Friday, December 30, 2005

So last night I'm fidgeting with this little book light I got for Christmas. You know, the kind that you clip on the back cover, and with a light on the end of a gooseneck to illuminate what you're reading without disturbing anybody nearby? Well, this one has an LED instead of a normal incandescent lamp, and it gives off this absolutely frigid pale light. I was using it as a cat toy with Armand and Cozy when I suddenly admired how they looked when I shined it on them. So I set up my tripod and camera by my computer desk, and started experimenting...



I wanted to see how tight the spot illumination was at about a 45 degree angle.



For this one, I held the light over the camera and used my reflection in the lens to get an idea of what it looked like. When I first saw this, I was disappointed, but it occured to me that maybe with a little Photoshopping, this may be salvageable.



And voila! An uber-dramatic self portrait. If only I hadn't moved while the shutter was open...

---

There was another photo I may post later where I pointed the light closer to light up only my eyes, but it turned out just looking like a picture of a guy with a flashlight pointed at his face. :-)
Finally! The creative dry spell has ended, and my trigger finger has gotten itchy again...

Took all of these Wednesday, and it had just begun to rain. For some reason I felt the need to photograph it on the windshield of the Mirthmobile with me in the rear-view. This is outside Winan's looking across Experiment Farm Rd. No, I have no idea where the name came from.

You'd think that in a small town, something that weird would have a good story or local legend around it, but no. We just act like we know the origin and correct those who accidentally call it Experimental Farm Road. It's like when you slip and say "Canadian Goose", and people get all know-it-all-y and say "No no no, you ignorant buffoon! It's a Canada Goose!", and you're all "Well, Hello Mr. Fancy Pants!"

... but I digress. Anyhoo:

Mirthmobile console. Not sure why I took this. I guess it just felt right at the time.
These were taken right outside of Mom's office where I was scanning the New Orleans negs. There were these huge weird bumpy clouds reflecting the setting sun. Strangely enough, I really thought these wouldn't turn out, as turned around to Mom after taking them and said that they didn't feel right. Funny how that works. :-)
Makes Troy look like the podunk town it is. :-)
If this were any other season, this would've been a rocking storm.
Driving home from Mom's office across the Market St. Bridge, I was struck by the sunset. I pulled over in the Senior Citizen's Center parking lot, grabbed my tripod, and ran up the levee by the stadium (behind me in the self-portrait) to grab a few good silhouettes of the courthouse dome and old power plant chimney. There was a small flock of birds circling the Courthouse dome, and I tried to capture them as much as I could.
I really like this one.
Ok, so even when it's out of focus and compositionally blah, I just can't help but post a new photo of myself. :-)
Birds again.
Again with the birds.

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Reflected in the Great Miami River.

Wednesday, December 28, 2005

It'll happen when you're least expecting it...

Had a very interesting last couple'a days. So... monday night I'm out running errands buying Armand some healing cortizone spray for a spot he (mercifully no longer) licked raw. I'm bored and don't want to go home just yet, so I stop by the L&V for a bottle of beer or two and a plate of stuffed portobellos. I figure, hey, it's monday night, place'll be empty, and I can eat, drink, and be on my way. When I get there, all the seats at the bar (to my surprise) are taken, so I sit at a table and order the drink and appetizer. I'm watching the other patrons, but my attention keeps getting drawn to this one lady in particular. She's extraordinarily animated when she talks, and everybody who walks by knows her, and she gives them all hugs. She kinda reminds me of Lucille Ball... delightfully insane, all spunky and cute with short curly red hair. Anyway, she goes to the bathroom, and when she comes back, stops at me and asks if she knows me, and then starts naming off a string of names that aren't me.

"Nick? Jim? Billy? Where do I know you from?"

We get to chitchatting, her name is Mona and she's 49, strikingly milf-y, and after about ten or so minutes (she's a very touchy-feely hands-on talker), she goes and sits back down next to her friend at the bar. She keeps looking back and talking to me, so I grab my plate and beer and sit down next to her. She introduces me to her friend who looks to be more about my age. She's sturdily built and an absolutely total knock-out named Franzi who's originally from Germany, and has the most adorable accent which comes across somewhat French at times. Anyway, to make a long story short (and against my original plans) I end up staying there and drinking a decent amount of beer, and the three of us clicked like the best of friends. I even take both Mona and Franzi out for a few dances. It was great.

