…And Then There Was More. Of the same. “Did I write that?”
Posted March 14th 2007
Frakking Computer!
Current mood: enraged
Bane of my existence.
I know, I rarely blog, bowen usually has already let everyone know what’s going on and I seriously dislike being redundant.
but this cannot be contained…
…after today’s photoshoot, (which went very well and I am quite pleased with, thanks Mischievous!) our hard drive that is external to the machine decided today was a good day to attempt to eat shit.
no word yet on the actual prognosis, other than thank god the master of the most recent remix is on another PC.
photos from October 2006 through Jan 1 2007 and Bowen’s entire DJ catalog and the music he had made in the last year, among other “really important shit” still up for grabs.
JMFHC!!!!!
Two weeks till we leave for Chicago, and only a month before our lease is up.
something must be killed to abate my current mood.
anyone have a 250gig iomega external hard drive, firewire cage and a clean room to perform major PC surgery in, cost and payment to be arranged?
going to go shoot myself in the head so I don’t have to think about this anymore.
Posted January 10th 2007
Photography Workshop with David Lawerence
This is a full week-end workshop that will cover many aspects of photography. It will begin on Friday evening and continue through Sunday night. In total there will be more than 24 hours of knowledge sharing in this dynamic workshop presented by one of the most renowned fetish photographers.
Areas to be covered are studio lighting with a concentration on the classical portrait styles. David will also cover headshot, glamour and fashion lighting styles during the studio lighting segment. The two methods discussed and demonstrated will be low and high key studio lighting. The final area of lighting in the studio segment will be the female nude as related to art, fetish and fetish fashion.
Location photography will be discussed in depth and then the workshop will go on the road to a predetermined location to enable all participants to obtain hands on experience of how David works with location challenges. The locations will include daytime and night photography segments. David’s mastery over location photography has been accomplished over 30 years of shooting on location with brides, fashion, editorial, corporate, fetish and portrait photography. There will be a concentration on lighting and use of environment to enhance your subject/images.
There will be discussions throughout the workshop that cover a myriad of topics such as composition, distortion & perspective, film v. digital, communication skills for the photographer, lens selection, thinking outside the box, breaking the rules, creating impact with images and more.
Don’t miss out on this opportunity. Register today and participate in a workshop that will make a difference in your grasp of photography, whether you are a professional or amateur. The workshop is limited to 30 persons.
Friday – 2-16-07 – Meet & Greet 7:30 – 9:30
Saturday – 2-17-07 — Studio Lighting and Night Photography – 9am to 9 pm
Sunday — 2-18-07 – Location Photography and Female Nude – 9am to 6 pm
Workshop costs – $400 To reserve your space send an email to –
davidlawerence@shibariartphotography.com
He will provide you with a mailing address where payment can be sent.
David’s work and bio can be seen at www.shibariartphotography.com
Los Angeles contact is CharlyB (562) 746-2896 or charly@charly-b.com
[if it weren't for being so broke, we would definitely be there.]
Posted December 10th 2006
“Is what it is is, is like f**k!
Current mood: sore
Long long day has finally passed. Never enough time this time of year. The air is verdant, wet with rain finally, the smell of mulling spices haunting me, and in every corner, on every screen, amidst the aisles of excess-the sound of spending, sung by Bing Crosby.
Like alarms that go off in the event of an airstrike, I run from the shrill demands of corporate monopoly, cringing everytime I hear there are more chestnuts roasting on an open fire.
The wonder and thrill of childhood, and half-eaten cookies long gone, replaced by a sickness, a lingering clinging heaviness…like layaway, that long into the new resolutions of living freely the bonds will still have hold of my will, my money: the payments on the things my child demands costing much more than the initial purchase price.
I look forward to my birthday with both anticipation and trepidation, an innate fear of being ignored again, so constant has the chime, “when is your birthday again? It’s in december isn’t it?” rang true for me, and hope that this time, both Jesus and Pere Noel will clear a place for me to stand.
I wish a multitude of peace and understanding on the masses, my pitiful attempts to change the world with kindness, killing it softly, so I don’t have to watch.
I would be that me all the year through, though no one would praise me unless the memory of snow seemed imminent, and the air had crisped to a bump raised among the millions, every follicle blown over by the breath of shorter days and longer nights.
I will fill the stockings, arm the dying tree, hide the boxes and the plastic as long as I can, knowing it will only last until the dumpster smiles upon it in gleeful acceptance. I will shoo the cats as the troop of them seek to undermine every beautification process I attempt.
