to during the day. Nobody judges you buying 3 liter bags of wine, because everyone is doing it.
5. Cars are peaceful animals, for the most part. Don’t let this lull in vehicular violence get you off your guard. It only takes one car to introduce you to the pavement in an insistent fashion.
6. You can camp anywhere in Skyrim for 24h, much like the in-game sleeping. However while you sleep people may try and rob you, people may shoot you because you look like a moose (because of sleepwalking with antlers on, i don’t know your life) or moose my confuse you and thing you are a moose. If this is the wrong time of the year you’ll wish you can forget that night, and there ain’t enough tequila in the world to get that out of your head.
7. The water and the air are great, buth food will always taste strange. Also bread is expensive.
8. The dragons don’t move as much as i expected, they are rather statuesque and they don’t eat too many people.
More soon.
Sweden diary – day 1
Stockholm’s central train station in it’s normal moist environment
I’ve been on the road now for 17 hours now. I’m in Sundsvall, my destination, and i’m writing this from the poor man’s starbucks, Mcdonalds. God bless their free wi-fi and hearts. Because mind you, the train stations don’t relaly have FREE wi-fi, no matter what those filthy signs say. LIES AND DECEIT.
Anyway, it was a long trip, but one i didn’t get bored in because i was to busy keeping my eyes open and trying to find out what the fuck is happening around me. I haven’t shut up this much in years, possibly since the first day of college. It was hard, I’ve never really been alone, so this is an interesting experience. The best description would be my classic phrase. This will be funny… though probably not pleasant.
Being alone is such an alien figure. Though as i am here now, it’s like romania after i’ve had a stroke and can no longer understand what people are saying, cause swedish sounds exactly like gibberish.
Now it’s time to spend a night in a train station, cause i’m mostly too poor for a hostel. I tehnically could afford it, but i’d rather not, really.
On assignment
Riders watch the race while preparing and waiting for their turn at the ITT prologue of the Tour of Sibiu
I’m in a hotel room, one that isn’t as dingy as i usually expect them to be. I’m here with a few other press people, we’re the press for this year’s Tour of Sibiu. It’s only on it’s second edition and already it’s the biggest cycling tour in Romania. The tour of Romania ain’t got nothing on these guys as far as organising goes. The riders are fierce, the bikes are sexy beasts and i’m ready to take pictures of all of it as it happens. More or less. Because i don’t have a press motorcycle and that’s just something i’ll have to deal with. Huzzah!
So far we had a glorious ITT in the brutally cobbled winding medieval city center and the teams presentation, today it’ll be paltinis and on the morrow i’ll be heading towards the beautiful and gorgeous Transfagarasan highway. It’s quite high.
I’m loving every second of this tour. I’ve been waiting to do this for such a long time and it has yet to dissapoint in a big way, so faar the pictures have been sweet as hell. This will be glorious.
Vive la vie Velominati!
Cheile Nerei – The campsite
Beware the insanely high rezolution.
Click on photo for full rezolution
Hey, I’m angry and i’m gonna tell you all about it!
See here, i’ve been working. It’s been a frustrating time, i’ve been here since january. Of course i’ve only started bieng paid since the middle of february, because that’s how things work here. Ideally you get paid nothing, but they have to at least sometimes pay you, so sometimes they do. But it’s always been late as fuck and overtime is of course not included.
Right now the pay is 2 weeks late. I am broke and upset, because next week i have to be on asignment and i may just have to walk several hundred kilometers to get there, what with not bieng able to afford the buss, let alone train or plane. So yay for that. Add to this the fact that lately i’ve been doing lots of overtime (unpaid, of course, god forbit) and the fact that it isn’t even appreciated, merely expected.
Last week my whorehopper told me i don’t work hard enough, this was in the last hour of a 12 hour work day. I dislike it.
I think I am going to quit soon. It shall be glorious.
