3:41 PM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
It was the dog that brought things to a head. The last few months I've noticed it. The wife's up at the crack of dawn. I can hear her banging and clanging around downstairs, and I'm thinking, 'Ey up, she'll a have the fry-up ready with all the trimmings'. It's been soggy cornflakes, without fail. Cold, uninspired, monotonous. Drowned in milk, so much milk. All to the tune of Bruno inhaling juicy chunks of premium, pedigree meat in his bowl.
That was just the start. More recently, she has been getting the fry-ups on, sausages and bacon and white pudding and black pudding. Yeah, but only for the dog! I says to her 'Yer not wasting proper food on that bloody thing' and she says, all angry like, 'Well you didn't get the dog food he likes, what do you want him to do, starve?' I was taken aback. And all I could think of all day was 'That dog is fucking picky'.
So yeah, she's been short with me lately. Snapping at me. Of course, so has the dog. Et tu, Bruno? I put it down to her spoiling him, ruining him. She spends hours combing him. It's a bloody boxer, it has short hair, what does it need all that molly-coddling for? Anyway, it's been getting worse and worse, the situation.
Dogs are affectionate animals, you know, I get that. They're always slobbering on people, it's just their way. But she used to... well she used to let it slobber on her... face... she used to purse her lips and... well it don't bear thinking about. From a point of hygiene at the very least. She'd take the doggie talk to an extreme too. I looked up the internet, said it could be that she's feeling unwanted in other areas. Well I'm sorry but after work at the tax office, and three hours at the Civil War Recreationist Society I don't have the time or the energy for any of that other... palaver. Besides, it's been in the bed the last few months, the dog. Not on the bed, actually in the bed. She used to complain about my legs kicking her during the night, but his jerky leg action is all right apparently. Whatever makes you tick, Doris, pardon the expression.
I had to draw the line somewhere, put me foot down. And I was getting a bad back from sleeping on the sofa. Yeah, so I says to her, "Look love, it's either me or the fucking dog. Your choice, twenty years of marriage or a flea-ridden mutt."
Anyway, it's probably for the best, no more allergies for one thing. Feel ten years younger for that reason alone. And it's a chance for a fresh start. Me sister's let me stay at her and her brother-in-law's for a while, so I have a roof over me head, knock on wood. Although they're talking about getting a dog themselves now too, for some reason. And I think they might be thinking about moving house because the brother-in-law's always leaving the classified ads around on the property page. But anyway, I'll worry about that if it ever happens.
I went out for a early-morning drive recently. Now I'll admit I shouldn't have been doing that speed in a 30mph zone. I'm not proud of it. But I know she lets him out about this time of the morning. And I know those sausages I put down would be a track he'd follow to a future under my wheels of fortune. He'd sniff that heaven scent right into doggy hell. The Volvo's a safe ride, traction control, four-wheel ABS, so the damage should've been minimal.
Turns out the damage wasn't minimal. Windscreen put in, and the front end smashed up from that lamp post. Well the last thing I expected to see coming out our back gate holding a fist-full of sausages was the fucking milkman. He loves dogs too, apparently, and shared an enthusiasm with Doris. Not all he shared with her. Been stocking her up with his milk for God knows how long. I was stuck with those soggy cornflakes and all the while wondering why the fridge is always full of it.
So I got off lightly, all things considered. Community service and a fine, points on the licence. The milkman's making a decent recovery. Bruno ran down the road and got a GP to come up and give the man first aid and call an ambulance. The wife's still not talking to me, which is fine. I pled guilty to the charges, of course, even though if I'm honest I'm not really sorry about Doris and the milkman.
I only hope Bruno can forgive me. He's the only one to come out of this whole sorry episode with any credit.
8:50 PM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
Laura,
I gave you an unfair answer to your "what can go wrong with photography?" question. I've been thinking about it while I drove back to the studio. Here are the ones I came up with:
I gave you an unfair answer to your "what can go wrong with photography?" question. I've been thinking about it while I drove back to the studio. Here are the ones I came up with:
- Couples who insist that they have all the photos taken somewhere that is too dark or is just ugly
- Couples who leave only 15 or 20 minutes for all the formals
- Couples who say they want "intimate portraits" but won't cuddle for the camera
- Couples who don't give me any idea of the style they like, provide no shot list and sample clippings
- Couples who don't tell me what is going to happen at the reception -- or say they want cake cutting shots but don't tell me when or where the cake cutting is going to occur and I end up behind all the guests
7:22 AM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
This wedding brought together two very different cultures (Persian and Filipino). The newly married couple blended these two cultures with a wonderful combination of belly dancing and Filipino dancers at their wedding reception that included 350 guests. Everyone had a great time (including me and my assistant!). Here are a few pictures from this wonderful wedding.