They're regulars, and the guy who I guess is the second-in-command there comes over to talk. He's somewhere in his 20's, tall and skinny with straight shoulder-length hair, and super friendly. He tells us it's his birthday, and he's getting totally shit-faced (and pretty much already there). Anyway, I had been admiring the local photography for sale there on the walls, and asked how I might get a few of my own up there. He says to come by January 10 and bring my stuff. If they like it, they'll hang it.

Hell yeah!

Anyway, these drunk jackasses keep blatantly hitting on Franzi, and she wants to get something to eat (i.e. get the hell out of there), so we all pile into her SUV and go to Tim Horton's down the street. (Old school readers... remember my photos of Tim's from St. Patrick's day? It's the same one.) When she starts her car, this kick-ass techno music starts playing. I say "Now I know you're German! You guys invented techno." She smiles. Another great song starts, and I ask what CD it is. "Oh, eet's a meex of my own."

Inside, as we happily munch away on sandwiches and/or doughnuts (and where there isn't a jukebox to have to shout over), we compare war stories of our failed love lives (mine mercifully war-free, can't say that about theirs), and really just have what is nearly a group therapy session. It was wonderful. Franzi drops us off by our cars in front of L&V, and I tell Mona I had a hell of a good time hanging out with them, and would love to do it again. We exchange numbers and a goodnight kiss. More of a friendly than a romantic kiss, but it felt really good.

---

But it doesn't end there. So last night I meet Angela at L&V (aka "The Leaf" by regulars) for our weekly get-together. We're there for a good two hours, and after she leaves, I stay to finish my bottle and wait for the songs I picked on the jukebox to play. Wouldn't you know, but right after Angela leaves, I'm talking about a minute or so, who walks in but Franzi, who gives me a big smile and an enthusiastic hug, and sits at table. Right after, in walks Mona, who does the same. One of the staff there (who already know me and treat me like a regular), comes over and razzes me to them saying "This guy's a pimp! You're the second group of women he's been with!"

We sit and talk for probably over an hour and the tall skinny guy walks in. I still have my framed picture of Michelle and Daniels's little one in my car (which, note to self, I need to give to them). I bring it in and show him, and he says he definitely wants to see more of my work.

My ego inflates like a balloon.

I had to go, as I really hadn't been home in two days, since the night before I didn't come home from work and stayed out until 2am with Mona and Franzi. Tonight was shaping up to be the same, so I pardon myself from them, but not without inviting them to join me at the Hobart Arena friday night, as I'm going to go skating. Franzi says that she used to play hockey in Germany, but Mona says she's never gone skating. We tell her we'll teach her, but she seems hesitant. I'll have to call and bug her.

I can't believe I've made such good friends so quickly.

---

So today I drop my skates off at Hobart to have the blades ground, and run to the bookstore for a magazine and coffee. I pick up the latest "Shutterbug", and in each issue they have a reader-submitted photo section on a particular theme. The next theme is "Remembering New Orleans", and the deadline for submission (limit 3) is sometime next month. I go home and grab the negatives from my trip there, as I have only crappy scans of the photos, so I can scan them using mom's scanner at her office.

I head over to the arena for public skating, and ask if my skates are done. They aren't, so I rent a pair of hockey skates, which mercifully are more comfortable than the figure skates. Skating's only from 1 to 3 today, and it's already half-past, so I get about an hour and a half's worth of skating in, which is still ample time for me to build up one hell of a sweat, as well as a nice comforable burn in my thighs, calves, and butt.

I go to mom's and scan six negs, but single out the three wich are my favorites. At first I cropped the photos, but then had a second thought. The photos I took there aren't so much of the pretty buildings and horses and carriages and French Quarter stuff, but the texture of the city. The grit. The substance. The basic elements that comprise the molecular structure of an entire city's awesome personality. As such, I wanted to get a nice raw feeling, so I left the entire slightly off-kilter film frame the final versions. These I've already printed out, and am going to mail off to Shutterbug:









---

I doubt I'll make it, as I'm sure they're looking for pretty pre-Katrina pictures, but dammit, I'm gonna try, and we'll see in February. :-) Cross your fingers for me and don't let go till then, ok?

