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Today at the pump

The Sole Prop's Sister?


Under here.

February 1, 2010

Reel Back In
Monday. Oh, man. They're saying “showers” all the way through next Tuesday starting this afternoon. Are they allowed to do that??!! In California?

I see they're using new acronyms in the press now, POTUS (President Of The United States) and SCOTUS (Supreme Court Of The United States) are the two I've seen so far. Can COTUS (Congress Of The United States), SOTUS (Senate Of The United States) and HOTUS (House Of The United States) be far behind? A child of Twitter? I guess. Not sure what it means if it means anything. SPOTUS (Sole Proprietor Of The United States)? Has a ring to it, but if it ever surfaces, it will be referring to someone else.

Let's see, we normally start with breakfast. Awake at eight-thirty, very close to the time I awoke yesterday morning, both nights now with more than eight hours sleep. A walk to breakfast just before nine returning home around ten-thirty, the sun bright. Are we still looking at rain starting this afternoon and continuing for another week? Best to get a walk in, tired or not. And I am tired for whatever reason with eight hours of sleep. Diddle-dee-deep.

Later. Rather than going out for a walk I futzed with a self portrait wearing this black velvet Halston rock and roll jacket I go on about, even though it looks like rain is on the way precluding getting out later and breathing some decent air. Well, whatever's considered decent air in Oakland. I can't call these more than snapshots taken with really good gear, but used by an idiot like an idiot. I know what to do to make corrections, I have enough years shooting film with both strobe and flash bulbs to understand what's happening under the hood and what it is I'm not willing to do to make the necessary changes.

Still, the first series of photographs showed me with a look as sour as looks need to be. This was me acting in what I thought my normal mode, my OK old guy mode as opposed to my cranky old man mode and the results were, um, sobering. I'm not worried about the wrinkles and such, those come with the territory, but why the sour puss? Ok, try some more, crack a smile, act for the camera. Better, but still.

One of my cousin's sons is doing improve, acting in musicals, TV sit coms and such and he's going, as it happens, with a young woman who's also into acting and who's father and grandfather were actors you'd recognize if you were to see their pictures. They take great photographs. OK, they're young and good looking, but I get the impression they've thought about how they should look on the camera and they, at some point, practiced. When someone asks them to pose for a picture they're able to project warmth and humor without thinking the way a fly fisherman casts a fly with a flick of the wrist after years of fishing. A skill developed over time with practice, necessary in their trade in other words. And then I think my theory is a way of making excuses. I have plenty of other cousins and they and their kids look good in pictures. I know, I've taken some. Sigh.

And, of course, beyond the suject, the technical stuff: lighting intensity and direction, color temperature, the messy finger paint background, none of which I'm evidently willing to correct, all of which I know how to correct. This sinus-upper palate in this head of mine has consequences. (It can take the fall.) We'll make another call to the doctor this afternoon, see if something can't be done for the never changing lungs at least. Each little piece you can reel back in helps.

The photograph was taken of the 1111 Broadway stairs overlooking 12th Street with a Nikon D3S mounted with a 24 - 70mm f 2.8 Nikkor G lens at f 8 at 1/200th second, ISO 200.