100k of fun in the sun

2008-04-06T00:11:00.000-07:00

www.photographermattmills.com/blog is my new home on the internet. come by and see.

2008-02-03T23:27:00.001-08:00

I think I'm done blogging. Can't do it anymore. no real reason; there are like 3 people who read this regularly and I talk to all of them pretty often any way. so yeah. later kids.

2008-01-28T00:33:00.000-08:00

I took yesterday off, not because of anything in particular, but because sunday is my day of rest. Unless I've got a good reason, I try to take a day a week off. It's been sundays now for a while.

Saturday was an all right day at work. It felt like friday all day long though. Went home, and Alex was around. Seems like ages ago that he got back, though it's only really been a week or two.

We went out Bishop's Lodge Road, to look at a motorcycle I'd noticed on my ride the other day. It looked like it was in OK shape, missing a gas tank and a few other sundry things, but nothing too big, it seemed like. So we went and knocked on the door of the house next to the vacant lot, and the woman at the door gave us the number of the owner of the lot and the bike. Called him, he wanted 150, which seemed reasonable, so we said yeah sure, we'll take it.

Watched a few movies. Bad News Bears (the new one) sucks. Everything about it is undeveloped, unstated, and not good. The only redeeming feature was the few good jokes, which I won't spoil.

I made a nice big brunch this morning. Eggs and potatoes and sausage, coffee and OJ. MMMM MMMM.

Then today we went back to look at the bike again. We noticed it was also missing a carburetor and the exhaust was rusted through on the bottom. And the oil tank was gone, and the switches on the bars were busted, and on and on. So, we're probably not going to get the bike after all. 150 is too much; we'd end up putting 500 in parts on it. It's not even worth stealing, we decided.

So we came back, watched a couple more movies; I made pasta. That's about it.

2008-01-26T03:34:00.000-08:00

So, today started out like any other day... without running water. You think it gets old hearing about it, you should try living it for six days. Never mind what happens to people in places where water is a scarce commodity, and plumbing is a luxury.

I forgot to brush my teeth this morning, but I did take a bar of soap to work so I could clean up in the bathroom there. I only slept about three hours last night, and it seemed like a good idea. It turned out fine.

As I was pulling into the parking lot at work (we park in a city lot; we have a pass and everything), my phone beeped at me. It was a text from Jessica, asking how I was and saying she'd like to be friends again. I said I would too. After all, I need all the friends I can get. Even though she's a little crazy. We all are.

Had to be at work early, to get trained on the USPS web site. it's really not a bad site, and I could have easily figured it out. So that was the first hour of the day, and then I was doing other little things around the gallery, I don't remember what all. Jen is with a client, and she asks me to go and get a painting (a glycee, more precisely, which is a fancy name for an inkjet). So I went and got it, and held it up for the client, and it had some damage on the edge, not the surface of the painting, but on the edge where the stretcher bars made corners. Specifically, the black was flaking off.

My job title is "Art Handler/Gallery Assistant." I handle 90% of the paintings that come in, and almost all of the ones on the walls, even those that have been there longer than I have, I've re-hung or re-shot. I know/have learned how to handle paintings pretty well, and haven't damaged any so far. I have dinged a few frames, I'll admit. But the damage on that painting was from being on flimsy stretcher bars, not mishandling. The whole thing flexed from changing humidity, causing the black to come off where the stretchers joined.

So, after the client is gone (I don't think they even saw the damage), Jen calls me over to show me the damage, and blames me for it, and then tells me about some damage to another painting that she'd noticed. The other painting had come in on one of my days off, and it had sat on the floor (it's also exposed canvas, what they call gallery edges, no frame). The day I got back, I asked Judy what to do with it, she said wrap it and store it, so I did. We wrap our paintings in bubble wrap when they go into storage. The damage was on the bottom two corners, and it was dirty; basically, it was damaged from sitting on the floor for two days while I wasn't there. And this is my fault.

To say I was pissed would be a bit of an understatement. I went to the back and just stood there for a few minutes, calming down. There's nothing I can do. If I get mad and tell her off, I'm fired, which is bad. If I try and reasonably tell her it's not my fault, then she just tells me I'm making excuses, and I get a black mark.

So, I calm down, go home for lunch, and chill with Alex for half an hour. I tell him what's up, and that I'm thinking of blowing town to go east (to philly, I'm pretty sure) a lot sooner than I'd planned. Like, now.

He says, "Wait a few weeks, and then we can both go."

Fuckin' A. So, I'm gonna go east.

Went back to work, finished out the day, came home, and the water was on. So, all is right with the world.

long time no post....

2008-01-25T00:42:00.000-08:00

A lot has been going on, too. Still haven't heard about the freelance work. Hanging in limbo about that, but a ton of other stuff has happened.

Andrew and I aren't really hanging out any more... he was getting a little to close. I'm not looking for that kind of relationship with a dude, or anyone, really. So yeah. Made him some prints, though, so hopefully we'll still be friends.

My house has been without water since last sunday, going on 6 days. if it's not fixed at the end of tomorrow, I don't know what I'm going to do. I've had one shower in that time; I've kept the BO down with washcloths and deodorant.

I'm 1000 words into what I hope will be my first novel... it's based on the idea of a guy not unlike myself, who has had all these near death experiences, meets a woman, falls in love. Don't know what will happen to him after that, though I do know he gets shot. Not by who or where. Or if he survives. Or if he deserves to. It's time to just write the story; one sentence at a time.

The other day, I took it into my head to go on a bike ride. I found the most amazing stretch of downhill ever. Straight, flat, no cars in the middle of the day, and almost a mile long. The uphill to get there is kind of a drag, especially since I had to climb it twice (once with a half flat tire and once after I went down into town again to inflate it). But the downhill portion was worth it. My rear wheel is a little out of true, and I was going fast enough that it was making me fishtail a little, so I braked a bit, held back, and it smoothed out. I think 40 is my top speed on that bike.

So, I get down the hill and get into Tesuque, this little village/tourist trap, which marks the halfway point for this ride. It's a nice little town, gentrified out the ass, though. Tourists and expensive homes. The road back, Bishops' Lodge road, has some nice twists and turns, with interesting things around most of the bends; horse ranches, communes, the Shidoni Sculpture gardens. It's a closed-in intimate road. Nice in a car, nicer on a bike, with all the little rolling hills, climb up, sprint down, over and over again.

Then I hit the hill. The climb back up to get back into town nearly beat me. I did it, just barely. The last hundred yards before the crest of that hill were the hardest I've ever done on a bike. Then, from there, it's a nice coast all the way back into town. A nice long downhill again, as a reward for getting to the top.

Then, with the serendipitous timing that seems to define my life, my friend Nicolle called me and said I could come over and use her washer/dryer/shower. So I did. I borrowed a book, "Running With Scissors," which is pretty good so far. I might actually review the thing here when I finish reading it. Then again it's from 2002.

Alex and I had trashy action movie Tuesday; Both Transporter movies (the first one was decent and the second one was ridiculous) and "Lucky Number Slevin," which I'd seen but was still good and funny the second time. Bishop the husky is around, too, and cool as a cucumber unless you leave him alone.