Sunday, December 25, 2005

Well... did Santa bring you guys everything your little hearts desired? I had a small but fruitful holiday bounty:

1) Non-stick griddle and one of those gihugeous round but paper thin nylon pancake turners. (really the only things I asked for this year... everything else I wanted was too high-dollar to ask for)
2) $75 gift certificate to BK Photo. (both 1 and 2 from Mom & Chuck)
3) $30 gift card to Click! Camera from Bro & Sis-in-law, a little book of Peanuts Christmas cartoons through the ages, plus a handful of rolls of film they won't use since switching to digital.
4) $50 from the grandparents. (Fifty dolla bill! Fifty dolla bill!)*
5) Book on Photoshop CS2 from Viv, plus a weather watchers calendar.
6) Two packs of HP Premium Plus 8 1/2 x 11 photo paper sheets. (from cousin Mike, at Lukens family Christmas Eve dinner and gift exchange)

All in all, pretty damn good. The best gift will be when I process my rolls of film and see if the trick of taping toilet paper over my flash (as suggested by Jeff, a pro photographer I work with at Lowe's) made my pictures look better.

---

Mom twisted my arm to go to church last night after the family get-together. While not at all opposed to the idea, and Ginghamsburg being a super-progressive church, I really am not 100% comfortable there. I dunno. Something just rubs me the wrong way about practicing and expressing something that I consider to be absolutely sacredly personal in view of a crowd like that.

There is a palpable power going on there, but it's the people. It's the strength and will of the congregants and administration, and you can feel it in the air like legions of fans all grooving on the same wavelength at a rock concert, but I didn't feel one teensy little bit of the supernatural presence that I did when watching and photographing that sunset at the Patterson Memorial. I left the church feeling every bit as empty as I did walking in, as opposed to when I do things like hiking around Charleston Falls on a bright fall day, and leaving with the feeling of being as fulfilled as if I just had fantastic sex. Call me crazy.

---

Speaking of, friday night I generated what is possibly the hottest story I've ever done, and I call Angela saturday to boast. Naturally, she trumps me with something ten times hotter than I could ever hope to experience.

Dammit, Angela! :-)

--

Am I the only one who nearly died laughing when, earlier this month, NPR did a legitimate and serious piece on "Radical Militant Librarians"? All I could picture was some Seinfeld-esque Library Nazi:

"No Books for you!!"

---

* 1000 bonus points to anybody who recognizes where that came from.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Balls of chocolate... or steel?

You want to know how to bring a smalltown Ohio bar to a dead standstill on karaoke night? Let all the drunk rednecks sing country song after country song after country song, and then submit and sing the following song:

Chef's "Chocolate Salty Balls"

Sweet Jesus, the looks on peoples' faces! I dearly wish I had a camera to capture all the dumstruck expressions, mouthes agape, when I kicked (with serious moxie) into the lines:
"Hey everybody have you seen by balls? They're big and salty and browwwwnnnn! If you ever need a quick pick-me-up, just put my balls in your mouth. Ooh, suck on my chocolate salty ball-all-alls! Just put'em in your mouth and suck'em!"


Lotta people weren't happy with me up there singing about my testicles. :-)

---

Got to chitchatting with a very lovely girl whose name, for the life of me, I can't recall. I can remember that she has a seven month old daughter named Vanessa, and that she works in Piqua as a nurse aide, and even where she's going to school. I just can't remember her freakin name. Kelly? No... shit. I have no idea. Great conversation, though. Very refreshing.

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

Much better mood...

Ok, so last weekend wasn't all bad. I did have a
fantastic time skating friday night, despite the rental
skates being the stuff nightmares are made of. Weaving in
and out of the ocean of teenage Lindsay Lohan wanna-be's, I
stopped next to one of the Skate Guards to catch my breath.
I mentioned to him, "God, I haven't been here in at least
ten years. The crowd certainly got younger!" He grinned.
"Hate to tell you dude, crowd's the same. You got old."
I did kinda feel like a perv skating about the rink packed
with little 15 and 16 year old barbie dolls. Oh well. I was
in my own little world flying across the ice. What a
euphoric sensation.

Afterward, and with feet freshly exfoliated (read:
blistered the fuck out of) by those infernal rentals,
I go to B-Dub's (Buffalo Wild Wings) and sit at the bar and
enjoy much beer and food I'd normally never touch, all
fried, while watching various sporting events on a ginormous
projection screen above the bar. Around midnight, I feel a
tap on my shoulder, and it's Angela! She's there with a
friend, and I go and sit with them. It felt good to finally
talk to somebody, despite the fact that I was already drunk
as fuck and babbling in a nonstop stream-of-consciousness.

(lemon juice on the paper cut: the next day, Jeremy told me
that at least six of his wife's single friends were at his
place and there and partying hard. I wanted to strangle him
for mentioning that.)