11:16 AM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
A large frosty oval contains two different creatures. Machine on one side with sheen and serenity, the Egg struggles unknowing and insane in its melody. Its skin has not hardened, its form undeveloped still.
Machine inches forward and clunks like a metronome. It runs its cold digits across the soft fleshiness. Egg recoils and shivers, still searching for comfort. Blind, deaf and mute - dislodged from its origins.
Squirming and writhing in unborn convulsions, Egg is pulled onwards by invisible forces.
Agitated.
Machine watches with inexhaustible patience.
Egg needs hot fluid, the shroud and the soupiness. Soundscapes of safety. A sweet stinking universe.
Rhythms pulse through them both. Egg jerks around again.
Screaming silence to thunderous cacophony, these transitions are so hard to take.
Agitated, but then... Stillness settles in.
A change in its whirring whims, Machine no longer waits. Machine starts to calculate. Machine starts to cultivate.
Takes Egg into insides. Pistons begin to pump. Patience has new purpose, absorbing through metal tubes.
Machine sits in soundscapes of burning, bright industry.
It stews and stirs, a parent of infamy.
Machine inches forward and clunks like a metronome. It runs its cold digits across the soft fleshiness. Egg recoils and shivers, still searching for comfort. Blind, deaf and mute - dislodged from its origins.
Squirming and writhing in unborn convulsions, Egg is pulled onwards by invisible forces.
Agitated.
Machine watches with inexhaustible patience.
Egg needs hot fluid, the shroud and the soupiness. Soundscapes of safety. A sweet stinking universe.
Rhythms pulse through them both. Egg jerks around again.
Screaming silence to thunderous cacophony, these transitions are so hard to take.
Agitated, but then... Stillness settles in.
A change in its whirring whims, Machine no longer waits. Machine starts to calculate. Machine starts to cultivate.
Takes Egg into insides. Pistons begin to pump. Patience has new purpose, absorbing through metal tubes.
Machine sits in soundscapes of burning, bright industry.
It stews and stirs, a parent of infamy.
3:10 AM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
Ray listens to their conversations. On the bus or at the jobcentre where he works. The tiny circles of subject matter repeated endlessly. These people seem to live vicariously through their offspring, so proud of what they have produced. A colleague describes in minute detail her teenage son's exploits. Isn't it just darling? An objective ear would say she's raised a spoilt and obnoxious little shit. They see things through specs tinted by the bonds of DNA. Ray would remain silent, occasionally nodding, feigning politeness in response while a voice in his head growls 'Why do you think I'm interested? Why don't you hurry up and die?'.
Births, christenings, confirmations, education, jobs, engagements, weddings. Joy! More births, houses, new jobs, promotions, retirements, funerals. More funerals. Did you hear Such-and-Such is dead? He was only sixty, still young. Still young. Saw him last week, fit as a fiddle. Funerals, grandkids, more funerals, death with DNA following only a few years behind. It's circles and cycles, unbreakable, endless, like Ouroboros, consuming itself forever.
To Ray, life and death seem interchangeable. Was there much difference in the two? Past and present didn't exist. They were just traces, illusions. The 'now' existed, so the 'now' is every single moment of consciousness. Now is birth and now is death, but it has to go somewhere so it's birth again. More circles. So death is not the end. Ray couldn't figure out whether that was good or bad. Is there nothing besides endlessly repeating futility? Is there no way out of this?
A child's voice whined. Stop the ride I wanna get off! Stop! Get off! Life is a ride, they say. You're supposed to enjoy it. Enjoy it, damnit! Ray wondered whether the desire to exit was right or wrong? Was it the truth or the lie? Sane or crazy? Which was the reality?
*
Ray sat and smoked Camel and blew smoke rings. They hung in the air for a moment before losing all shape and disappearing. He drank for months and didn't drink for months and then drank again. Circles pulled him back into place like gravity.
