The Runcible Blog

My clock radio says 10:28, but my computer tells me it's 9:28!

I feel betrayed.

I just finished watching Brazil, the perfect movie to see just before bed. I can't wait for the surreal dreams...

In other news, I think I'm burning out faster than a...a, ... well, really fast. That's how bad it's gotten. I need someone to take me on a vacation...

Last night I dreamt I was running the second leg of a 4x400 relay. I remember feeling strong, though a little winded. I had a long stride, but I couldn't turn my legs over as fast as I wanted. I finished in about 59 seconds — not great, but faster than I have ever run in real life.

The odd thing (besides waking up breathing as if I were running) was the feeling I got when I came down the home stretch. I felt the loss of Coach O when I noticed that he wasn't at the finish with a stopwatch, even though he had been when I started my leg of the relay. The loss hit me like a headwind.

I walk to the store.
toilet paper, spaghetti o's, paper towels, a rice noodle bowl.
I walk home on street-lit cobblestones
while the bag rustles, still, my keys echo in October air
breathing faster – a plane overhead

The oil in my bowl
like drops of blood
is not
a placid heart that floats on salted water.

Somewhere a girl slowly kills herself.
sitting in my chair, I sip the noodles.
nose runs,
eyes drip
from the steam

I was in the process of writing a heartfelt blog post about how I lost one of my CompactFlash cards, and I've been retracing my steps and looking everywhere for the past 30 minutes, at least. I was flabbergasted at the thought of losing one of my two cards; incredulous that it could even be possible.

But then I looked over and picked up the mouse. There it was. Hiding under a mouse. How cute...

It reminds me of an incident years ago when I lost a little jewelry box that I used to play with (don't ask: I was an imaginative kid and made imaginary stuff out of such things). I couldn't find it for the longest time, but finally one day while looking for something else, I found the box in a very obvious place in my room. Out of anger at myself for being so stupid that I couldn't find it sooner, I threw the box, and it broke in half against the wall. What a strange concoction of emotions.

It's a good thing I found the card because otherwise I wouldn't have this picture of Pavel doing a Russian dance:

I'll put the rest on Tabblo soon...

I just bought 3 books to satisfy 3 different curiosities:

• Cat's Cradle — based on a recommendation.
• Zen Poetry — because I like poetry that is short and to the point.
• Thin — because I had no idea.

I've just been looking over some old entries, and I just noticed how angsty I can be. Well, I didn't just notice that.

I don't think I could've imagined keeping a blog for 4 years, but there it is. Although there are probably some entries I wouldn't want to find in the wayback machine, it's not as if I'm going to run for president some day...

The point of tonight's emo-post is to recognize that I think my eagerness for following new possibilities may have completely curbed a new friendship (or more) before it had a chance to develop. Despite my best effort to squelch my enthusiasm, the good advice of a fortune I got the other day: "patience is the key to joy", and a reminder to myself to avoid messing things up, I've smothered my new friend in less than a week. It's a shame, and I'm either a fool or a hopeless romantic.

I also ask myself why I'm attracted to people who can't be or aren't emotionally available. Why does my interest build as her interest wanes? It's crazy.

I don't know what will happen, or if my smothering hasn't been as fatal as I imagine. But I'm in a spot where I'm not sure what exactly went wrong, or how to avoid it in the future. I need to deconstruct.

This game is too difficult for me. Never mind all those role-playing or first-person shoot-em-up games...

Man, I could really use a jelly donut right now. It's been a while...

The operative quote from yesterday:

Old habits die hard.

I'm not dead yet.

I bought Nudes: Developing Style in Creative Photography, a remainder from that book store in Harvard Square (not that one -- the other one). It bills itself as part fine art book and part creative technique book. It seemed intriguing when I flipped through it, but after digging deeper, I'm a little disappointed.

Most of the photos are figure studies of professional models or elaborately set-up shots illustrating an eccentric concept. Commentary by each artist (there are 21 different photographers featured) accompanies the photographs. They explain the technique used and offer tips (like using nifty props to snazz up a boring picture). I won't knock what is in the book — the text is informative without being too pretentious, and the reproductions are pretty good. But I feel like the author/editor missed a whole category of nude photography: the nude portrait as character study.

Well, I don't know what the artists might call the category, but I think one can use nude photography as another form of portrait. If a portrait can reveal something deep about the subject, then so can a nude photo; maybe more so. Stripped of their familiar clothes, people react differently to the camera's gaze. That reaction alone could be photo worthy; is the subject timid or bold? How does the subject handle himself/herself? The intriguing part is when we start to delve into identity issues and self-perception. Those areas interest me more than a well-lit macro shot of a perfect rear end.

The other sub-category of nude photography that I think people overlook is the illustrative nude. David Penprase, featured in the book, comes close to this category, but I feel like his photos don't really illustrate anything more than his hyper attention to detail in setting up the shot. I don't know. I've tried to show something substantive when I've done some self portraits, and I hope that the nudity isn't overt or unnatural. I mean, I think that clothes can be distracting if I'm trying to make some point about isolation or the human relationship to nature. In those cases, the photograph isn't about a nude person; it's about something more important but features nudity as a device to further the point.

So, I would've liked to have seen more adventurous nudes in the book than the faceless, featureless models on many of the pages. Sure, texture, form, lines, and light quality will always be topics that photographers explore using nude models. But I think the genre can be much more intellectually or sociologically fulfilling if photographers take the nude a little bit further than showing the bare skin.

I am just a new boy,
Stranger in this town.
Where are all the good times?
Who's gonna show this stranger around?

I just got back from my first drum and bass night with Eddie and Pavel. I have to admit it was fun. I'll have pictures soon, but first, sleep. Why is typing so difficult right now? hmmm... whatever.

good night!