So we all know how Saturday went, but Sunday turned out to
be a not-so-bad day. I went out to run some errands in
Huber Heights, and to stop by MC Sporting Goods to price
lower-end hockey skates. Lo and Behold, there sat one
solitary box over by the skates, with a mysterious beam of
light from nowhere shining down in a sparkling golden glow
upon it. It's a gorgeous pair of Ontario hockey skates,
clearanced down to $22 from $70, the last pair left, and
in my size!


I swear I was only there to generate Christmas gift ideas,
but this was pure serendipity. This was no coincidence.
The Gods meant me to find these skates. I snatch them up
and drive down to downtown Dayton's Riverscape, as they have
a free skating rink there.

I don my new silver beauties and hit the postage stamp-sized
rink for their maiden voyage, admidst all the kids and their
parents. I had never skated outside before, and it was a
gorgeous day. Cloudy with a nice steady but light snow
flurry, and almost no wind. Smoke from the nearby firepit
mixed perfectly with the smell of the ice to make a heavenly
scent.

Despite the terribly choppy ice being in desperate need of a
good Zamboni-ing (as they do every two hours at Hobart
Arena), the Ontarios clung to it deftly and expertly.

I was meant to find these skates.

---

Which leads me to the reason I've come to theorize why this
weekend was actually the best weekend that could ever have
happend to me. Hear me out, this is funny...

Ok, so if I had gone to Jeremy's Christmas party, I would've
been attacked by all his wife's friends and wouldn't've gone
skating. Therefore I wouldn't've gotten re-hooked, sending
me on my quest for a comfortable pair of my own skates
instead of those sandpaper-lined rental torture devices.

Then, if Saturday night had panned out, since I was all
decked out in my new necklace that Michelle and Daniel
bought me and shirt picked up for the occasion, Sexy Amazon
Girl upon seeing me would've instantly left her Cute
Butt/Muscle Boy, and we'd've certainly spent all night and
into Sunday ravaging each other mercilessly.

Consequently, since I would be making mad monkey love well
past sunset, I wouldn't've gone and met my new skates. End
of story.

Well, since everybody tells me I'll find friends when I stop
looking for them, at Hobart I can guarantee you I'm not
there to meet anybody. I'm at least ten or eleven years
older than the oldest tight-clothed curvy little pop
princess there.

(BTW, where the fuck were these girls when I was 17??
Nobody looked that good back in 1995!)

So, as the reasoning goes, I'll be out there minding my own
business off in la-la land, when in will stroll a wayward
class of ten massage students from Sweden, all between the
ages of 18 and 45 and named Inga and Greta. Five Ingas,
five Gretas. Yeah. No! Wait, there's twelve... trailing
behind with muscles like Nick Lachey are Bjorn and Sven. ;-)
Anyway, they'll see me out there all by me onesy, and
they'll all say "Wow, look at that man out there all by his
onesy. He's so strong willed and independant to skate
without people to cling to, and so flowingly graceful, but
he looks lonely. Let's invite him back to our hotel rooms
to practice our massage skills on!"

And so I'll go, all aghast and flummoxed that I was invited
anywhere. Because, of course, I wasn't expecting to meet
anybody there at the Hobart Arena. They spend all night and
into the next day doing things that would make a porn star
blush all while singing with angelic voices and feeding me
grapes.

See? If last weekend happened as planned, that would never
happen. But now it just may. :-)

---

Either that, or some hockey father will catch me checking
out his little barbie doll daughter's backside and kick the
crap out of me in the parking lot.

---

Caro sent me this. Took about ten seconds of looking at it
quizzically before the onset of maniacal cackling:

Sunday, December 18, 2005

This does have a confidant outcome, bear with me...

You know what? Fuck those motherfuckers I work with! I show up in the parking lot at 10pm on the nose, wearing the shirt I bought specifically for this occasion, only to run into two other people who just got off shift and have them tell me that they changed their minds at the last minute. (sound familiar?) I was told that they went to BW3's instead. So I go there and look all around the whole goddamned restaurant and bar area and nobody's there. So I spend the next half an hour driving back and forth between Bee-dub's and Lowes' parking lot looking for the crowd that was supposed to go out tonight.

An entire crowd doesn't just vanish, and obviously, everybody else knew where to go except for me. Fuck them all, I hope they rot in Hell. I'm glad my contract is up in two weeks so I don't have to be around any of those back stabbers for much longer. The could've at least shot me point blank in the heart and told me to fuck off instead of stabbing me in the back and ditching me like this.