Today he would go to his cousin's house. Frankie used to be in the air corps. Liked guns and junk. Ray was going to 'borrow' the Glock 17. It was kept in an Adidas box on top of his cousin's wardrobe. He would go see his old principal, the one who had always like to get 'physical' with 10 year old boys and girls. He would perform an experiment; 'The cathartic effect of homicide on the fundamental void of life'.
*
She was messed up in the head, or else she just had weird taste. It was the only explanation for her apparent interest in him. Kathy, married, no kids, tens years older. What was her deal? She was messed up in the head, and Ray was almost normal when he was with her. Sometimes he tried to count how many different people he was. He guessed that it was not healthy. Weren't people the same no matter what, or did everybody change completely depending on their company? He was good with her, a good guy. That's what she told him. She brought out the best in him, made him feel like a man and not a boy. She had a way. It was natural, for her, to be in total control and make him feel like a man at the same time. She had a way.
*
Ray sat reading a book about the holocaust. A picture of the sign above the death camps, Arbeit Macht Frei, work liberates. Self-disgust became worse when he thought of those who had truly suffered. He found it even more pathetic that his self-disgust grew in such a manner, and his cycle of thinking continued until he wished he was nothing. Not just self-destruction, obliteration, that didn't cut it no more. He wanted not to exist, to be anonymous and invisible. He wanted never to have existed.
No. This attitude made him sick. Self-pity, self-disgust, pathetic maggot. Endless circles, inescapable. Fuck it.
*
His birthday was in July, so he was a cancer. And like a crab, he had crawled sideways his whole life. Never grown, just preserved like a science experiment in a jar. His 'thing' with this woman - that's what it was called, a 'thing' - wouldn't do. He accepted that. It was low, carrying on like that. Sleazy. Another reason for self-disgust, but it hadn't stopped him. He told himself it was her choice. She was the one with the spouse, the one with obligations, and responsibilities. She was messed up, she had a screw loose, she was a boozer. She had pity for him? Possibly. He wanted her to condense him down into a powder, melt him to a liquid and pump him into her veins. He wanted to enter her bloodstream and scream around her bloody heart. It wouldn't do. He didn't ask any questions. He didn't have any right to, being just an excursion from real life for her.
*
The school principal sits slumped on the floor of the office, holding his jaw from where the butt of the gun smashed into it. The collar of his shirt cuts into his jowls and a collection of stray hairs lay flattened on top of his head, cast adrift of their brothers.
"I never... I never did anything!"
"You think I don't remember. You think nobody remembers?"
"I never did anything! I never did anything!"
"Admit it, what you did."
He doesn't admit anything, just repeats his mantra.
The guy's insistent. He's convincing. His expression is incredulous and there is no flicker of recognition of what he did. Ray points the gun at him to whimpers and strange snorts of fear. It makes no sense, and Ray's mind starts to fog. Real or unreal, right or wrong? Memory is unreliable, just traces of existence. "You pathetic piece of shit," he shouts, still pointing the gun at the man, but not sure who he's addressing.
*
As Ray waits at the train station, a man sidles up to him. He's Scottish, with pleading eyes, dead pools of black, and he's grubbing around for 'a few quid tae go home, like'. His bare arm is like a map, with track marks and thick scars like white tatoos. "Goin' home tae kill mahsel', he declares, all matter-of-fact. Ray nods and instantly wonders why going home is necessary, but perhaps he has to settle a few things before he settles himself. Ray gives him a fiver, but this is apparently not enough, as the guy asks for more. A tenner does it, and Ray immediately feels slighted and resentful. Best of luck with that, he thinks acidly. He goes to the front of the train to avoid any further interaction with the Scot.
The train fills up with chattering commuters. They talk about their jobs, and the weather, and then they talk about how their kids are doing. The woman beside Ray speaks about her daughter who is afflicted with some genetic muscular which means limited capabilities. She's done her final exams and is planning on going to college, despite her obvious physical limitations. She wants to be a veterinarian because she loves animals, an interest fostered by a childhood without many friends or normal activities. Pride radiates from this woman. She tries to contain it but she cannot. For one insane moment Ray loses his breath, head reeling. Screws his eyes shut. It passes. There are some worthy people, but I am not one of them, Ray thinks, disembarking.
*
The local news is on the television in the pub. The report is about the man who entered a local school with a gun and balaclava, threatening the principal after school hours. The story had been all the rage around town for the past week. The reporter is blathering about something else now though. "...recent publicity arising from the story has prompted allegations of abuse from one woman... " Several builders come in the door of the pub chortling about something, drowning out the voice, "...are being investigated by police...".