Yesterday, we went off-roding. Well, actually, there was a road, but it was covered in ice and snow; it was a forest access road out past Canyada (spelled wrong, I know, but that's how you say it). The moon was really really bright. I was hand holding and making pictures. That's how bright.

Then today I went to work after three hours' sleep. I was actually all right; did my work, did it pretty decently. Came home, still no water. The city guy came by today, turned it on for maybe half an hour, but there's a burst pipe in the other side that needs to be fixed before they can turn it back on for good.

Then I went to best buy with alex, we looked at an ipod touch. Really cool little gadget. I kinda want one, but can't deal with the sticker shock. I'm eating pasta and PB&J, you know? So yeah, while we were there, we looked at the blog on the ipod and alex was like dude, you're way behind. And I was like, I know, I know. So now I'm posting. Photos to follow soon; check back in an hour and there'll be photos in this post. (edit: got the photos up! yay for me!)

The nine times I've nearly died, Pt. 2

2008-01-19T14:17:00.000-08:00

The ocean obviously had it in for me. I should have known this. Maybe I did. After nearly drowning as a toddler, I never showered. I took baths in very shallow water. It wasn't until I was almost 9 that I really learned to swim.

Anyway, this story has nothing to do with my former fears. This was much later. I was just finished with my junior year in college. One of my professors (who will remain nameless, because he knows who he is) invited me to be a part of a pilot program to do field work in the Yucatan. And, me being me, I jumped at the chance.

I planned to fly down a week early, to get a feel for the country and just have a chance to acclimate. And as it turned out, my girlfriend at the time came with me for that week. I have some very fond memories of her in a hammock on the most perfect white sand beach in the world, except for the mosquitoes, which were only a problem at sunset.

Anyway, after I put her safely back on a plane and the rest of the crew got in, we all met up in the city of Merida, had a day or two there, then headed back for that same white sand beach, the island of Holbox.

So, we're there for several days, trying to sort out details. We were working with this NGO that was studying sea turtle nesting, whale sharks, and habitat. Finally we arrange get over to the turtle nesting beach that the group we were working with was monitoring. We leave at midnight, because of the tides and the way female sea turtles lay eggs, it's the optimal time to go. So, it's dark and late ad I've been sleeping on the floor of this one room apartment with three other college students. We're tired, but careful to pack all of our gear in plastic bags for the boat ride to the actual nesting beach. Then, everything comes out, we all put on 100% DEET bug repellent, and get started moving down the beach on these two ATVs.

The night went really well; I think we saw and photographed 6 turtles nesting, which the volunteers said was a lot; it seemed like a lot. We got to the end of the nesting beach, and turned around to head back. There were no stops on the way back, and the two drivers, Collee students like us, macho to the core, started racing each other. Now, there are three people on each ATV, and they're supposed to carry 2, max. Ind I glance over our driver's shoulder and see the speedometer: 50 MPH.

We were out in front by probably 100 yards. A minute or so after I saw our speed, out of nowhere, there was this little tidal pool, maybe 6 inches deep, but with a steep drop into it. As I saw it, I thought 'oh shit I'm fucked,' and then it was happening. I had been hanging off the side of the ATV, sitting on the rear luggage rack. The machine went over onto me, sliding as we went. It landed on my left hip, and my right hip landed on my cameras, in the water. In the salt water.

The second ATV caught up with us within a few seconds; luckily they'd seen us go over and had slowed in time to stop. They lifted the machine off of me; I got up, wrung my shirt out, dumped the water out of my camera bag, and bummed a cigarette. My first in a while. I was pretty shaken up, you understand. Cameras were ruined, but I was fine, apart from a bruise where I landed on my cameras and the ATV landed on me.

My Name Is...

2008-01-18T01:08:00.000-08:00

So, I have this habit of saying "_______ is my middle name!" when someone admonishes me to be something, or says that something I'm going to go and do is x. My real middle name, for those in the wings, is Arthur. Lately, I've been thinking it must be "lucky" because, like most people with that moniker, I haven't been. But hey, let's not dwell on the bad luck/bad judgements/bad shit that's happened in the last 48 hours. Despite all of that, there is a good news list.

Alex is back in town. That's definitely on the good news list. This morning, right as I was about to leave, he got to the house with Bishop, his dog, and asked me if I wanted breakfast. He made me an egg sandwich. It was nice, you know? Delicious, too.

Also on the good news list, I didn't really lose the memory card that disappeared last night. Andrew found it in his driveway today. Lucky me. What else? Ummm... still haven't heard about freelance work for the New Mexican. We'll see.

what else? no idea how I'm going to make bills. no money to go out, so no real social life. oh well shit happens. I'll figure out something, I always do. That's all for now. I know, weak sauce blog post. I'll do something more later.

2008-01-13T15:46:00.000-08:00

So, the text editor finished downloading, and here I am, typing a blog post in a buffer. We'll see if if continues to work of if it dies like a bitch.

Like I said, yesterday was boring at work. It's a little weird to be in there on a Saturday and not have anyone through. I spent all day goofing off on the internet. And my boss is aware of this, so I'm not afraid of her "finding out" because she's aware there was nothing for me to do. I helped her daughter with photoshop some, and if she brings up the fact that I didn't do much for the gallery, I'll bring up the cost of photoshop lessons. $50 for half an hour isn't unheard of. But yeah, accomplished next to nothing, then went home to chill for a minute.

Called Andrew, he was at home just back from skiing. He asked me if I wanted to go to dinner with him; Chef Rob was cooking roast beef, and I was welcome if I wanted. Now, how in the hell am I gonna turn down dinner from a guy named Chef Rob?

So, after a slight detour, I got to Andrew's house, picked him up, and went over to chef rob's house. I got to meet his wife Sasha and their boy. By the time we got there, the roast was almost ready; the kid (don't remember his name) was playing Wii with his mom. Shortly thereafter, Jack, their neighbor, and his wife (sig. o?) Shayna came over too.

And then came the Meal. Man, that was one delicious meal. The picture is of a stuffed pepper, which he made for Shayna, who's vegetarian. Rice with fresh basil, onion and a little red pepper, salt and pepper, mixed with a little tomato sauce, stuffed into a green pepper and topped with parmesan and a tomato and red wine vinegar reduction. And for the meat eaters, there was a roast, pan seared and then roasted in it's own juices with potatoes and carrots and peppers and onion. So yeah, that was really really good.

Then we hung out for a little bit, played Wii bowling, and put the kid to bed. Then, everyone but Rob went to the Santa Fe Brewing Co for a show. The fact that myself and Andrew are broke didn't matter. We wanted to go out and so we did.

At the brewing company there was a sign on the door, "Sold Out." But where there's a Mills there's a way, so we just walked in and the doorman was someone we all knew from cowgirl, and he just waved us in. The magic of knowing people.

It was mad crouded though. Hella people. And it seemed like I knew about half of them, somehow. Even though I still fell like I hardly know anyone in this town any more. Zach was there, and so was Peter Ellzey. And Who else should be standing at the back when I walk in but Heather. And I try to play it all cool. Maybe I did. We did dance, and I made a bunch of photos. It was a nice dance, but I'm kinda clumsy, not much natural rythm. Oh well. On the plus side, I did get to dance with a pretty lady.