Bridges
Oasa lake and the a bridge on which the Transalpina road runs
Just thought I’d pop by for a quick word about bridges, I’ll prbably be adding a link to Kit Soden’s interpretation of ”Lay of the Bridgeburners” Over at the end of the post too. It isn’t the first time i mention his album on this blog and realistically it won’t be the last. But i digress…
Do I love bridges! and do I love metaphors! I should make a bridge metaphor. I sort of feel like living on one, metaphorically, as i pointed out, I don’t think I could live on an actual bridge, i’m not good with water. BUt anyway, metaphor, bridge. I feel as though I live on one. Few things are particularly stable in life, though honestly I’m not sure they’ll eber get more stable, and i can’t say it doesn’t suit me. I like the things i can rely on in small doses that generally only refer to people. Soon I’m gonna be moving to Sweden, or as i call it: SKYRIM! (don’t judge me), that particular event has a counter on it and it’s closing in fast, 50 days to go-ish. Ominous much? This brings about both problems and solutions, of course. I more or less hate my job on most days and that’ll be fixed. I can’t say I’m not looking forward to that. Apart from that I’m worried about the people in my life and how my interactions will be affected by my geographical complications. I have faith that many of my interpersonal relationships will manage to survive the distance, especially the amorous ones. Fortune favors the bold, eh?
/panic… in regards to those
Also the lack of cooking i’ve grown acustomed to these last months, and other problems like the lack of a place to rent are worrying me.
Anyone looking for an apartment-mate in Sundsvall by the way? I have no pets, i barely shed and i can be quite clean if i have to. I’m also artsy and i can make people laugh.
Oh, and i barely shed during this time of year.
I can’t say I ain’t enjoying my time on this bridge, I’ve been here since autumn, it’s sort of like a loading screen, but i’ll be damned if it isn’t some of the best fun i’ve ever had. Probably sweter due to it’s imminent end.
BUt as kotor teaches us, Apathy is death.
And that song, that we’re not gonna link right now because it doesn’t fit the mood, is here.
And a proper song for this atmosphere is: THIS!
Of stamps and paper
I’ve noticed a few days ago while passing the mail boxes in the entry to my building that a lot of me is in the post. This is quite a new thing, my usual method of transportation is trains, it’s where i feel most comfortable, really. The smell and the texture of the old CFR seats has many memories attached to it. The idea of having so much in the post, traveling from hand to hand is frightening, it’s a release of control i dislike. There is also a certain thrill attached to this. My future is in the post, traveling to and from Sweden. Portfolios, letters certifying my trustworthyness to the world. Proof of my work, my mind and my very existence is traveling around in small parcels made of dead trees. I put them in a box and wait.
The symbols of my political ideals are also gently traveling in similar, though i hope sturdier parcels. They are late, as reactions and politics often are. It’s expected of them, in a way. You never really realize what you want until you risk losing it all. If you’re lucky you get to have a choice in the matter, or at least an opinion you shout out to anyone who will listen. Politics is a deaf old hag, isn’t she?
Fate was snowed in recently, not even managing to get going well before quitting. I guess it’s part of it’s nature. There are always two sides to a cont and many faces to a die. The only way to beat fate, in my experience is to keep going until one of you is dead. You either win or you lose but at least you know where you stand with that and have no regrets. I believe in re-rolls, and in forcing life to your will. Worked with the post, i have my symbols of fate in my hand. Now give me a roll…
I can’t decide if i want to use the post more or less, for many more things. One thing is certain, I miss the train.
Like a dancer unstrung
Beware of shadows bearing gifts, or so the Malazan Book of the Fallen says, only to prove to us that in the end it’s all shadows and the dust of all we could have been.
Good evening. I thought it time we had a little talk.
Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin…
It has been, in the last few years when i’ve learned and grown enough to appreciate it, a constant pleasure to know that we actually have freedom of speech. People might not listen, and people often do not care. Dissemination and distractions abound, but all in all you’ve been free to say whatever you want on the internet. As a /b/tard i’ve been thankful and appreciative for all of this. I’ve seen things og great glory i otherwise wouldn’t have been able to, and i’ve seen horrible things i wish my mind could erase. Some of them were under the copyright of one brand or another.
I guess you only appreciate these things when you see them going away. Today btjunkie.org closed down for good. They did this willingly, probably to avoid legal action seeing how it is now illegal to run a torrent site in Sweden.
