2 posts tagged “photowalk”
There's a shot I didn't post from yesterday's Olvera Street Photowalk. I made several attempts at the picture but with my point and shoot camera and novice skills, it was unphotographable. I stood in the middle of the street, alone, looking towards downtown. It was a gray day. Trying desperately to peek through the hazy skies was the sun. No one else seemed to notice. Where crowds had gathered to watch street magicians or dance to the tunes of one man bands or listen to the Spanish singer who dominated the central courtyard of the birthplace of Los Angeles or pray at the altar in the mission, it was me and my own private sunshine.
It wasn't an uncommon experience on the day. I was excited about the photowalk all week. I'd meet some new folks, do something I don't consider myself very good at, learn a thing or two, and enjoy a part of the city I am very rarely in. Except that once I was there, I found myself tugged away from the group. I followed sounds instead of sights. Children giggling. Delighted applause. Shuffling feet. Sobbing. Anger. Singing. Water gurgling. Dragged luggage.
I misplaced the other photowalkers but never felt lost. Stories began to unwrap themselves from my head and wrap around the scenes I was taking in: The Tale of the Homeless Dancers; The Baptism That Wasn't; The Road to Nowhere; The 31st Avian Brigade; My Father, The Statue.
And, I imagine, the sun watched me from the safety of the cloud cover and tall buildings, enveloping me in a story all its own.
Hello, Sunshine.
It wasn't an uncommon experience on the day. I was excited about the photowalk all week. I'd meet some new folks, do something I don't consider myself very good at, learn a thing or two, and enjoy a part of the city I am very rarely in. Except that once I was there, I found myself tugged away from the group. I followed sounds instead of sights. Children giggling. Delighted applause. Shuffling feet. Sobbing. Anger. Singing. Water gurgling. Dragged luggage.
I misplaced the other photowalkers but never felt lost. Stories began to unwrap themselves from my head and wrap around the scenes I was taking in: The Tale of the Homeless Dancers; The Baptism That Wasn't; The Road to Nowhere; The 31st Avian Brigade; My Father, The Statue.
And, I imagine, the sun watched me from the safety of the cloud cover and tall buildings, enveloping me in a story all its own.
Hello, Sunshine.
- C'Mon Baby - "Light My Fire" Sample, The 37th Chamber, 10.29.07The song can be found on YHU’s penultimate LP Just A Melody, one of the only albums from their discography that has never been granted the reissue treatment. This is a real shame, because the album is a wonderful collection of songs permeated by the group’s funky, upbeat audio aesthetic, a quality aptly demonstrated by the ‘Light My Fire’ cover.
I'm trying to light a fire under my own butt. I've never been good at discipline. Self-discipline, to be exact. I have little problem, most of the time, doing the yeoman's work for others but, generally, I don't do a good job of taking care of myself. I'm awfully round these days. I'm a lazy git at home. I've had increasingly hermit-like tendencies. I'm not writing.
These are all related.
I don't like it.
So this weekend has been about catching a blaze. It took me all day yesterday but I cleaned my place. This morning I worked out (it's the return of Hip Hop Abs, y'all), had my vitamins and some Airborne. I'm back on the "eating right" thing. I'm going to accomplish what I set to accomplish for myself today - a car wash, an IKEA run, the photowalk - and, if I do, I'll treat myself to a movie tonight.
Then, if I'm for real, I'll wake up tomorrow and do it all again.
Am I for real?