The music was good; mostly country, but with some rock-lyric sensibilities in their original tunes and a nice sound overall. The croud was into it and that helps too. And for a lot of the evening, I was running around taking pictures. My feeling right now is that things aren't going to work out in any way other than a friendly one with heather, and that's cool, actually. I can live with that.

Then the show was over and the original party went back to Sasha's place for a little bit, and then I dropped Andrew off at a party and went home. I was exhausted and feeling sick, and didn't want to hang any more, really. So then I went home. I've been loafing and wasting time today; MF is back, though. That's about all. Later tonight: Installment 2 of Times I've nearly Ate the dirt Sandwich.

(PS- aquamacs going for 3 hours plus and no hang. YAY!)

2008-01-13T12:02:00.001-08:00

so, while I've got some shit downloading over my obscenely slow connection, it's time to blog. cell phone internet is great for staying connected, but shitty for speed. and the thing I'm downloading is an update for my text editor, so all I can do really is wait. aquamacs rocks my word (way better than anything else I've used, and I tried a bunch of 'em).

Anyway, since I posted last, quite a lot has happened. That was friday morning, this is sunday morning. So, after I finished typing friday morning, I had breakfast with Rob and Andrew, bacon and eggs and biscuits done the way my mom does. Half a stick of butter in a glass/ceramic pan, then heat up the pan with the oven; the butter melts. Take the pan out, coat the biscuits in the melted butter, cook in the pan (still with the remaining butter in the bottom) until golden brown on top. To remove from the pan, flip them out onto a plate, they have to come out fast. It's the only way to cook biscuits. Everyone agreed, even though the pan wasn't quite hot enough and the bottoms weren't really brown enough.

Then I went to work. Fridays are a half day, and it was so slow. I was mad surly and spacey, from a combination of hangover and dealing with Andrew. It's his mourning, and it's a million times harder for him, but it isn't easy to be a shoulder to cry on sometimes. If I ever meet god I'm gonna punch him/her in the face. Death sucks, especially for the people who are still around afterward.

So that night, trying to be a good friend, I called Andrew and we went out to the cowgirl. He got the message right before we went that his sister had just been cremated. The man just couldn't holding his shit together, and who can blame him? Sobbing into his beer. And we got out of there pretty quickly, went back to his place. He cried for a while, at least an hour, maybe several. I lost track of time. Suddenly it was three a.m., and he was calming down, and I needed to go and sleep in my bed. After all that emotion, I needed to chill alone to process. So, I went home. Sleep, then the most boring day of work ever. Up next: Last night and the best meal I've had in a month.

got the pix

2008-01-11T14:52:00.000-08:00

Got the pitures from last night off the card finally, and edited them and whatnot. Here you go.

2008-01-11T12:27:00.000-08:00

So yesterday started out like most of my days lately; I had set my alarm clock to PM instead of AM and the sun woke me up an hour late. I'm wondering if some/all of my sleeping problems stem from the sun being all weird and southerly lately, it being winter. I can't discount the possibility. But I woke up and yelled at myself, anyway.

Got to work an hour late, too. this is one of the reasons I really like that job; I can show up an hour late and not be fired. And I get to do enjoyable things: work with my hands, do a little photography, talk to people. But yesterday was slow as shit. Jen (my boss) and I were painfully bored all day. I did what needed to be done in about the first hour, and from there on in it was siting at my desk killing time on the internet. Which would be easier if I were an internet game kind of guy, but I like to read blogs. So I did, which can only be done productively for so long.

Eventually, even the most boring days come to an end, and then it was home for a minute. Alex had found the blog yesterday, of all the ironic timings. so I spent a while chopping up ice in my driveway with the sharp end of a hammer. Still didn't find the damn keys.

Then I messaged Andrew, who had been down in the hospital to see his sister last I 'd heard. I get a call back about 20 minutes later: "My sister's dead," he said. "She didn't make it." So I told him, anything I can do, let me know. I went to the school to look for the keys again, but the ice was stilll there, still thick, and I didn't feel like explaining myself to security. So I went home and had some food, and about half an hour after I'm done Andrew calls me back, says I should come over to Rob and Jason's place. So I do, and I bring my bottles of liquor.

When I first got to the house, he was holding his shit together really well. Like, so well I couldn't really believe it myself. Rob had music going, and Andrew just needed someone around, which I was more than happy to do for him. His sister was 34, she was a biker girl, full sleeve tattoos, and she died of viral meningitis. Her brain swelled and died and they took her off life support. Lemme say it here and now: If I'm brain dead, pull the plug, I'll see you in the next life. I didn't say that to him, that'd be a little callous I think, and he needed someone to not be callous but to comfort, of course.

And luckily for me Rob was here too, because all that grief is a lot for even two guys to deal with; Rob lost his father-in-law under similar circumstances, and was really good talking to Andrew, talking him through a lot of what he was going through. There were moments where we were up dancing, and there were moments that we were on the couch, holding Andrew crying for his sister. We had MTV on the TV with the sound off, and house music over the stereo. It seemed a good way to mourn; with dancing and drinking and good memories. Andrew did his share of crying, I did my share of hand holding and hugging and that was the evening, until about three AM. Rob cooked some food (fried chicken and grits).

In and among this, in no particular order, there were some things I learned about Rob. He's flamingly gay, first of all. I knew this; I met him with his 15-year partner about a week ago. But he's also a traditional Republican. I thought those two things exploded when they collided. Learn something new every day. He's nuanced about it, though; he doesn't necessarily follow the party line, which is good. I can respect that, even though I still think it's dumb to trash talk social programs.

On the plus side, he seemed impressed that I was taking pictures, and we talked about that for a little bit. He said that I should get him some samples, that they desperately need someone like me at the paper. I was really happy to hear that. They need a photographer who will listen to the writers, and conspire a little to make good pictures that go with the text. So a guy like me would be perfect. Pictures that go with text. Right.

Other than all that the night is a blur of Andrew crying, dancing, lessons in music history, and talking about whatever came up. I'm writing this on Rob's couch, it's the next morning, and I need to get some food in me soon, and get the photos off the card and edited. That's all.

the nine times I've nearly died, pt. 1

2008-01-10T10:58:00.000-08:00

So, in a short 23 years, I've had nine brushes with death. Times where, if things had been different by a millimeter or an ounce or a second or two, I'd be writing this in another life.

The first I was too young to remember, but I was afraid of the water for many years; until I learned to swim, in fact. I was one and a half or two; my first memories are six months or a year after this happened.

I was born in south eastern Georgia, the state, not the country. Little two bedroom trailer outside a little town called Sardis. And one day the young happy family goes to the beach, Mom and Dad and my brother Jason. I wasn't there, but this is how it is in my mind's eye. The happy family goes in their happy pickup truck, me and my brother in the back seat strapped into child seats, safe as we could be. (I remember that pickup from what must have been later in the year; I remember cold, and looking out at the bright moon, so close. I looked at a moon shaped tear in the fabric of the seat, very small, but I could touch it and thought that that must be what the moon was like, they were the same).