ACTA is happening, i really don’t think it will happen at the first vote. It can’t there will be too much protesting, too much rage, too much trolling of the vote. I really hope it doesn’t pass. The bastards are doing this though, maybe not now, but it will happen. They have too much power for it not to happen. Damnit, this really makes me angry. I’ve always cared about freedom, both mine and the ideal freedom towards which we should strive as a society and lately i’ve been seeing it taken away, piece by piece. Granted, there are many pieces that i give little shits about. The right to have a chicken as a pet for example is something i can live without.
My line comes with ACTA, and my ability to express whatever opinions i may have, even if they include the words ”Sony is shit”. I want my movie reviews to have bits of movies in them, so i can use their flaws as examples, i want many things that will be illegal. I DO NOT want my data searched when i travel around the world. I find this offensive and frankly i’d rather like to avoid sticking USB sticks into strange parts of my body in order to smuggle data around like some sort of Johnny Mnemonic clone. This is all so silly.
I understand why you wouldn’t care, of course. But think about it like this. The CEO of megaupload was arrested, sent to trial and convicted in what i think was less than a month, you can check it out if you like. He was also sentenced to 50 years in a US prison. The US doesn’t have prison terms that long for rape. This is the one time in my life i’ve seen the justice system in a allegedly ”free” country (yeah US, sure you are) take so little time to do anything, and of course it would do so only in order to bend the knee to pressure groups from the big entertainment industry.
This is, or so i like to think, the place where many of my generation draw the line. All the /b/tards, all the 9gagers and all the rest of the internet will probably rage about this like people haven’t raged in the western world in a while. And i shall probably rage with them. There’s an interesting facet to all of this, because this will probably not be peaceful, this won’t be calmly sitting in a diner waiting to be served as you get pummeled with fists.
This is that moment when you feed all the trolls of the planet, and if there’s one thing every one of those trolls have on their computer is the SAS manual for guerilla warfare. So this will be really interesting, because this will not be peacefull, this will probably be more akin to terrorism than anything else. The V masks are coming out, and the DDOS attacks are the first things to pop out, but when people in the polish parliment protest wearing V masks it’s a sort of approval, the meme starts going and you end up with a Stand Alone Complex situation where everyone shall troll what they perceive as symbols of power to a great degree. I am really looking forward to all of this, by the way, I bought a Guy Fawkes mask the other night.
This is really a good time for all the governments to think if they are afraid of waking up the beast that is their populace, because if anything will do it, this will.
I tell you, if shit gets real I’ll really miss the Geneva convention, because i don’t think we’ll be getting those rights anymore at that point.
Introductions
The first thing thought that pops in my mind is that the back of my head is wet. The sounds of a waking city holler in my ears in time with the pain in my brain.Sharp pain stabs me in the eye when i first try to open it, the right side of my brain burns to the back of my head. Oww. Lucky me, the left side of my face is still numb from last night, I’ve never been a good decision maker and i’ve been proven right in that again. Deciding it’s time for the first bar fight of my life after that 5th glass of Austrian Spiced Rum (i’m never drinking that again!) was probably one of the least clever decisions of my life. What the hell was i thinking…. oh, right, chicks dig scars…. Seems legit.
I try to get up, but all i manage to do is get on my side and heave, but in a lazy way. The pavement feels cold against my face for a while longer while i rest a bit and try to get used to the light and the thousand angry goats grazing on my brain. After a minute or so it’s clear that while the goats aren’t seeking greener pastures at least i can now handle the light as the reflection of London’s iron sky is silently judging me from a bit of broken glass propped up on a wall. I try and get up with that gentleness that you only see in hungover people the world over. It’s a feeling of expected pain that’s mostly never as bad as the actual thing. In this case it was, because apparently someone’s been trying to see if they can violently fit their fist in my left eye socket. When i’m comfortably on lean on a wall and check my pockets and my face. My wallet and phone are surprisingly still in the inside pocket of my trenchcoat, right were i left it. My face apears to have gone through some redesign work but heck, all the old things seem to still be where i left them. The London night seems to have been quietly merciful on both those accounts.