So, all dejected and feeling like maybe I am some kind of creep that people can't stand to be around, I go to D's where I know nobody will be (like last week), and I can get trashed in quiet solitary peace without the hassle of having to deal with any other motherfucking humans. I down a pitcher of beer and order a small pizza with mushrooms and black and green olives, which a bartender extraordinare and very nice and pretty girl I went to high school with elevated to the point of culinary sculpture. What a beautiful pizza it was.

To make a long story short, I'm all depressed watching muted football until some goddamned bastard goes to the jukebox and selects a masterful sequence of catchy tunes. Seriously, this guy should be a DJ. I start moving in my seat, and contrary to my mood, start singing along to a few songs. Then, I hear the greatest song ever concieved and composed by the mind of man, equalling or maybe even surpassing the masterpieces of Beethoven and Dvorak:

Prince's "Sexy Motherfucker"

Sitting alone at the bar, I laugh my ass off outloud through the entire song, it's so perfect. "Shake that ass! Shake that ass! Shake that ass, you sexy motherfucker!"

Long story short, I am instantly elevated to a fantastic mood upon hearing this song, and eat my pizza and get stupidly drunk all with a grin on my face. They even sell bottles to go, so I pick up four bottles which I am in the process of consuming now as I type this here in the safety of my room.

Jackasses at work don't know what they're missing in me. Fuck them! I'm capable of having one helluva party all by me onesy, greater than if I were in the thick of a drunken orgy of Norwegian lesbians. They're all missing out on me. I am a force to be reckoned with!

Fuckers. Motherfuckers! I absolutely pity them for having to spend a night out without me. I so totally rock, it hurts. :-)

---

Addendum:

Ok, it's a mercifully hangover free sunday morning now, thanks to those Chaser pills that I bought. Best $6 I've ever spent, because under normal circumstances, I'd be hating life right about now.

Anyway, there's something that I've been waffling over whether or not to write about, being so personal as to be almost sacred. A dear friend of the family passed away friday morning, and I'll write a more fitting tribute after the funeral tuesday. Last night, though, I took a moment to raise a glass and silently toast his memory.

Friday, December 16, 2005

Somebody hand me the first aid ointment, because the UPS Store just ASS RAPED me on shipping.

It was worth it, though. :-)

---

I was out behind the store assembling snowthrowers yesterday. It started snowing the night befpre and kept up until late last afternoon. The temperature was just above freezing, and the air was heavy, humid, and absolutely still. The flakes fell straight down in large damp clusters. We had just gotten in a shipment of six Troy-Bilts off the delivery truck, and already the customers were standing around waiting for me to finish assembling and inspecting them. The air was so dense that although I was trudging through slush, and the snow collected in a beadwork of melted droplets in my hair, I unzipped my coat while steam rose off my gloves.

Taking a breather to cool off a bit from hammering my crowbar to wedge the wooden shipping crates apart, I stood perfectly still and listened as the heavy flake clumps hit the ground in a whisper-soft yet discernably audible pitter patter. I can't recall if I've ever listened to it snow before, but it's absolutely haunting, yet calm and inviting at the same time... beckoning me to recline in a drift and let the snow immerse me. Just lay back and fall asleep in the snow.

I closed my eyes and listened for a while, until an echoing forklift horn inside broke my reverie. I almost had to force myself to shatter the silence with the sharp strikes of my hammer to crowbar, and the painful moan of nails being ripped from the wood. I gave a silent apology for my obnoxious interruption, and a thank you for the moment.

Not sure to whom... just thanks.

---

A guy at work invited me yesterday to a Christmas party he and his wife were throwing tonight. Problem: he didn't tell me where he lives... I just know he lives in Pleasant Hill. Goof ball. Driving home, I passed the Hobart Arena, and read where the sign said "Public Skating Fri Sat 8pm". You know what? I haven't been ice skating in years. God, that sounds fun, I'm going to go! What a perfect prelude to going and getting a few glasses of beer somewhere afterwards.