So, the happy family is playing on the beach, and Dad's out in the surf with me, and mom and Jason are I don't know where. Dad's a strong swimmer (was then anyway, I don't know about now, 21 years later), used to be a lifeguard. And he's waist high, maybe a little more, and throwing me up in the air and catching me. This isn't really a safe activity, I know, but I'm sure I loved it. I was flying there for a second, and what's better than that?

I'm willing to bet he was focused all on me, not watching the waves because he wasn't worried about the waves, he's a big strong man, weightlifter, welder, heavy construction his whole life. A big wave comes in and knocks him down while I'm in the air, inches out of his grip. I've seen people play with kids like this; the kid never goes too high. So he come up and I'm sure a little panicked, runs me into shore. I'm not breathing at this point, just to be clear. In the middle of drowning. He does the right thing though, probably held me upside down so the water would fall out of my lungs, and then did CPR and I came back.

Come to think of it the ocean doesn't like me. Next time, on Pt. 2, how the ocean almost killed me in the Yucatan. It's not chronological, but hey, it's my story, I'll tell it how I want to.

2008-01-10T00:03:00.000-08:00

So, today was a pretty boring day, after yesterday's excitement. I realized late last night that I have lost Alex's truck keys, and have to find them. I've torn the house and my car apart, two or three times now, with no luck. I think I might hit the car one more time though. I have a feeling.

So this morning I went to campus to look there, and the ground that they might've been on was covered in snow. So no luck, and nobody had turned in a set of keys anywhere I went. While I was there, I got a text from Heather, she'd sent me one last night and then realized she'd sent it to the wrong person today. So we arranged to meet at the restaurant, and she'd bring my bottles and I'd bring the scarf, and we'd switch and everything would be cool. And that's basically what happened.

I hung out at my place for a while, went to the store, got some things, came home, and then went out at about 8:30. Got to the restaurant, had a guinness, some soup, another guinness, took about an hour and a half over all that.

There was this couple sitting next to me, dude looked like Stephen King a little, and the woman, I have no idea who she looked like other than herself. They were from Nevada, in for the holidays, and having a fabulous time. So I chatted with them, all the wile a little edgy because Heather was around, the camera was in the car, (at that point, anyway) and, well, I just was.

Then there was this moment, I looked over at the end of the bar where she was getting drinks, and she winked at me, and with heretofore unknown feats of timing and skill, I caught her wink and winked right back at the right instant. And then I was cool. No more edge. It's the little things in life that make it worth the struggle, you know?

Then I went outside and had half of my last cigarette, ever. I enjoyed that fucker. I went back in and some chicken strips came, and having ordered soup I was confused. But, good service gets way better when it's a friend doing it, and they not only brought me my soup, they comped it as well. Of course, it was a $5 cup, and I was drinking $5 pints, so it makes sense for them to keep me happy. I like to think it was a friendly gesture though.

And all too soon, the end of the night came, and I closed out my tab. People were clearing out, and I went and finished that last cigarette. I've never smoked one so fine as that one. I think because it really was the last. And right now I want one. It's that little itch at the back of my mind I can't scratch. I've had worse, though and beaten them. I might have to get some cigars, though. Or a box of those cigarillos I like. No more Cigarettes.

The people inside were hanging out a little, talking, and so I did for a minute, too. Heather and the girl behind the bar (Michelle?) were wiping things down, and I put my coat on to leave. Heather stops what she's doing and comes over to give me a hug. Like I said, it's the little things. I offered her a ride, she said she had that covered. And that's about it. We didn't get a chance to talk at all really, which was a little disappointing. At the end of the night, though, I'd had a decent time, talked to some strangers, made a new acquaintance, and generally done all right.

(By the way, what I was saying below about learning about mutual finds and such, well, I started in on a prospectus for ING funds, where I already have a bank account. It's 150 pages long. I think I'll start looking for an accountant as soon as I can manage to have some money in the bank.)

financial literacy?

2008-01-09T23:05:00.001-08:00

Ok, so this is something I though everyone knew, but the way to not be broke all the time is two-fold: A) Have enough income, and B)Budget, save, and invest.

Having enough income is a doozy. Some people just don't, and, well sucks to be you. Learn about french wines at the library, and get a job waiting tables in a restaurant that sells 800 dollar bottles of wine. Or something similar. There are all kinds of areas that require special knowledge, and lots of knowledge is available for free at the library. The other option is to college, learn something you'd like to do, and start doing it. That's what I'm trying to do.

Once you have that income, or even before, it's a good idea to draw up a budget. This is how my monthly money should go:

-800 Loan Payments
-600 Rent
-200 Groceries
-100 Gasoline
-300 Camera Bills (I have an account at the local camera store)
-200 Savings
-300 Incidental expenses

The camera bill will go away soon; I only owe them about 1800 bucks, and I'll pay off about half of that if I get the contract for web design at my current job. That 300 in incidentals isn't a lot; it's easy to go through it what with bar tabs and whatnot. That totals to about 2500 dollars a month. This is a significant ammount of money; I actually make around 1400 right now. I'm adding some things, trying to bring my income up to what I'd like it to be. Freelance work. If it'll work out. But the point is I have this budget, and if I ever get out of being paycheck to paycheck (soon), I have a plan.

The other part is the investment. Google is your friend, and you can find out a lot about how to make money once you have money that way. Mutual Funds, money market accounts, these all start at around $1000 bucks. A good fund can get you 10% in good market times, which is 100 bucks a year (maybe more, depends on the year) for just having that money sitting around. And if it really is a good diversified fund, then you won't be losing money that often. So I can save money and earn more back than I'm paying out in interest on my student loans, in theory. In practice, I'm actually years away from that, just because of the difference in principle, but saving and investing wisely will make that time much shorter.

With all that said, I have a new goal: to be completely debt free in five years (I would love to say two years, but that's a little unrealistic). The repayment period on all my loans is ten, but I figure if I start overpaying now, saving and investing, I can pay them off by then. I'll be 28. I think when that happens I'm going to take that 28th year and go around the world. If I haven't been doing that already. Then maybe I'll think about grad school.

And maybe I'll have some photos later. Tell about my exciting night at the bar. Or not.

lots of shit going on, little time to post...

2008-01-08T14:24:00.000-08:00

so in all of the madness that has suddenly become my life since 2008 kicked off, it's getting hard to have time to post here. Well, if I could write worth a shit when drunk, I could probably post more, but no luck in that front. oh well. I'm going to keep doing it, and see what happens. 2008 posts in 2008? no way. but 2008 photos for your ass? you bet. All three of you out there reading this.

So, yesterday was a pretty good day. I woke up an hour late, showered, got ready to go to work, and called in to tell them I was on my way. Judy told me not to worry, that things were dead and with the roads, just come in the afternoon. so I promptly went back to sleep.

I woke up at noon and about three seconds later Heather made my phone beep. Texting back and forth for a little bit. She was in Abq, down for shopping and seeing people and whatnot.

So I was at work then for a bit, doing web work, trying to make everything look good for the web site. I'm in competition for the web site bid where I work; it'd mean 2000 bucks in my pocket if I got it. I could pay off my camera bill at camera center. I could pay the deposit on my house. All kinds of stuff. I might even pick up one of those Nokia n810 gadgets I've been eyeing. I've got a little more work ahead of me though before I'm done.