I add a token gesture of trying to shake off the recently aquired grime from my white but now filthy shirt, black jeans and dark green tie. I’m not even gonna bother with the trenchcoat that’s been a staple of my style ever since I started reading Raymond Chandler novels a couple of years back. I’m a photographer, you see, and in this business it’s all about the image you offer to people, much like if i were a hooker. In my case i found that what clients appreciate is an asshole in a trench-coat telling them their ideas are shit. Hey, don’t look at me like that, it pays the bills… most of the time.
Something buzzez at my chest, probably my phone, i’d hate to think my heart’s in such a mess at this age that it sounds like some old american cars that are still around. The phone reminds me i have to pick up my new business cards all the way from the other side of town.
After 5 blocks of walking i’ve been stopped and ID checked by Metro twice now. I’m adding one of the old press passes that i keep in my wallet to the lapel of my coat. That usually makes them look the other way. In the tube i get mostly only strange looks and people carefully avoiding eye contact with the creepy guy that looks like a bum. Several awkward stares later i get out and go into the office building where my printers try and churn out gaudy things for their own clients. The doorman luckily recognized me even in this sorry state, he even politely asked if i was alright.
I walk into the printers, the door goes buzz so as to alert everyone in hearing distance about my disheveled self and that i am indeed tracking London mud on their carpets. I’m sure the buzz makes it all better. The lady at the orders desk just gives me that blank stare she uses for me most of the time, it’s both amused and judgemental. I have no idea what it really means.
I clear my throat and ask her if my cards are ready. She silently pushes a full envelope towards me on the desk, never breaking eye contact. I hate it when she does that. I tell her thanks and that she should add it to my tab and quickly scurry away. The door goes buzz as i flee the room.
In the elevator i open the envelope and check one of my cards. The paper is heavy and solid, almost but not quite white with a subtle texture that reminds you of books and old secrets. On one side there’s a faded peacock design in an art nouveau style, on the other my contact details in lovely old-school serifs that are both provocative and educated, the text is more or less what i sent them:
Andrew Taro
photographer, intrepid explorer
andrew@taro.eu
A two wheeled learning experience
- Picture source: Velominati
It’s fairly important that i mention: I only learned how to ride a bike when I was already an adult, so I was pretty late to that party. I had a shitty mountain-bike in high-school, it had a short life, died, and then the rest of it got stolen, such things happen. After that i took a serious and dedicated break to pursue other seemingly important things in life, like getting into college, studying at college and getting on with my photography, developing a personal style and what not. But something still felt off…
At one point i started craving freedom, the ability to go where i please, i noticed something stirring deep in me as i watched road bikes going past me on the street. Something had to be done! and i was pretty certain i knew what: BIANCHI!
Several weeks and 100 euros later i was well on my way to becoming a spandex clad pedaling machine on my brand new old Bianchi Campione del Mondo. This was something i had never felt before. The smoothness of a road bike, how it floats through the streets of the city, how it glides. This was freedom, I was flying! I think that’s the time when i really got hooked, those first few days on my first road bike. I started doing longer and longer rides on my own and eventually made a few friends to go on rides with, i still talk to most of them. It’s amazing how bikes bring people together.I think I’ve only met two people in my life that I dislike while on bike rides. And even that was easy to bear because of the enviroment.
I’ve gone through many bikes since then and am now settled with a alu/carbon Bonetti with Campagnolo bits and Marchisio wheels, but that’s not really relevant. In these two years of pedaling that I’ve done i’ve learned much from this hobby of mine, because i dare not call it a sport though I guess I understand why some people would. For me it’s much more than a pastime, but then again I take all the things I do very seriously indeed. It’s a way of life, much like photography, and from it i’ve managed to extract some important life lessons that i’d like to present to you, in no particular order:
- I’ve learned to enjoy solitude.
- I’ve learned to suffer with a smile.
- I’ve learned I hate headwinds.
- I’ve learned that there are things that can always bring people together.
- I’ve learned who I am, mapped some of the paths of my own mind and i have an inkling of how i work, at least in some respects.
- I’ve learned that motivation is everything.