The cricket is put on at the request of a regular, though others are complaining because the football will be on soon and they're not sitting here watching fucking cricket. Ray sits and drinks, and doesn't do much at all. He listens to conversations, waits for closing time and tells himself that he's going to give up the drink again, but knows that it won't be for too long.
10:50 PM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
I would love to invite you to my studio to see my beautiful new wedding album samples. Just give me a call and schedule a time that is convenient for you. I always look forward to meeting new people. I am happy to answer any questions that you have about wedding photography in general and will help you to choose a photographer that will be a good match for you (even if it's not me). What do I offer my couples? Excellent customer service before, during and after your wedding. Prompt return of phone calls and e-mails. I make sure that I capture your wedding day in the style that YOU want. I have lots of experience photographing weddings in all kinds of settings from church ceremonies, beach weddings, backyard weddings and even some really unusual venues. Each wedding is unique and special. I also have a knack for making people feel very comfortable when having their pictures taken. I understand that sometimes there are difficult situations that arise at weddings ( parents that have divorced or remarried and there are awkward or uncomfortable moments). That's why I take the time to discuss these things with my couples before the wedding so that we can have a plan to make sure that everyone feels comfortable and enjoys the day. The last thing that a bride and groom need on their wedding day is to be worried about family dynamics. Leave that to me. I have had plenty of experience with these types of situations and know how to handle them without people ending up with hurt feelings etc. I take a very personal interest in my couples as many of my previous clients will tell you. I also want to express my gratitude to my brides from the knot and for all of your referrals.
3:39 PM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
As a digital wedding photographer I saw this article on the maltaStar.com new site. Honestly, I think the author is underestimating the need for a serious multi-disk backup system and vastly underestimating the storage requirements of a serious professional photographer. Instead of 500-1000 images a day I actually end up shooting between 2,000 and 3,000 images.
Digital dangers
maltaStar.com - Malta
Just to demonstrate my point with an example, wedding photographers today are shooting anything between 500 to sometimes over 1000 images during a single ...
See all stories on this topic
maltaStar.com - Malta
Just to demonstrate my point with an example, wedding photographers today are shooting anything between 500 to sometimes over 1000 images during a single ...
See all stories on this topic
He talks about how a CD and an external hard drive are enough backups. I disagree. I suggest two external hard drives, two sets of DVDs and an online-upload backup for total off-site / off-organization, in case of a fire, major hack, or something else disastrous to other forms of storage.
Also, he fails to talk about using RAID10 or RAID5 on the main working disks, forgets to automate his backups, ect.
Good start though!
11:13 AM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
I am looking to speak with professional photographers interested in shooting as associate (second) or affiliate (primary) wedding photographers, with my Northern California-based Cory Trese Photography studio.
If you are an interested:
If you are an interested:
- Working Associate Wedding Photographer in Sacramento California, Contact Me
- Working Associate Wedding Photographer in San Fransisco California, Contact Me
- Working Associate Wedding Photographer in Northern California, Contact Me
10:53 AM | Diposkan oleh
siiplah
I just need to say it: The Nikon D3 Rules.
Seriously, it shocks me every time I take it out. With the 85mm f/1.4 the camera is simply unstoppable. Even without AF-S, the auto-focus nearly perfect and at f/1.4 the camera's ability to focus in near darkness is incredible.
Even the D2Xs, another stellar auto-focus performer can't keep up. Both camera's low-light auto-focus is greatly improved with the addition of an SB-800 providing auto-focus assistance beams. However, the D3's 51-point 3D tracking mode makes easy work of difficult auto-focus situations ... for example, dancers on a dark dance floor. Not easy to get sharp focus in those situations, but the D3 comes through like a champ!
Seriously, it shocks me every time I take it out. With the 85mm f/1.4 the camera is simply unstoppable. Even without AF-S, the auto-focus nearly perfect and at f/1.4 the camera's ability to focus in near darkness is incredible.
Even the D2Xs, another stellar auto-focus performer can't keep up. Both camera's low-light auto-focus is greatly improved with the addition of an SB-800 providing auto-focus assistance beams. However, the D3's 51-point 3D tracking mode makes easy work of difficult auto-focus situations ... for example, dancers on a dark dance floor. Not easy to get sharp focus in those situations, but the D3 comes through like a champ!
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