So, I got off work and bought some groceries. I had to ask for an advance to do that, but it's ok, I haven't missed that much work this time, so I should be fine. Then I went to the liquor store, picked up a few bottles of interesting things... some vodka (called spudka, a potato vodka) and a bottle of vino as well.

During all of this, I'm texting back and fourth with Heather, trying to either get her to come over or to have me over, I don't care which. My house is, for once, fairly clean. Partly because the first thing I did when I got home was to scrub the bathroom and pick up in my room, but that's beside the point. So she's waffling and I make her laugh and then she calls me (an actual voice call) and I convince her to change out of her PJ's and have me over for a little bit, after three hours of texting, that is.

So I drive over to her place. I don't know exactly how slick the roads were, but I swear I saw some kids ice skating. Slo-mo rally car driving. I made it fine, my car's a champ on slick roads. so, we cracked the vodka, and I had some, and she was already drinking tea, so had none.

Here's the cool part: we sat and talked for like 3 hours. She has almost the identical insomnia I have. She moved a lot as a kid, too, more than I did, actually. I said some things about photography, she told me about her bakery business plan. She wants to learn to play chess, and I volunteered to teach her. I'll have to find my pieces. We told a few stories, and I think I held up my end of the conversation well, despite the fact that I was drinking like a fish. There's another thing: I was completely comfortable drinking around her; no worries about anything I might do or say, or anything that might happen.

Heather used to take pictures, too. She had a bunch on the fridge, black and white 5x7 prints. So I asked about them, and she told me, and then I brought out my camera and she didn't want her picture taken. She asked nicely, though, which never happens. People are always mean about it, it seems. I respected that, and so put the camera away.

All good things must come to an end, and last night was no exception. At around 2:30 she was getting really tired, and just really needed to sleep. I was about to sit around, try to sober up, when I realized that I really could just walk home and come back for my car today. Which worked out pretty well.

I slept sort of threadily, though. Thin sleep. Woke up at 5am and had two glasses of water. I'm tired right now. But that's more what the day had to throw at me, really, than the sleep I got.

I woke up finally at about noon thirty. Finally meaning I'd woken up several times before, but actually got up then. Once again, heather with the perfect timing, texted me and said I should hurry to move my car. Seems the businesses she lives behind weren't too happy that I'd parked there. So I got my ass in gear and rode down on my bike. Slick spots and road tires make life interesting, by the way.

Then I went to pay my bill at camera center, said hey to grace, then went and got lunch at whole foods. Pizza and a roll and a big bottle of lemonade. And who should I see when I walk out but my wandering friend- walking by the store (I'm a terrible person and I've forgotten his name. I think it's something like Kafir).

So we hung out for a little, drove around a bit. He had a blue line around his lips, don't know what that's about. Could be from the cold. He had me listen to this great new band from here in town, then loaned me another disk of some hip hop.

I dropped him off on the plaza, then headed to the bike shop to shoot their interiors again. Dave told me that they wanted to wait and get with their designer, so I should just wait. So, I got a cup of coffee and then came home. Chilled. Blogged. Ate. Now I'm thinking a nap is in order.

back in the game again...

2008-01-06T13:09:00.000-08:00

So, the last few days were kind of boring until last night, just work and home and work. Judy seems to be in a better mood the last few days, which is nice. Kristin, my cohort at work, did my astrological chart. No idea what it means, but she says I'm a very old soul. New Cycle, yadda yadda. Trick is, I don't believe in determinism, much less that the movements of the stars can predict what will happen, or determine who I am. I know enough cosmology and astrophysics to know that Astrology has as little to do with the stars as China has with democracy.

The I Ching, on the other hand, is really interesting to me. It's firmly based in the principles of Taoism, and really is a book of random good advice, not so much divination as counseling. I also like the idea of introducing random elements into a system for predicting and assessing situations. It seems I've learned to read it as I've learned my own nature.

Enough hocus-pocus. None of it runs our lives, we do, and thank the gods for that. Whichever gods. I'd like to thank, right here and now, the god that created pretty ladies. Because he's sent one hell of one my way, in the way of Heather. I'll get to that in a minute...

But first, the rest of yesterday: While we were re-hanging a wall, I was juggling a hammer, nails and a painting (maybe 1000 bucks of painting) and, yep, you guessed it, the painting slipped out of my hands. Then, by some kind of miracle, I stuck out my left foot, and caught the painting on my toe. Do you have any idea how improbable that is, how lucky my dumb ass is? After that, finished the wall without incident, and went home.

I called Andrew and then headed over to his place (doubling back for my camera). Had a beer, hung out watching reality TV. I'm really glad sometimes that I don't have a TV, because as bad as it was, I couldn't top watching. There's so much going on in the world, and last night for half an hour I watched Celebrity Apprentice.

Then we both went to the Railyard restaurant for some food. Andrew works there, so we both kind of figured on a good discount. Heather was behind the bar for a hot second, we talked for about half a second, but long enough for me to get some digits and a feeling for what the situation was, and to say we should get together later in the night. Now, having been dead wrong before, I wouldn't doubt that I am again about the situation. So I'm not gonna say anything else here that might jinx me, just the facts, ma'am.

Then behind the bar was this dude, can't remember his name, but he's Grace's fiancé, seemed like a cool guy. Called Heather somewhere in there, left a message. Told her the club was dead, but we were going to go hang out at Andrew's if she wanted to come. Did some shots with Jason (manager Jason, not my bro) and Andrew. I actually only did two, because lucky me, I had to drive. But between the full meal, my size, and the hour and a half after I stopped, I was fine. Why we were hanging around for an hour and a half after close is a matter for discussion.

The three of us (Grace's man had just left maybe ten minutes before) were sitting at the bar and we hear a CRACK from the entryway, like maybe a heavy plate fell. We all run to see what happened, and one of the doors is shattered, it looks like. Outside, there is no one, and nothing. Andrew swears he didn't see a car. The glass is double paned tempered security glass, and the inner pane is intact. So the door's secure, just busted. Jason insists on doing the responsible thing and calling the cops right then, so we all wait around for them to get to the restaurant. Props to the SFPD for fast response, even on a non emergency call; the unit was there in five minutes, maybe ten. The officer took Jason's statement, didn't really talk to me or Andrew. Officailly, we mightn't have been there.

Then we got out, before any more disasters could happen. Andrew's house, beer, chillin' with music. Heather calls me back, can't really come over, but she'd love to see me sometime. The important part is she called. Jason tells me that I have no chance with her, I say that's never stopped me before. And then around three, I realize I'm struggling to stay awake, and go and pass out in Andrew's spare bedroom.

I wake up when my dad (not pictured; that's Jason) calls, tell him things are fine, go back to sleep for a bit, then I go home and cook brunch for myself. Eggs and sausage and potatoes. MMMM.