If not to eat the ornament, to rip the paper, remove the bow, shred the garland, chew the cards, and break the meager decor I have collected since my inception.
Each little bauble, meaning a year, a birthday, a present…the only ones remembered clearly the cameras I have used to capture these days again and again.
My cats have all arrived on their terms, my son more mystified by the act of giving than recieving. My husband, eyes ever bigger than his stomach, wants.
I wish only for more time, to be my business, to grok my love, to revel in my friends.
A lifetime of time to clean and savour every moment that was never tied to disappointment, and be a babe, again once more, manic till the deadline passes, now I lapse the waking hour, content to wait till the tea is stupid and the smoke has cleared my fog away before revealing careful plots to joyful abandon.
When all is over, and the storm has passed, the year is not the same, the name has changed, the six alighted, seven reigns…I’ll find the homes for new belongings, mourn the loss of time and space again, and try to slow this passage so the next one creeps along till I can stand to hear the promise of the season before giving my thanks to the universe.
My birthday, Christmas day.
Posted October 14th 2006
misconceptions
Current mood: loved
The imperfection of you is reflected in me,
and while you lived, vicarious, through me
thinking a similarity implied itself-
the mirror does not often see clearly.
Your love…hopes and dreams
were always every only- singularly yours,
and in living, breathing, striving-
boundaries emerge from trial and error.
No one is perfect except perfectly flawed.
Each unwelcome unwanted piece of self
denied accepted wanted
not yours to choose for me – for anyone – yourself.
Insubstantially included in this subterfuge,
equation theorized wandering if
If something could have played out
differently, metamorphasized quietly
into the waiting arms of desire for more.
I have looked upon myself and been alone
seeing past my self to the unchartered unknown.
I never saw the mirror you looked on except with
disdain, for fear irrational of becoming less:
than myself, for I was never you
of you…irrefutible but not you.
The world changed like melting ice caps
carving meticulous silent pathways
charting flow and velocity of matter
matter not
in it’s course, rarely affected, altered.
I could not have chosen this but
was given route by flux.
Your voice, your generation, your age’s respect,
my youth, my debt, my dilemma
thrust by booms or better offs,
with indecisive culpability for all ignored
unknown reactions and causality.
Lazy, ineffectual, depressed, angst,
uneducated, selfish, materialistic,
no ritual, no family values, no honor,
respect, duty or obligation.
Resultant intellect can stifle
on our rising global temperate-tures
our fading ozone shield.
Idyllic, idealistic, determined no longer.
I feel to feel, to remember to exist at all,
for helplessness, fear and greed have overcome
our senses, the collective unconscious-
begins to see nothing
but green rising upward, drilling down, choking the air,
the will to breathe.
Cater to the lowest common denominator;
ease of use, time saver, convenience, complicate,
accuse, defer, abuse, blame, allocate, downsize,
accost, misunderstand, ignored, uninformed,
deceived, agendized, controlled, manipulated.
Our world this day: waiting fervently for the
polar shift to wipe the slate clear.
The world I live in, the product of
schedule, demand, deficit.
I, held accountable. Being fed poison
from boxes of light, waves of information, polled for value,
can’t be anyone but me but can’t be helped.
The plight of man is a disease the pharmeceutical company
doesn’t want you to know there’s a cure for.
It costs them profit. Margin. So who needs a rain forest?
If my yacht isn’t big enough I think
I will buy a conglomerate
and take over a third world country
and if anyone asks what I am doing
I’ll just tell them THEY told me to do it.
I may appear less than happy, pleased with myself,
a wandering soul searching for repose,
a buddha without a belly,
but this conflict lies not in my belief-
or my worth, but in one small voice,
being smothered by a billion advertisements,
for a “better” me.
Always was beautiful, always was intelligent.
Always was my downfall…
this awareness of this place that I inhabit
filled to overflowing with myself
yet no one to talk to, no one with answers I can use.
My future static, white noise in a
dim of placating emission and exhaust.
You did just fine by me, assuredly.
Example of, declined to be and wants to emulate.
These days it does not matter
I sound like you…
it’s merely a transmission,
not the content.
So torn apart,
united finally.
Without you, I am you.
The question being whether
either of us exists at all,
nothing but glass?
Note: edited for spelling error and punctuation two days after initial writing.
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