Group Rantings

I have a gripe that perhaps some of you have as well.  There are tens of thousands of groups on Flickr.  Over the years, I’ve joined quite a few and contribute when I can.  There is an entire segment of groups centralised around the cities in which we reside.  I too think this is grand.  It gives us an opportunity to show how beautiful or ugly our city may be according to the filter we use to perceive our surroundings. 

literacy

Again, the premise is grand but the implementation of such a construct is atrocious.  My home cities group is filled with pictures of food and humorous expressions!  What does that say about the city in which I was born?  We’re funny and fat?  :)   In all fairness, there are shots of grand architecture, landscapes, portraits, and lovely shots that tell compelling stories.  Photography, at least in my wee opinion, is about evoking an emotional response in the viewers.  The trick is to get the actual reaction
you were hoping for.  In just as many instances, however, it is just as important to tell a story with that simple yet daedal medium.

Ask a different photographer, and you’ll get a different answer every time.  :)   Enough rambling.  I’m going to bugger off now and have a cuppa tea.

preening

Eastern Tiger Swallowtail

A Mans Meal

About two or three nights a month I have to do audits and resets overnight.  I hate working third shift.  I’m very thankful that I don’t have to do it all the time unlike so many of my co-workers.  It should really be outlawed.  Nobody should have to work overnight.  It ruins your life.  I did it years ago, when I was in my early twenties.  I found it literally impossible to lead any sort of normal life while working third.  It even messes up the weekends.

The guys I work with are nice though, so the time goes by a lot faster.  We had a new guy from another team helping us last night, but we all got along like old school mates.  About 1:00AM, we went to lunch, supper, or whatever you want to call a meal at that time of the night.  We ended up going to the only restaurant open.

I’m a health nut for the most part.  I only allow healthy food in my house.  However, every once in a while I’ll have something unhealthy to balance things out a wee bit.  So, us guys sat down at the counter and started ordering our meals.  The older blokes ordered breakfast consisting of eggs, bacon, and grits.  I, on the other hand, ordered hash browns all the way.  This consist of shredded potatoes, diced tomatoes, cheese, cured ham, bell peppers, portabella mushrooms, jalapeno peppers, and a spicy chilli.  It taste better than it looks.

After a few minutes, the waitress brought over our food.  The new guys eyes enlarged to the size of saucers, as she laid the plate of what looked like steamy mush down in front of me. 

“What the hell is that?  He enquired while staring in disbelief. 

“This is a mans meal”, I laughingly uttered whilst pouring hot sauce over the top of the mush.

“Good God man, your’ stomach will explode if you eat that.”  He said with a sincere tone.

"I laughed, and said, “Nah, you just have to have an iron stomach like me in order to enjoy it”.

“You Mexican er somethin’?”

“Nope, I inherited the stomach of steel from my Cherokee ancestors.”

He sat there and watched me clean my plate in disbelief.  I explained later that I don’t eat that garbage everyday.  Such a venture would clog anyone’s veins.  I came home this morning and had a proper bowl of oatmeal and two cups of Irish Breakfast Tea.  I may have the eyes of a bat, but I’ve got the stomach of a swine.  :)

Literal City

I wrote this wee poem back in late 2008 when things were not so grand in the land of Davis.  I found it today by accident while perusing one of my backup drives.  It speaks for itself, I think. 

Reflecting Footpath

I have watched a myriad
Of red and green lights reflect
In the cloudy rivers edge
When night has settled on this city.

I have trod around the broken green
And clear glass shards on the asphalt,
The flattened blue and silver beer cans
And licking smoke trails of spent ciggies.

I have heard the bellow of engines pass,
The screak of tyres as they brake,
The snares and drums of stereos
That blast from cars stopped at lights.

The smell of damp alley-ways,
From exhaust and discarded crisps
Half drowned in petrol runoff
Assault the air on nights like this.

I have felt the vacuum of empty streets
Between the buildings, wet and cold
With bits of dust and trash and rain
From construction cages on new buildings.

I have turned my back and walked away,
Peered down at the river from the bridge,
Seen amorphous ripple shivers there
And favoured them to the literal city.