Printing

2008-01-04T01:27:00.000-08:00

So I'm finally making some prints again, after almost 2 months without big paper. I've been making my little journal prints, but the truth is they aren't as important to me as really making big beautiful prints. I'm on my fifth sheet of paper (out of 25) and I've printed two images so far (that is if this one comes out well). It's important for me to do this work, to make prints every now and then. I can shoot all the time for a while, but I get all clogged up if I'm not printing. The shooting stagnates, and I start seeing the same things over and over. It's hard to make a beginning without knowing there will be an end.

So, I'm spending a night at home, but it's a night well spent, because tomorrow I'll shoot better than I have in months; things just happen better. The light Falls on everything right. Which is boring for a blog post, but that's how it goes. Busy workday followed by an evening of printing. Fun Fun.

2008-01-03T00:59:00.000-08:00

So it's the third, and already this year is taking a turn for the awesome. Tonight I asked myself that age old question: Should I go out tonight? The answer, in case you don't know, is always yes.

Today was a good day, in case you can't tell. I woke up around noon, when I finally remembered it was payday. This was after 11 (11!) hours of good deep sleep. You know, that "I'm a hibernating bear" kind of sleep. So I woke myself up and called David Scheinbaum, an old teacher of mine, to see if he has time to look at photos, and he said Yeah, how about the 30th at 1? and I said sure, of course.

Then I took my car downtown, a short drive, but I had plans, you see. Picked up my paycheck, said hi to Jen, my boss. The guys in the bike shop on the other end of the mall, Mellow Velo, said that they needed some photos, so I said ok, how's tomorrow work, Mike said fine. So, I got back in my car and drove myself to camera center to pay my bill.

When I got there, I realized I could get some paper too, and so I did. 25 sheets of glossy ilford goodness. now I can finally finish the set of work prints of this series I've been working on for the last three months. Had a little problem with my bank card, and Grace was there to sort it out, and hopefully it went through all right at the end of the day.

Then I went back to mellow velo for some inter net, downloaded some zep, and went ahead and did there photos for them right then. And while I was photographing, I walked around downtown and shot the stuff in today's post. Than I rode home

I was home for just a minute, called my mother, talked to her for a bit, she's doing all right but her hair's all gone (chemo). Then I went out and applied for a job at trader joe's, they interviewed me on the spot, maybe they'll call and I won't be so broke all the time. I could even start paying on those loans that this blog is supposed to be about.

Then I was home again, im'd with some people, found out it is legal to have dual citizenship, and then called Andrew, this totally cool dude. I actually was waffling about whether or not to go out, then Lora, my diamond in the rough, reminded me, the answer to that question is always yes.

You see, Andrew is gay. And he has a crush on me, and I'm all like dude, not into dudes. And he's all like whatever I'm still gonna flirt. So before I went out, I was all worried that he was going to get the wrong idea, and a) get attached and/or b) expect things from me that I'm not about to do. And he was totally chill. Still a flirty bastard, but that's just the way he is.

So I meet him and a bunch of his friends at the blue corn, have a couple of beers, talk, you know, just chillin. Everyone was cool; Tall dude Jason, his boyfriend Rob (by boyfriend, I mean they've been together for 15 years) and other dude with his smart daughter. A cool crowd, in other words. So I chilled.

Then we went back to Jason and Rob's house for a second, to drop Rob and wait for one other guy, Chef something. I know, I know, I should remember these names, but I'm terrible at them, unless I write them down right then. Then there were the covers.

By covers, I mean, someone took pop songs that everyone knows and made them indescribably gross. For example, "Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap" became "Dirty Deeds, Done with sheep." There were 20 of them, each worse than the last. But it was funny, I'll admit. You had to be there, though.

And Rob showed me their retirement fund star trek collection, all two rooms of it. I love it when people are so into something. And I found out that Rob works for pasatiempo, and he might be able to talk to some people there about freelance work.(!)

Then we went bowling, where I rolled well but didn't aim well. Oh well. Then Heather showed up. Heather is this gorgeous redhead, I mean, so red you think it'd be from a bottle, bright. Her eyebrows matched it though, so I kind of think it's real. Andrew got her there, in deference to me. I mean what a guy- he wants me, but he's cool enough to get a girl there for me anyway. And a knockout. Eyes like you wouldn't believe, a voice like Marylyn Monroe, all breathy and high and oooh la la, that hair, long legs up to a... you get the picture.

So I chat her up a little while the guys play another round, lose abysmally at air hockey to her, and then we just talk some more. I fumbled some words in english, and then said some things in Portuguese, ("falo bem em portuges, mas nao ingles"), and she was all "I love portugese, it just sounds so good. I don't even want to know what you're saying, you can just talk to me." Being the oaf that I am, I maybe say a little more and then switch back to English. All to soon, she's gone, has to get up in the morning.

And everyone else finishes their game, time to go, and then Andrew wants to sing karaoke, and I'm not at all a fan of karaoke. I don't even like covers. But how can I say no when he's just done all this introducing for me? So I sit in the bar of the bowling alley with him through two songs. He's so into it it's ridiculous. I mean, all out. Then we stop by burrito spot, where he buys, and I dropped him off at his place. And now I have breakfast. Rock on. Now I sleep.

2008-01-01T13:30:00.000-08:00

So, My New Years' Eve/morn rocked. I went to the cowgirl, as planned, and the cover was like 15 bucks, I had 10 and change. I was ready to not even try to talk my way in, but first I decided to have a smoke. Then this dude I know from way back, Porter, showed and said he'd cover me. So I was in. He's a little creepy, but I gotta give props to the dude that got me in.

D numbers was playing, and although I'm not a jam band kind of guy, they always are an exception. They just have a really fun, upbeat energy that was right for the night. I'll let the photos tell some now, I'm tired:

And then I ended up back at this dude Andrew's house. Drinking beers, and then I pass out on his couch. How is it that when I'd love to meet some girl to pass the time with, I keep meeting dudes? I'm not into dudes, universe. They're cool and all, but not what I need. But He did take me to breakfast this morning, at Tecolote cafe. It was really pretty good, and then I went home to sleep.

2007-12-30T22:05:00.001-08:00

So my task tonight was to go out and meet someone, and I did. But not the way you're thinking, you dirty ass. No, I was wandering down to the ATM and said what's up to this dude who was standing there on the porch of double take, and he said wassup back, and I didn't break stride, you know, the city walk. But I walked the same way back, and he says hey I'm tryin' to have a conversation here, and that stops me, and I look at him and really take stock.

What I'd first taken for a lip ring was actually a bad cut on his lip; he was wearing plain clothes, no brands. Dressed down to the background, like I usually do. Layers- two hats, three shirts I could see, probably more on bottom than I could see too. CD Player with big headphones. He had on sunglasses, even though the sun had been down for a while. They even still had the UV400 sticker on them. His hood was up until he was comfortable, shading his eyes and casting a strong shadowjust at the bottom of his glasses. At first i thought he was taller than he really was, because the porch was raised. I saw him for a fellow traveler and wanderer immediately.

So he talked and I listened, about what he thought about zen and the tao and all sorts of wandering things. When he was about to say a cheap good brand of bourbon, I said it at the same time- "Bullitt."

As we were standing there talking, he would talk at the passersby, to see if they would say something back, to have some human contact, I don't know why really. It was interesting to see people's reactions; this guy has a knack for saying something that people weren't expecting.

