Tuesday, November 28, 2006

11/27: Mr. Corcoran drools over the opportunities awaiting him in the big world now that he has a DSLR once more.

Monday, November 27, 2006

11/27: My older sister took me to see Robert Randolph and the Family Band at 9:30 Club Saturday night. I saw them there two years ago and they were really tight--energetic and excited. This time they kind of sucked. But she, Corey, and I did eat some decent Ethiopian food beforehand and then hung out with a crowd of folks on my porch until someone on the street brandished a handgun--not at us, but it still ticked me off and sent us all inside for a while.

Met up with Prica and Lara last night for food. It's good to hang out with motivated, talented, and fun goodlooking girls. Then I learned a new nickname and got pissed off--took a while to send the last vestige of that sentiment packing. Got to see Peaches at 9:30 Club for free thanks to someone to whom I don't want to be in debt. Very nearly passed up the ticket due to that thought process. I don't like being pissed off. Takes too much energy. I hang out with jerks all the time, but they're usually obnoxious in goodnatured ways and if I get pissed off at them it's just because I'm a dumbass. It's quite possible I'm being unreasonable now, but it ticked me off in a way that I hadn't been in a while--really since a bitch of an instructor ticked me off last year.




11/26: Corey and I accompanied Mike to Friendship Heights to check out a camera. It was a weird trip and meeting.

That's a weird area, too. Dodging heavy traffic while crossing the 4+ lanes of Wisconsin Ave was like being inserted into an old Atari game. It's like a shopping mall with a major road bisecting it just for kicks. Recent days of trips around the metropolitan region have put suburban cut-and-paste shopping centers and "town centers" on my mind again.

I understand why people shop at big box stores, I really do--it's cheap and the impersonal, familiar atmosphere can make shopping fun, plus it's convenient to find everything under one roof. But it doesn't really support anyone other than big boys in far away places and their products wind up costing more than the quality would indicate. But what do I know? I lived at home for most of my life and was supported by my parents until relatively recently! My point of view comes from a position of not having had to learn how to stretch my dollars, and never really worrying about it. I still don't, my budgeting is primitive and full of wishful thinking. But I'm a fairly immature being and if I continue to water myself I hope I'll grow, be able to cast a pretty good shadow, and have a healthy amount of green to support myself. Blah blah blah.


Thursday, November 23, 2006

11/22-23: I drove Mike and Jenn to the NGA for a visit on a cold and rainy Thanksgiving eve. We (also known as Mike) made a photo in honor of Marissa Long. Mike never stopped his annoying "it's America, bay-bee" comments, not even while writing poems in the cold rain.

Much later that evening the roommates of 1841 ran through the cold rain to Rafal's bar. Subsequent stops included Fox and Hounds to briefly say hi to Hatnim, and after a quick nap, a fun foray to St. Ex where Katie, Saskia, Martha and other stars from the old 1841 days were in attendance for a fun night of funky records courtesy of The Deep Crate Collective featuring D-Mac, Neville-C, and The Secret Chimp.

Now cold and alone in 1841, I wait for Corey to arrive from Bed-Stuy for a few days of catching up and eating good food. Happy Thanksgiving!



Tuesday, November 21, 2006

11/20: Spent much of the day with my boyz Mike & Rafal. Eventually Rafal went to work (pfft! Work!?) so Mike and I wandered to the Holocaust Museum to see the photos of the Darfur genocide that will be projected on the building from 11/20-11/26. When we arrived there was still an hour of ceremonial speeches to go through, so we continued on to the Corcoran where I visited with Kim. He's teaching two color classes as usual. Chris Combs and I subbed for him last Thursday and we had two good people stay, and there were two people working last night but he has got to be bored out of his mind with the lack of workers in his classes. Corey's coming down from NYC for a visit Thursday!






Friday, November 17, 2006

11/17: Another picture-less post. I've had a great run these last six months. Life's been up and down, topsy turvy, fun one minute, boring the next, with my "it's the end of the world" freakouts. Many, no, the vast majority, of hours over those months were just indescribably good--the best summer I can recall. But I've got a huge roadblock in the way of those hours or days or moments returning. I don't talk to people beyond the absolute bare minimum. So my communication level is seen as pretty poor. Why?

Well, I can only give my background--not as an excuse, but to expose my framework--and hope that it makes sense. When I was in 3rd grade I ran away from class one morning when my old scary bitch of a teacher scared me enough to do so. I was chased around the soccer field of the old Meriwether Lewis elementary school in Albemarle County by the two school shrinks. The first one, a woman, chased me through the thin woods at the edge of the field, but I was small--low center of gravity--and fast and rapidly changed directions if ever she got close enough to be a threat. Then the male came out, and he was pleasant and engaged me in conversation from the opposite side of a soccer goal. Before long my mom showed up to get me, and I went to a shrink in Charlottesville for the first of what would become a weekly visit that must've gone on for many months.

