walk this way


walk this way by gnawledge wurker
walk this way, a photo by gnawledge wurker on Flickr.

Huntsville, Ontario

Advertisements

German film SLR from 1960 – Voigtlander Bessamatic with f4 135mm lens


I head to Toronto tomorrow for some medical appointments. I plan to load this baby tonight and will probably take off the 135mm lens and put on either the 35mm or 50mm lens. HP5 400 ISO from ILFORD is the film of choice.

When I get the film processed and scan the negatives of downtown Toronto, I will add some shots with the camera with the three different lenses mounted and some closeups of the controls.
Keep an eye out for that post in about two weeks time.

rant warning 2nd shoe drops


SECOND SHOE DROP – got the preliminary heads up that with the assholes in nephrology having destroyed my perfectly excellent fistula the day after my surgery on July 31st and running with a chest line; my clearances never great were just at the bottom of acceptable with fistula, below that with chest line = more dialysis time going to be recommended.

I am already doing 4.5 hours Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

If they say I must give up my Saturday as well, they will be told in a loud clear voice to go fukk themselves. I have done everything they have ordered, their process is fukked post surgery, they should have run it like a two day weekend. There was no burning need to do dialysis within 24 hours of surgery.  Surgeon asked they hold off on hephrin for two sessions post surgery, he did not want me to bleed out.  They regulary wait 62 hours between friday afternoon and Monday afternoon dialysis runs and I dont explode in a toxic mess.  I asked them to take a look athier protocaol.  god knows if they will.

I will grudgingly give up to an added Tuesday or Thursday slot. Trouble is the scheduled is pretty full up for the regional nephrology. If it came to it I would drive to Toronto to save my Saturdays.  I moved to Mon, Wed Fri, so I might be able to take some continuing education courses usually scheduled on Saturdays.

Rant now over, stay healthy, I didn’t, and it sucks royally.

My Poem – Fictional Clarity


Fictional Clarity

I was usually lying when we talked,
trying to figure out what you wanted to hear.
It was my main form of mental exercise,
Keeping that mythical universe straight.
The real world was green when we began
And I was terrified of being understood,
Unmasked, and pushed firmly away.
We were an oddly matched set of candlesticks.
Dogs both, I read books by the freight car load,
You used them to dress a room.
You never played any sport in your life.
Your father was a monster. Mine was a Dad.
Your mother was a victim. My Mom was a Viking.
Your siblings got beatings. Was that really true.
Impossible to judge. A manipulation?
Your other specialty was to gift me a Delphi Oracle answer,
holding the mirror up for me to see what I wanted,
permitting me to stuff the fool’s gold into my pocket,
the one with the hole in it. The clarity of mud.

Maybe I was hoping to get caught,
Or gathering plot incidents for the novel
I was too damned lazy to write.
One day I realized one enormous truth
That explained a ton of moments of extreme unction.
You had million dollar taste and a sixty thousand dollar income,
Producing megatonnage stress in your life. And mine.
But then I sat down over a coffee and added up
Your list of deceptions involving
Your son and your other boyfriend.
And your best friend who drove you a little crazy
In her neediness, her long climb back
From a thermonuclear divorce.

We were in your bed cooling down like the desert slipping into night
When your other guy, the lawyer called
And you soothed him on the phone
Trying to erase his hellish day.
I sat on the other side of your bed,
Studied your back and the back of your head
In the shadows of your bedroom.
It was winter outside.
I listened to your sweet, understanding words.
Then I tried to think carefully to decode
The lies you must have been telling me.
How did we arrive at this fiction.
When could we put it back on a shelf

.

2 masks


2 masks by gnawledge wurker
2 masks, a photo by gnawledge wurker on Flickr.

my “paintings made w image drawing sw,  I don’t recall the tool.

  • The method was to use a symmetry mirror.
  • first make the base piece, then copy it and flip it,
  • I think I then used perspective correction to increase not decrease perspective,
  • basically stretching the base image,
  • I used an eraser to remove portions and
  • then drop shadow to give the impression of depth and lift off from the white background;
  • then copying and placing below the original, and
  • finally inverting it to end up with four united pieces.
  • This is two results placed together.
  • The one on the bottom to me looks like a mask for a person to wear.
  • Top is one step more abstracted beyond that.

Hunter S. Thompson – we need you


English: Hunter S. Thompson, Miami Book Fair I...
English: Hunter S. Thompson, Miami Book Fair International, 1988 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Here is my mini-meditation for the day:  it is a long walk down the hall of boomeranged good intentions

What a howling, snivelling shame we don’t have Hunter S. Thompson around and in his prime to study the current smorgasbord of humanity running amok.  The world’s policeman hog calling and stomping with grace and superior technology.  All our souls fogged and shredded, designed and branded.  The ultimate fast fashion is the high speed revolutions per second of the evolving lizard, ye olde “American Dream.”  We know from the sucking chest wounds where our hearts used to beat all the way down to our Nike sneakers we will never know much peace and very little balance in our new nightmares. Hope is still out there.  I think I saw a breafast cereal with that name.  Somewhere in the Bible it says I shop therefore I am. But between tweets we kid ourselves that the existential enchilada isn’t both tattered, flapping in the hot desert wind, some dying of the day light sparkling the few large, remaining shards.  It has been shattered for all of us in our various Dante-assigned circles  of neediness and wannabe sweat.

Dream unattainable, HST writing weekly about Bush but probably even more interesting HST on Obama.

Most especially I wish I could read his thoughts on the mom talking about buying the amour plate, bullet proof ceramic wonder material insert for her 12 year old daughter’s school book knapsack and what that says about our civilization and our society and our dignity and finally our score in the all time measure of humaness and humanity.  She was small enough to hunker down behind the bag.  She looked athletic enough to run down range with it on her back, hoping the rounds didn’t go too low and take out her legs.  Everywhere is a shooting range these days.

Caught Bill Maher the other day, he seems so cruelly sane. I laughed and cried and shook my head so hard I felt like a retired NFL player.

Listened to Mort Sahl, an old recording from the Watergate period. He remarked, at the time of the Declaration of Independence there were 4 million people in America and there was Ben Franklin, Jefferson, Adams, Washington, and that bunch of geniuses. And today (1974) with 200 million Americans and there is Nixon, Agnew and McGovern. What does that prove? Darwin was wrong, dead wrong. Evolution was a dream.

Before I unplug the computer and the soul support pump, I look out the windows.  No, that is not a Soviet  boomer attack submarine out there in Georgian Bay.  The Bay is silvery grey and the clouds hang dark and menacing like Vin Diesel‘s lower lip.  It is cold and getting colder.  We may skip right past autumn.  Go find your toque, gloves and scarf, you will need it sooner than we all might imagine.

“Follow the bubbles and swim after them, always head towards the light.”

photos of National Shrine of St. Elizabeth Seton, Emmitsburg, Maryland, USA


AGFA BILLY RECORD III


My photos from a 2003 trip, some shots made with digital camera, Canon G2 and Nikon Coolpix 5700; others with 1950 era medium format camera, 6×9 cm Agfa Record Billy III with Apotar 105mm f4.5 lens using Kodak 400 VC 120 film – extra ordinarily beautiful church.