- I’ve learned that friendship is the best thing you can ever offer anyone, and the best thing you can ever get. (sometimes it’s a metaphor made into a spare tube from a total stranger)
- I’ve learned that i love the rain.
- I’ve learned how to see beauty in the white line on the road.
- I’ve learned that mud is great fun, and so is getting really dirty.
- I’ve learned to have (some) consistency in my efforts.
- I’ve learned where i have to look inside me to pull out that extra bit of power and commitment, and it was a pleasant discovery to find out what exactly is in the middle of my being.
- I’ve learned that losing is irrelevant, all the victory you’ll ever need is knowing you did your best.
- I’ve learned that La Volupte is not just something that happens to other people.
- I’ve learned that La vie Velominati is a beautiful life.
- I’ve learned that sometimes you just have to be belgian about it.
- I’ve learned that if you don’t get going you’re never gonna get where you’re going.
Of determination
This is quite relevant, I think. I’ve long wanted to explain some things i’ve decided in the recent years since i’ve not written on the blog. Much has changed in me and I can’t help but feel I may be on to something here. I had gotten old and jaded for a while there. Dreams weren’t important anymore, there was comfort, there were clients and there was life… more or less.
I’m quite pleased that changed, really. Since then glorious things have happened that I’d never thought I’d get to see, but maybe life is all about surpassing your expectations from time to time. I keep hearing people talk of not believing in ideals anymore, in hope and in dreams. I have no idea how that feels right now, though i guess at times they seemed far away from me.
*shrug*
There is great worth in failing, if one does it in one’s own way. If you follow a dream, if you have a purpose, a quest, if you will. One does not simply walk into Mordor. But one can, and sometimes one does. It’s never anything but a fool’s hope, but that’s the only way to win. And that success comes even with failure. Because you made a point, even if to yourself.
There’s a quote that keeps coming back to me that I’d like to share again, and after that you’ll get the main point of this post:
Dust of dreams, dust of all that we never achieved. Dust of what we might have been and what we cannot help but be. – Stephen Erikson, Dust of dreams
Steadfastness is the indispensable quality of every man who one day does not wish to be obliged to say: “I have wasted my life.”
A man should not incessantly change with every impression of the moment, but should remain steadfast when he has once determined upon what is right. Of what use are the flowers if they do not produce fruits, and of good ideas if they are not transmuted into deeds? We must encourage stability, habituate ourselves to remain constant, and when we are sure that we are right, must fortify ourselves against invasion. Do not let criticisms or attacks disturb you.
Nothing is so difficult as to remain faithful. At each step of the way outside influences are brought to bear upon us to make us deviate or retrograde. And if there were only difficulties from without, it would not matter so much; but there are those from within. Our dispositions vacillate. We promise one thing with the best intentions in the world; but when the time comes to keep it, everything is changed–the circumstances, men, ourselves; and what duty demands of us seems so different from what we had foreseen, that we hesitate. Those who will fulfill on a rainy day a promise which they have made on a sunny one, are few and far between.
And so we go on casting our hearts to the four winds, giving it and taking it back again, breaking with our past, separating ourselves from ourselves, so to speak. And when we look behind, we no longer recognize ourselves. We see ourselves in the days that are past as a stranger, or rather as several strangers.
There is nothing like a steadfast man, one in whom you can have confidence, one who is found at his post, who arrives punctually, and who can be trusted when you rely on him. He is worth his weight in gold. You can take your bearings from him, because he is sure to be where he ought to be, and nowhere else. The majority of individuals, on the contrary, are sure to be anywhere but where they ought to be. You have only to take them into your calculations to be deceived. Some of them are changeable from weakness of character; they cannot resist attacks, insinuations, and, above all, cannot remain faithful to a lost cause. A defeat in their eyes is a demonstration of the fact that their adversary was right and that they were wrong. When they see their side fail, instead of closing up the ranks, they go over to the enemy. These are the men who are always found on the winning side, and not in their hearts would be found the courageous device: Victrix causa diis placuit, sed victa Catoni.