This is shaping up to be a perfectly pleasant evening. :-)

Friday, December 09, 2005

These are some of the photos I took of the tree lighting ceremony on Courthouse Square in downtown Dayton two or so weeks ago. I say 'some of', because it is plainly obvious I have no idea how to take good photos at night, and there are many crappy blurry ones I've left out.
Courthouse Square, Dayton.
[patting self on back] :-)
Courthouse Square, Dayton.
Courthouse Square, Dayton.
Courthouse Square, Dayton.
Although I took several, this is the only good one of the Danny Voris Project that I got... because stalker shots rarely turn out well. Anyways, that's (of course) Stephanie, and Danny in the Santa hat.
Wide shot from a stairwell.
Although it doesn't make for a particularly interesting shot, I like the conflict this creates. What is the main point of this photo... the ice sculpture, or the photographer whose main focus is the sculpture, thus making it only an indirect secondary in this...
I think the effect gets kind of lost in this one. I was trying to have the foreground lights in focus, and the background one big mess of out of focus light, but the forward tree branches and lights are so sparse compared to the dense main tree in the back, I think they get lost.
Warehouse across the street from my old apartment. I had chased down a beautifully pastel pink and purple sunset, only to miss it by the time I got my camera set up, but fortunately the moon was just rising in teh dusk, so I thought I'd take a few shots.
Ooh. Artsy.
I had to capture this on film, which unfortunately doesn't do this horrible paint job justice. Look how splotchy and mis-matched the different shades are! Yikes!

Saturday, December 03, 2005

About my planned visit...

... out to Texas Gurl. It had to be postponed. Not cancelled, just rainchecked. We decided that it was mutually financially infeasible to happen in just two weeks. Yeah, I'm bummed that I'm not getting to see her sooner, but it'll happen come hell or high water.

Overall, this is a good thing. I was stressing pretty hard over how I was going to pay my bills, pay for a $300 plane ticket and travel costs, and have anything left over for Christmas. That, and now I'm staying on at work until the contract is up and I'm laid off, so I can collect unemployment.

In the long run, this is a prudent and wise move. In the short term, though, it sucks big time. :-(

Friday, December 02, 2005

I’m sorry for neglecting you guys lately. The acclimation to single life has been far less smooth than I’d previously imagined. Things have been going on, I just have lost that urge to write them down. I haven’t taken a single photo in over a week. I’m just feeling tremendously overwhelmed by this sudden unrestricted access to an unimagineably huge world.

But! But, but, but… lest this be a downer of a post, I have good news. I think I’m finally rising up out of this funk and beginning to comprehend the scope of the situation. The lows aren't nearly as bad as they used to be, and the highs are soaring to sweeter heights than ever before. Things are looking up, don't you worry.

---

I have discovered the perfect meal. From Ruby Tuesday last week to lunch with Michelle at a sports bar called Bullies this week, I have concluded that I could subsist on daily rations of a nice chef salad with extra ham and turkey (easy on the cheese), and a nice tall glass of beer. Heaven.

---

Got a letter from Sallie Mae informing me that my student loan application was denied.

bitch.

---

Met up last night at Avalanche with Angela. I was beat to death by work, and after two pitchers between us I was ready to zonk, so the evening ended at 11:30. We had a great conversation, though. I miss just talking to her. As avalanche gets more and more popular as a quiet little spot, the less quiet gets. Of late, it’s been harder and harder to sit and talk. Last night was a rare and welcome exception.

--

Bought two CDs. At CD Connection, when I walked in, the dude said “Sorry man, I’m done buying for the day.” You know it’s sad when they know you that way. Recalling Wayne’s World, I replied “I’m feeling saucy. I think I'll buy something!”

Since they were both used and $5.99 apiece (I was only going to buy one new CD), I picked up two of Morcheeba’s disks. I think I like them just about as much as I do Zero 7. They’re a bit funkier and jazzier, but with the same laid-back chillout backbone. I think I’m in love! Totally going to look for more of their stuff.

---

The Danny Voris Project is playing at my old stomping ground, the Trolley Stop. (remember my posts about going there a few times last winter?) Going to go watch Stephanie perform. Oh, yeah, and the other guys in the band too. I have made a promise to myself to speak to at least one person while I'm there. No chickening out. I bitch about being just a spectator and never participating, but then what do I do? I stand there and watch without trying to join in.

It's like the email that went around a few years ago, where Aaron prays night after night after night "God, please let me win the lottery so I may feed my family." For months his prayers go unanswered, until God finally speaks to him.

"Aaron, first you have to buy a ticket."

I'm gonna buy my ticket tonight. It may not win... I may not have a single decent conversation, but then again, I may just hit the jackpot and spend all night in rapt conversation with people.

I'm going to take a short nap now, but in a few hours, I'll rise, get ready, and head out In Search of That Rarest of Treasures.

---

I have a new roll of film to post later, and I'll get a cast page worked out too.