Update: Here's the tabblo of my experience.

As I was sitting here waiting for the next thing to happen, I realized that tonight would have been our 19 month anniversary if lee lee and I were still together. It may seem weird to anyone else, but I think we "celebrated" just about every month on the 5th. It was mainly my idea, but I'm not sure why. I could say that I'm sentimental, but judging by the gifts we gave each other, lee lee beat me in the thoughtfulness department by a large margin every time. Maybe I always understood the profound effect March 5th, 2005 has had on my life.

Last month, lee lee was at first reluctant to do anything on the 5th. She said she didn't know what we were celebrating at that point. I suggested we celebrate knowing each other for 18 months, and that seemed to be acceptable. We ate at Bertucci's and exchanged cards (and plants). It was a lovely night. But, oddly enough, I said it'd be the last monthly anniversary we should celebrate. I figured 18 months is a nice round number, and from then on we could just count the years. lee lee was surprised at my change of position and suggested that maybe we could still celebrate some of the monthly anniversaries. Oh, well...

I took some pictures when we got home — we liked the light coming through the windows that night. I suppose I can't show all of them, but they are some of my more abstract portraits of lee lee, and I really like them. Sadly, they'd be some of my last pictures of lee lee. I noticed the other day that I have 3,000 pictures of her (most of them are just candid daily life shots; no special occasion), or about a third of all of the pictures I've taken with this camera. Isn't that odd? And as a digital packrat, what am I to do with them now? They represent my creative obsession with her and my never-ending enthusiasm for photographing the same face, gestures, and situations over the course of our relationship. I never tired of photographing her, and she rarely stopped me (unless she was being serious in the dozens of pictures where she's flipping me the bird for taking a picture at an inappropriate time... but I doubt it).

Maybe I'll just stuff them away and look back on them someday when the scabs are gone and the scar has faded. But with my visual memory, that may not be possible.

 

As I was sitting here waiting for the next thing to happen, I realized that tonight would have been our 19 month anniversary if lee lee and I were still together. It may seem weird to anyone else, but I think we "celebrated" just about every month on the 5th. It was mainly my idea, but I'm not sure why. I could say that I'm sentimental, but judging by the gifts we gave each other, lee lee beat me in the thoughtfulness department by a large margin every time. Maybe I always understood the profound effect March 5th, 2005 has had on my life.

Last month, lee lee was at first reluctant to do anything on the 5th. She said she didn't know what we were celebrating at that point. I suggested we celebrate knowing each other for 18 months, and that seemed to be acceptable. We ate at Bertucci's and exchanged cards (and plants). It was a lovely night. But, oddly enough, I said it'd be the last monthly anniversary we should celebrate. I figured 18 months is a nice round number, and from then on we could just count the years. lee lee was surprised at my change of position and suggested that maybe we could still celebrate some of the monthly anniversaries. Oh, well...

I took some pictures when we got home — we liked the light coming through the windows that night. I suppose I can't show all of them, but they are some of my more abstract portraits of lee lee, and I really like them. Sadly, they'd be some of my last pictures of lee lee. I noticed the other day that I have 3,000 pictures of her (most of them are just candid daily life shots; no special occasion), or about a third of all of the pictures I've taken with this camera. Isn't that odd? And as a digital packrat, what am I to do with them now? They represent my creative obsession with her and my never-ending enthusiasm for photographing the same face, gestures, and situations over the course of our relationship. I never tired of photographing her, and she rarely stopped me (unless she was being serious in the dozens of pictures where she's flipping me the bird for taking a picture at an inappropriate time... but I doubt it).

Maybe I'll just stuff them away and look back on them someday when the scabs are gone and the scar has faded. But with my visual memory, that may not be possible.

 

Last night I mentioned to my broham and sojo that I was secretly hoping to be mugged the other night on my walk home. I said that I wanted to know if my will for self-preservation outweighed whatever petty motive a thief could have for trying to rob me. I postulated that self-preservation would probably win the day, all other things being equal.

I remember strolling down the street at nearly 3 in the morning, with eyes scanning the empty streets. I expected someone to pop out of the bushes and demand my camera and my grandfather's cheap gilded watch. What would I do? I'm not sure. I'd probably say "No." and glare at the person. If he (because women don't rob people, right?) advanced toward me, then what? I don't know. I played the scene out in my mind as I enjoyed the Boston skyline. Nate relayed his experience of having to confront and contain a would-be home invader at a friend's house in New York. It seemed like an awkward and confusing situation.

But I think the situation I was waiting for was the direct confrontation — give up my stuff or face a conflict. I know the buddhist in me would say, well, what use are material possessions? Just give them up. This time, though, I don't think I would've relented. I'm not saying it'd be wise or advisable, but why let someone take something without a fight? After all, as someone smart once said, "Most demons only understand demons."

Regardless, fighting someone over a camera or money still seems like a pointless endeavor. I could imagine a different scenario where a companion of mine were instead attacked by ominous figures lurking in the bushes. What would I do, then? I think the will for preservation would be much stronger in that case because it'd be for my companion's benefit rather than mine. Oh, robbers, you'll rue the day you meet a companion and me in a darkened alley!

In the end, none of that happened. I arrived home safely, with a dearth of adrenaline and no grander perspective on life. I think it can be useful to face one's mortality in some way. Being imprisoned for a couple of days back at the RNC certainly opened my eyes, but that was more of a sustained, uncertain fear than a thrilling challenge. I could use an instinctual challenge to remind myself why I'm here. To remind myself that I should be here.

My toilet has been clogged since yesterday. I meant to get a plunger today, but I forgot. And I've really got to go!