Then I say well, why don't we go inside and shoot a game of pool, and this guy tells me he isn't welcome there, for whatever reason. I didn't ask particulars. I'm hungry at this point, and I tell him that, that I'm going to go in and get some food. He says, Man I'm hungry. If he was faking or conning, he's the best I've ever met (and I've known some really good liars and cons). I really believed him, and so I offered to get him some food and bring it back to him.

Then we got to talking again, and he decided he'd rather walk down to the store and have me buy him a beer; he had the money, but they knew him in the store. And that was fine with me, too. I don't mind helpin' a guy out, especially a fellow traveller, when someday I might be in a simalar position and in need of assistance somehow. So we're discussing, still talking about various spiritual things, and it's hard to get off of it because he keeps saying shit that's either crazy or funny or cool. But finally we do and he has changed his mind again; food and booze are easy enough to steal, what he really wants is a pack of smokes. And I like this guy, he's a good guy, just really down on his luck, so I go one further and tell him I'll spot him for some smokes. So, after a little more conversation, we get moving, and then I realize I can drive and come back, so I do.

I split, go and get a pack of my brand, spirit blues, then realize in the parking lot that I have a pack of winstons, not my brand, but unopened (how I came to have that pack is complicated and unimportant). So I went and got that for the dude, and kept the spirits for myself. He seemed happily surprised I gave him a whole pack. Things work out well sometimes.

Then I went inside, got a plate of fries. The cowgirl has the second best fries in town; pasqual's are the best, all garlicky and seasoned the way someone who paid attention in culinary school would do them. The light behind the bar in the cowgirl is terrible, my only complaint about the place, so I didn't really shoot anything. The first thing the bartender said to me was "What am I buying you?" Now, so you know, I know her; We've had lunch and she's been over to look at my work (I'm editing down "from a moving vehicle" to a series of portraits, and she was a big help).

I'd called her yesterday to see if she was busy, wanted to grab a drink. She didn't get back to me, and so I'd written it off. I didn't even know if she was in town. But she gave me drinks anyway. I have to wonder if she's maybe into me... or maybe she's just the kind of person who cares about staying in touch. Not that I'd mind. Not only is she pretty and smart, she hasn't bullshitted me once in our dozen or so encounters. Not even a little. Most girls by now would have at least once. So that's good.

This pretty girl sitting next to me asked me about my camera; turns out her and her friend were road tripping to Oregon so she could do a photo internship. I told her about my smokers idea, and she seemed to like it. It got a laugh anyway, which is a good sign. I've never had a bad idea that was received with laughter.

So I'll probably spend new years at the cowgirl.

not to get all emo or anything...

2007-12-30T15:15:00.000-08:00

But I have a little problem. I suffer from periodic depression. Not like when everything's going to hell I feel bad depression, because everything's always going to hell. I'm 100k in debt, you know? That's not the problem. The problem is, sometimes my chemicals get out of whack, which screws with my sleep, which causes me to go more out of whack. This is usually a downward spiral of about a month, and at bottom I don't think I'll be able to get out. Can't go into crowded places, see new people. Work gets really difficult. It just seems like too much trouble.

Of course, one of the things I love the most normally is to meet new people, talk to them, drink with them, photograph them, etc. That I can't make myself do these things makes me feel worse, too, of course. Then, some day somewhere along, usually when things are at their worst, the rent's late, project's overdue, no friends in town, girl dumped me, then I look around and feel better. I don't know why.

I think part of it is something will trigger in me the deep realization that I'm being stupid. That I should laugh at myself for not doing the things that I know will help me. And I do laugh at myself, more often than not, big loud belly laughs. I can say without reserve the ability to laugh honestly at my own stupidity has saved my life.

The feeling when that happens, it's being free. It's the first breath after you nearly drown, it's flipping on a light in a dark room, it's seeing your truest love after months apart. Everything is better, for a little bit. Then everything turns back from 11, (scale of 1-10) and it's average for a while.

The usual trigger is a friend. Whoever they are, they'll say something to me, can be random, can be funny, can be supportive, but it's instant, and I'm better. So this one goes out to all the friends who've helped me out.

2007-12-29T17:50:00.000-08:00

So I wrote a whole long post about what I though was a good photo, then realized I didn't think that way, not really. What's a good photo varies from frame to frame. No way to codify it. There are photographers and subjects that bore the hell out of me most of the time, but sometimes they break their (subjects or the way the photog looks at things) mold just enough to be really interesting. And then there are a few that always seem amazing.

To learn to look at photographs, go to a library and look through every photo book they have. Really look at the pages. When you've looked at 10,000 images (maybe 100,000) that other people think are good, you'll have a better idea of what you like, too. If you do this while doing the steps below, even better. You'll learn a lot about what makes a good photo, and how it keeps changing. That's all. It's been a long day. I'm gonna go disco nap before I go out. Not to a disco though. Those are for losers.

How to take pictures

2007-12-29T17:09:00.001-08:00

1) The first thing to do is to spend 6 months learning how to use the camera (If you're already technically proficient, you can skip this). It only has one button you should care about, the shutter button, but there are a lot of little technical niggles you need to get out of the way before you can go to only caring about the shutter button.

2) Forget what everyone has told you about what is and isn't a good photo. You're the one who gets to decide that now, when you're looking through the viewfinder.

3) Care about what you're doing. I mean really care, as in you're gonna be on top of the world when you're doing it well, and feel like shit for days on end when you can't make a good picture. You should care enough that even though you're tired, you're exhausted, you can barely lift the camera, you're still seeing pictures. And if you trained right in the first six months, you should be able to go on automatic (even if your camera isn't) and still make a picture when you see one. You should see them in your dreams, after you've fallen asleep, camera in hand.

4) Get out of the house. This should be obvious, but you can only shoot so much at home, and most of it is boring. unless you have a really exciting home life, and then you're excused.

5) Forget landscapes. Also architecture, still lifes, and anything else that isn't moving. Still subjects have been done to death, and 99% of the time, you're not doing anything new or interesting but shooting yet another sunset. Shoot it if it calls you (you should care enough about your shooting that you can tell me to fuck off, too), but edit that shit for personal use.

6) Grow some balls. (For the female readers, grow some ovaries). Take risks. Learn to move as fast as you can. If you think a picture isn't going to work, but you saw something, take the damn frame, move on, get close, back up. What attracted you? Close in on that. Don't be afraid to get in someone's face. If you start to take a photo but then don't because it would slow down the group or make someone look at you or maybe even talk to you, then you should ask yourself when you became such a chickenshit. It takes less that a 30th of a second to take a picture, and why should you be afraid to talk to people? We all need more friends, and mostly, the individuals you meet will enrich you and your work.

This is the step I'm on, so if anyone knows step 7, please, tell me. Next up: what a good photo is (how to look at a picture).

2007-12-28T21:24:00.000-08:00

So, today started out well. I'd been having insomnia, and since I went home, it's been better. but I'd also been sleeping in a nice queen bed, so I was a little worried that when I got back I would have trouble sleeping again. Not so, and while I did wake up a few times, I fell righ back asleep too. I have to wonder if it was something else bothering me, keeping me from sleeping... but I've talked about all the shit I worked out in OKC enough already. onto today.