A profound duplicity, a discrepancy between words and deeds, between appearance and reality, a sort of moral dilettantism which makes us according to the hour sincere or hypocritical, brave or cowardly, honest or unscrupulous–this is the disease which consumes us. What moral force can germinate and grow under these conditions? We must again become men who have only one principle, one word, one work, one love; in a word, men with a sense of duty. This is the source of power. And without this there is only the phantom of a man, the unstable sand, and hollow reed which bends beneath every breath. Be faithful; this is the changeless northern star which will guide you through the vicissitudes of life, through doubts and discouragements, and even mistakes.
From Courage, 1894
By Charles Wagner
Via: AOM
it hunts
You get to your subject, get off the tram or out of the car. Bike, whatever.
You check your gear.
You look, you see. What’s going on? What’s this about?
What is the shot i need to take? What is the shot i WANT to take? What is the shot that will happen, the natural one that you don’t force. The one that tells the only truth you have to see?
Can i do all three?
Step close, listen to the crowd. Listen and watch for non-verbal cues. What’s the semiotic language available to me. What are the symbols, what do they mean?
I’ve listened and I’ve learned what i can say and how. I’ve seen the people and I’ve seen their eyes.
I move back.
I shoot the wide shot. The one with the most context, the one that defines what’s going on in clear, easy to understand ways. Street-signs, people, gestures and context tell the story. I have almost everything i need. But what do i want?
I get closer. People start being entities, not crowds. You catch faces, gestures. The big faces first, then the small, then both. After all, the big faces is whwat people care about, why you are there. This is work, no time for fun.
My eyes move over the crowd.
You hold the camera to your chest so people can see it, never hide it. They need to get used to you, to feel comfortable. Don’t blink. More calmly. This is Zen, this is where you’ve learned through hard work to live. It’s what you love, this is what I love.
I hunt, I snap. I try to explain what’s happening, what I think is happening. This is the moment where opinions matter.
I move closer. My subject is lurking somewhere out there. The hunt is on. Keep moving. Things happen, people move, you notice beforehand what’ll go on. You position yourself, you check your settings. You wait for the moment.
Dear facebook, we need to talk
What the hell is wrong with you? This isn’t about me or about the people i know, It’s about you and how judgemental you are of me. Are my friends not good enough?! Is that why you constantly recommend people to me? I don’t think that’s ok. My friends are my choice. I have a limited number of slots for them in my head and that’s how it works. I want you to respect that. Even though I’ve seriously started just accepting aquaintances and people from work that’s not good enough for you.
It’s always ”try friend finder” or ”these people seem nice, let’s friend them” and when i tell you to go frack off you never accept it, you always feel like ou should have the last word. It’s never ” Ok Cyber, I won’t bother you with that again, i understand.” It’s always that fucking ”We’ll talk later about this when you aren’t in a foul mood.” You really gotta start learning to take no for a answer. Is this me being antisocial? No. This is you being a bitch facebook, and if you keep doing this i’m stab you with a lemon.
Our awesome space battle. In SPACE!!!
The arena. Photo by Alex Vancu
”Laser tag is AWESOME!” Is pretty much the summary of this post, in case you don’t really feel like reading the whole thing. If you do however want to read the whole thing i recommend you use a childlike voice filled with glee, because that’s how it sounds in my head it’s how it was intended.
So after a clown touched me in a bad way with his balloon the other day Iulian, one of my party members, suddenly remembered that he had something to show us. A space bar taht has laser tag and is conveniently placed near the center of town, where we were. We go see, because ne needed to waste some time and frankly a place called Space Bar sounds like it could be the place to spend it. Inside we find a great bar with monochrome designs that look like the future. They also have evil egg shaed swivel chairs. *swoon* We are impressed by this but then the guy asks if we wanna see the laser tag court. Yes, yes we damn would. OMG!!!!! It looks like SPACE!!!!!!!!!!!! I had the strangest boner as i went through that maze of neon and dark light where everything looked radioactive. I’ve never in my life been in a real map from Unreal Tournament or AvP. This was it, this was gold. This is our new gaming den. A DM on a evil swivel chair seems like a natural choice.