I guess I probably started retreating around then. I must have been 8. I remember ignoring the shrink, and trying to run away from those appointments too. But I went back to school, returned to being friends with everybody. Of course it was a struggle to physically get me to school, my parents had to catch me--I struggled with them almost every morning (at least in my very limited and hazy recollection), one morning I kicked my dad's windshield so hard it cracked and he had to get it replaced. I remember being miserable. But playing football during recess, always picked early, I was friends with nerds, geeks, girls, boys, rednecks, rich kids... I got along and try to get along, the teachers liked me, I did well because it was easy. Maybe it's because I rarely voice an opinion that I usually manage to get along. Hiding behind the retarded shy smile or smirk on my face.

I remember a fall night that my dad took me camping on the Skyline Drive (he cooked dinner on a gas cookstove--steak and peas) and until the last handful of years it was one of my few positive memories of the fall season.

6th grade brought a new school, Henley, from which I ran away after a few days because it was new and frightening, big, different (and stupid). That was the end of public school. A few months at an alternative school, Tandem (before it became a snooty Friends school), and I ran away again. That was fall of 1989 and I was 11. From then until I went to the Corcoran in 2002 I was out of school.

Homeschooling for me consisted of reading gazillions of books, riding my bike, running around in the woods, riding around running errands with my mom, and thinking too much. Internalizing everything. Being too smart and too full of myself. Setting up dueling Andrews in my head with whom to hold conversations. Of course I can babble, but on a consistent basis I guess I don't hold up my end during times where conversation (talk between two people) would normally occur. That's recently been pointed out as hugely frustrating.

Now I find myself having publicly and loudly set a big old goal of living in Spain within the next few years, and want to do that, but I also know that things come up and plans and goals change and shift as other things pop up. And all these thoughts I've had in my head regarding that sort of thing have not been vocalized, but because I've thought them so many times I assume they're common knowledge to people I like. Of course they're not.

For me a goal is not necessarily something to actually reach, but to keep a steady distance behind, so that one is always in motion, not getting static--for instance, learning Spanish won't require me to live in Spain (I will travel there, possibly for an extended time, but it will be very hard to actually live there and work), but it will allow me to communicate with a large portion of the U.S.'s population--but if I don't have a giant goal out in front who's to say I'll try to follow through on learning and stretching my brain.

I think most people I consider my true friends don't really have any inkling of who I am. That's not a knock. I've gotten stuck so deep in my head that I don't know who I am... so I just have to trust that there's something good (or close enough) that will return me to my surface and let me stop being a moody bastard to people I want in my life. Whatever. I've spent so many years silent and lonely and switching between caring immensely and being indifferent and apathetic about everything that I just don't know when to speak up when I'm really bothered by something.

Spending the last six months with a girl, but not WITH that girl at the same time, has shown me a lot. Mostly good. But also a lot of stupid stuff about me. And if I just ended that good thing, I'm a dumbass, but maybe (I doubt it in this instance) change is good (as good as being happy? Probably not.). Maybe I'll get motivated to find something else to obsess over--like photography. Who knows. Broadcasting confusion on the blog. So that the dozen people who look at it regularly will wonder what's wrong with me. Ha. Nothing's wrong. I'm the same as I always am. Just communicating the only way I can. In silence. To primarily myself. It's kind of funny. Sometimes I refresh my own blog page to see if anything's changed. Hehe. Anyway.

I'm a 28-y/o art school grad, a photographer who professes to play bass despite not having played much in four years, and rarely with a live band (mostly rocking out with ye olde stereo), and have no great ideas about what I'm doing. Period. Paying the bills. Barely. Probably going to be missing hanging out with that girl really soon. At least I enjoy my jobs. Climbing trees pays twice as well as my gallery work, but I learn stuff and am exposed to new stuff every day at both of those jobs, which are my main sources of income--so I can't complain about them! That's the end of my blather. Peace.

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

11/14: Ripped down 29 to Charlottesville to take my dad to lunch the day before his 66th birthday. Picked up prints from home to show the Corcoran Color class I'll be substitute teaching Thursday evening. Busted back up the road to catch ... And You Will Know Us By The Trail Of Dead at 9:30 Club. The openers sucked, and it was only an hour-long set by the headliners... but it was good (and I got to hang with a couple of cool young Corcoran photographers). Worked a couple of days this week out in VA with my friend Lyt.