First thing I did was to roll over and set my alarm. This was a 9ish, and I set it to 10:45. Can't get up too early. But around 9:30 I decided I'd slept enough, and got up and made coffee. Then I spent some quality time on the internet, catching up with the world. Walked to work. There's something nice about walking, beating pavement. I hip shot the tourists, and have nothing to show for it. That's what I get for hipshooting pictures. It's really chickenshit, and I know better, but some days I can't make myself let the people I photograph know what I'm doing.

Work was work. My mind was elsewhere, to tell the truth. I did image stuff all day, though. Looked up at 1:30 and though oh god, when will this day end? then suddenly it was 4:30 and time to roll up for the day.

Then I went to do errands, and I was surprised when goodwill still had the dresser I'd seen before Christmas. And since there's only one broken drawer, and since I know which end of a hammer to use on it, everything's peachy. Groceries, home, eating. Watched Snatch. Good movie. And now I'm here, on a friday night. Consequence of being broke and all of my friends out of town. Might call someone though. It's still early.

new theory

2007-12-28T09:23:00.000-08:00

I have a new theory: the person that introduces you to Led Zeppelin will stick around/stay persistent in your life. Because that's a true friend. Tony might agree.

I hadn't really heard them until last summer, on this epic road trip. I mean, there are the inevitable radio songs and of course I'd heard those, but actual albums? Forget it. My childhood was as deprived of rock and roll as it was flush in moving, new accents, and road trips to see my dad.

So, me and Lora were getting ready for this trip, getting all the music we would need on my ipod, and she asks me innocently, "Do you have Zep 3 and 4?" and of course I didn't. Then, a few minutes later, I did. But they sat innocently on my ipod for another week and a half.

So, to set the scene properly: We've just spent a week in Colorado, with Lora's folks (two sets), then Camped a night at some lake in the SW part. We're going into the four corners, Miles and miles of the most beautiful desert known to man. I think it was black dog that came on random, and then of course we had to put on the zep.

It was a religious experience... I was bouncing off the inside of the car, I was shaking, I was taking pictures... I've never had an experience that manic, that supremely good-feeling. I get excited just thinking about it. Luckily Lora was driving, and we didn't crash. And thanks again to that same pretty lady who gave me the tunes. Life is good.

2007-12-27T17:14:00.000-08:00

So today started around 5:30am, with coffee and goodbyes. I loaded up the car, said goodbye to my dad and mom, and drove to the coffee shop Lora works at for one last hug and a cup for the road. Then I hit the highway.

I-40 is a four thousand mile long double barreled shotgun of a road, almost a strait shot from Barstow, Cali to the Atlantic. I've traveled the entire length at one time or another, and for some stretches, it's just miles and miles of nothing. That was a large part of today. It was overcast in oklahoma, and for some reason there were about ten cops before Amarillo, and none after. But I'm wise to their strategies, no problems there.

As soon as I crossed the texas border, the wind picked up and a fog descended. The Texas Panhandle (pictured, in fog) was like that the whole way through. Made driving interesting to do, but not much to tell. I gassed up in Amarillo, and then moved on down the road. I kept needing to stop right after I passed the last exit for 50 miles, for some reason. Something threw off my timing.

Right as I got into NM, the fog lifted and the sky opened up after another half hour. There were a ton of semis, but only a few cars. No cops, like I said. 285 was lovely, and just as I got into Santa Fe proper, it started snowing here. So I unloaded and let everyone know I was fine, and then got some internet set up on my phone. I've archived, I've blogged, I'm good to go. Go nap, that is.

2007-12-26T20:11:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning and it was snowing. This turned out to be not so bad as it seemed at first. I got my act together, did laundry and such, and then sat around a little, wishing the snow away, which didn't work.

Lora got off at 2, so we got together at around 2:30 and ran around like crazy. She needed to size her feet for doc martens to order them online (the ones she wants are impossible to find in town), so first we went to red wing's, because the have a machine for shoe sizing, but the guy there wouldn't let us use it, so we went to another big discount shoe store, where they ended up not having docs or one of those metal foot gagues. So finally we went to the mall, found a store that had docs, tried on two pair, pretended to be uninterested and walked away with her shoe size in british boot. And to compensate for going to the mall, we got pretzels at auntie anne's. It's a superstition of mine that while I'm travelling, when I pass an auntie anne's pretzel, I get one.

After that we went and got coffees. Lora made me spill mine a little rough housing, but really, I deserved that elbow to my side. We drove, we walked, we ended up sitting on top of a parking garage for an hour, talking about things. We know each other so well, are so connected, that a lot of conversation is just gesture, touch, body language. A lot of subtext. We say we share a brain. So we huddled close and shared thoughts, and it was really good to be there for a bit.

After a long time on that roof, we were both freezing and in need of a heated space, so we drove all the way to moore (half an hour) on surface roads, and then back. We both got thawed out and were hungry, so we went to a sonic, but the gods were being unkind and their milkshake machine was busted. So we went back downtown. Dinner. Then I drove her home.

So I was wrong about us not being us any more. That made me really happy. There's always a next time with Lora. I'm still leaving and she's still staying, though. But that's temporary; when this girl makes plans, she sticks to 'em. On the plus side, I won't be in OKC any more. On the minus side, I'll miss her and I'm still in the hole about 110 grand. Tommorow on 100k: student loans, or how to never get out of debt.

So now that I'm stuck....

2007-12-26T09:59:00.000-08:00

In OKC for a minute, let's talk about how much it sucks here. No, not really. I've never liked this town. i know some really spectacular people who live here, but for me this place is the pits. Never Fails: I come here happy and feel like shit at the end.

I first moved here when dinosaurs and 386 boxes still roamed the earth. The internets was still a baby and so was I, really. I had moved around a lot before that, though, and had managed to get a pretty good handle on a few places. It was here in oklahoma I learned what a hater is, and that you gotta shake 'em off, or they'll just pull you down. Fuck 'em. After 10 years of it, I knew it was time to get out. So I did. Now I only come back for family (and one other someone, you know who you are).

Oh yeah, don't send your kids to this blog. I say fuck a lot.

And I've travelled to a few places, slept with some of their finest women (like my hero tony p, nothing in here is true), and one thing that doesn't change is that the hardest part is leaving all those excellent people behind. It's something in my nature, I have to move on every while to someplace new. So in six or eight months, I'll be hanging my hat in a new place, no longer santa but easterly and with some ocean nearby. some place with all night pizza, bars, and women.

But it still hurts to go, and to walk away from someone I care about, and then I find out I've walked away from her for good, even though we still share a brain, we're not us anymore. That's all.

First Post

2007-12-25T17:29:00.000-08:00

So I'm sitting here at home, it's christmas, and I'm blogging. Since this is the first post, I should explain myself. My name is Matt, I'm a photographer based in Santa Fe, New Mexico. I have 100,000 dollars in student loans that I have to pay back, hence the name of the blog. But I also want to put up photos and write about stuff. Random things that happen.
So, a blog seems like a good idea.