Today we want back there after some frantic searches to find enough people with enough free time and enough free cash so we can do this. Eventually all my expectations we’re exploded into space when we actually managed to get more than the minimum of players. We were 8 in the end. Me, Jew, Iulian, Alice, Motzi, Milena, her fiancee and her brother.
”So, what are we playing. Team deathmatch or free for all?”
”FREE FOR ALL!!!!!! PURGE THE UNCLEAN!!!!”
And purge it we did. After A quick talk about the rules that went something like this: ” The first rule of space is that there are no rules, the second rule is that you shouldn’t run DOWN that ramp or you’ll die.”
Then we go in and all hell breaks loose. Lasers and D&B music are everywhere. I feel like I’m Commander Shepard or some sort of poor PDF guy killing xeno scum. At first you run, and you frag. This keeps going and eventually you tire. You hear your own breathing and your eyes move quickly through the maze looking for the blinking lights of another player. A enemy. Sometimes you get him, sometimes he gets you but perspiration starts dripping from your nose and soon you also hear your heart along with your laboured breath. What the hell, this is only 20 minutes, how much longer is this going on. You meat your enemy in a convoluted memory of a shootout. Everyone looses many times and you start feeling more and more tired. Adrenaline keeps you going after that. It’s a war, and war never changes. It’s either you or him and you’ll do everything in your power to make sure it’s him.
The best moments of that game were the small moments of friendship. Of a pat on the back when you die, or when you kill someone. It’s a small thing but it means a lot. It’s the moment that separates it from the true hell of war. It’s the camaraderie of battle without it’s pain. It’s pure unadulterated fun.
We’ll be doing this every week now. It’s a great way to make friends and a great way to get to know yours better. In my group we’re all battle brothers. We’re a party of adventurers, it’s how we know each other but laser-tag came to complete taht and take it to new levels.
Oh, and Alice took a gun to the face somehow. Don’t ask me how, I didn’t do it.
Changes
Somewhere out there
I’m sipping from a mug of tea. It’s my favorite, Lapsang Souchong. Nothing has ever come close to the effect it’s aroma and smell have on me. They nourish ideas of comfort and invite detachment from the dark corners of the world to which my mind often wonders. The dark corners are the places my subconscious bids me to travel while my mind pulls me apart from them and proposes I never leave the comfort of my chair. Can uncomfortable armrests ever be the worst of my problems? I don’t think so. A life where uncomfortable armrests are a real issue isn’t exactly a life. Fuck those armrests.
I’m restless these days. It has something to do with recent events in my life. I’ve found passion again. I feel it in my blood. How could something so small have such a wide ranging effect?
It’s been years…
I have returned to my dire need of adventure. The Capa calls to me. So does La Vie Velominatus. And so does art, if you can call what I do art. I have started to because many people have called it that too, and I’ve been informed that it’s OK to name yourself that when it’s common knowledge that art is what you do and people treat it as such. Mind you, clients probably never will. But people, the good, bad and ugly. I had forgotten how the lack of comfort feels. I like it. The chair nags at my brain and i find myself holding a camera just because. The sound of the shutter is as romantic as it always was and I need to explore all the dark places of the world and bring them under the hard, judging light of my flashing judgement. I was never really a journalist. I always care, I always get involved and I always express a point of view. I’ve never really believed in Truth, just in points of view. I guess studying journalism taught me that one.
One day i may have the courage to photograph parts of my own life. My cravings and my needs. My loves and my hates. I’ve always avoided that. I never photograph love, and I rarely photograph friends. What could be harder than to lose those and still have your stills ready to watch and be watched. Memories change. Negatives don’t. They sometimes age with you but that seldom is enough. I fear this may be my biggest failure. Some day the adventure will take me to my front door. But once there what will i do?
There are many times I’ve though I should stop caring. About my subjects, about life, etc. I was sometimes close to thinking that’s what should be done because it prevents pain. Man, those times were stupid. There’s nothing better in this world than caring, even if it’s the stupidest thing you could do (it always is). Everything ends, and it mostly ends horribly but that’s the charm. One must care. Otherwise where’s the adventure?
The Biscuit Barrel 