Looking Out

In "A Man Without a Country" Kurt Vonnegut describes a day of physical transactions: buying a manila envelope from a general store, going to the post office to purchase stamps, dropping off an item in the mailbox, and so on. He chit chats with the people at the counter and listens to conversations spoken in a different language while he stands in line. He then returns home pleased because he's "had one hell of a good time." It's the human interactions and experiencing the world through all five senses that is invigorating to him, that enables him to feel part of a community. When I have a day of simple errand running, as in I am actually out and about interacting with human beings, I can't help but think of this narrative and how similar it is to how I feel upon my arrival home.

Rainbow at the End of the Day (didn't really happen today, but it felt like this was guiding me home)

Today was no exception. I had fun. I felt connected to everyone, even the douchebag behind the meat counter at the grocery store. I traveled from one part of town to the next, in no particular hurry and in no particular order. Cup of coffee, button-down shirt, cheese and capers, kitchenware, herbs. It was through this network of physical transactions for products that I formed my day's narrative, one which included vibrant smells, tastes, touches, sights, and sounds that were all my own as well as those who were near me. I could have kissed every single person I saw today, even the jerk-hole who gave me smug advice on hamburger meat.

Tonight I'm eating ice cream against my will and it's all Apple's fault. Because today I discovered that Apple doesn't really love me. I had thought we had a good thing going. I had thought Apple was looking out for me and my best interests. I had thought Apple cared about me. Sadly, I'm just another number, one tiny notch among millions on the ol' iHeadboard. And the worst of it all? I'm still in love. I'm actually hoping Apple takes me back once I get my shit pulled together. Does my hair look okay?

Sadness - taken with my iPhone

In high school, one of the first photo assignments my teacher issued was to photograph "tilted horizons." Naturally, all the students came back with landscapes demonstrating (ahem) a tilted horizon. There was nothing to it. Find a straight horizon line and just tilt the camera and presto, gimme an A! I think I did get an A. Reflecting back on this, I believe the lesson was meant to inspire us teenagers to think differently about how we look at the world and to be creative in how we capture it. However, there should have been a memo given to us in tandem with our graded portfolio: tilted horizons don't equal a good photograph. Okay, maybe I was the only one who needed that, because after the initial assignment, I essentially tilted every horizon I encountered, no matter what was in it.

I'll tilt your car

Storm Sets In

For the record: On Friday, September 2, I didn't drown or get struck by lightning or drown because I was in a boat that was struck by lightning. Did I truly believe that one of those options could have been my fate? Yes, yes I did. Was danger really lurking in my neighborhood kicking over trashcans and this time it's not the racoons? Oh, he was thumping on my door with a baseball bat. I mean it. Surprisingly, I didn't turn off the lights and lay in a fetal position underneath my bed, praying for him to go away—I invited him in and remained remarkably cool even after danger decided to play Russian Roulette with my friends and me.

Chris

I took the picture shown above a long time ago. It had been one of my favorite pictures, despite the obvious technical immaturity it displays: washed out highlights, tilted horizon for no good reason, softer than desired focus. I can pick this image apart in so many ways and never feel happy about it again. I can easily forget how I originally felt when it first popped out, demanding to be recognized for its muted worth, on my contact sheet. I was elated to discover the perfect shot, the one that silently spoke in a celebrated arrangement of hues, light, and tone. The one that made me equally smile and sadden—a moment past, lost, yet saved and resurrected for all to see. It just is. Was.