SONG:  RATT – YOU'RE IN LOVE

Which is much better than the F-BOMB.  Absolutely nuclear.

Have you done it?  The fucking C-BOMB.

Works wonders.

Bitch is just so … dialup when you think about it.

Well … I dropped it on some little production assistant piece of shit.

And I smiled at her the rest of the day.

Yeah, I know … this just compounds the image some of you have of me, no?

Not to be Euro-Trash by saying no … at the end of a sentence.

I was going to name this "Mormon Mardi Gras – West."

But decided the C-Bomb was more apropos, no?

Kidding.

For fuck's sake … how do people deal with having to HAVE a jacket and donning said jacket no matter where they go?

Coat-fucking-check.

Valet parking for coats.

I spent more on that than I did drinking.

Wait … we didn't pay for drinks.

And they serve until friggin' one ay-em?

So they can go home and make more servants to all that is L.D.S.?

Mormons are nice people.

I have a Mormon friend.

But … really … for fuck's sake … one ay-em?

What's the fucking point?

Yeah, I know, it's a fucking red state.  But why impose these religious-centred morals on the rest of us?

If for only ten days … the immoral Los Angelenos and the requisite New Yorkers take over this town.  

The Mormons call Park City … Sin City.

There's even that phrase one hears, "What happens at Sundance … stays at Sundance."

There is at least one person that will totally call me and tell me to fuck off at that last statement.

Oh well.

Won't be the last time.

No doubt.

SONG:  GREAT WHITE – Heart the Hunter

I'm a California boy … slippin' on fuckin' ice and wearing big heavy jackets is not what I'm about …



but … Sundance … Is like winter camp.

For … not for adults … no one there acts like adults.

Dunno.

But … I get to hang out with my friends from all over the world.  My new BFF is:



This motherfucker knows how to fucking party.  Ask the Park City Police.

They didn't like us.  We took our condo-party of thirty to his condo-party of thirty and added a few more for good measure.



no, she wasn't there.

It'd been cool if she were, though.

SONG:  JOHNNY CASH – Personal Jesus



She wasn't there either but she was every-fucking-where else.

Except for one place but I'm not talking about that.  Still made me fucking laugh.

Still won't tell.

Managed to break my 35 Summilux.  I guess it's going back to Solms.  According to the repair guy at Leica, "War photographers don't send in their equipment this often.  What do you do to it?"

I dunno.

But Jack Osbourne made a photo of Jamie and I:



This was in the "real VIP" area not the "loser VIP" area … which looked like:



at least this is how I remembered it.

SONG:  GREAT WHITE – Baby's On Fire

Some people don't wear winter-appropriate clothes.  



It's alright … some don't need to if it's warm inside a US$6M house overlooking Park City:



I used to call her Sienna … but she's so much hotter than "Sienna."  I mean I'm sure Jude wouldn't have fucked the porky babysitter if it were this Sienna.  Nate is "besties" as my friend Jose says ... with Lindsay.  Motherfucker is everywhere.  Almost like Paris.



But it's not.

There was this feeling to Sundance '06 … dunno why …



It was palpable.

And … I shot the fuck out of it with my Leica.  25 rolls.  APX 100.  Delta 400.  Dropped it all at the lab yesterday.

Last night.  Can't wait to get it back.  This was the best Sundance I've ever attended and covered.

For … I landed … discovered that some fuckwad …

Fuck count anyone?

Song:  METALLICA – The God That Failed

Had taken my Tumi packing case.  I knew it was taken by mistake as there was the same exact luggage on the carousel.  It had a business card.

Suffice it to say that I received a telephone call rather quickly.

I was much nicer than I thought I would have been.

Three hours I retuned to shooting.

The usual suspects.  Paris.  Her freak boyfriend.  Nicky.  Tara (looking very skinny). Leo – who was very impressed that I, too, give money to the EDF.



The same time the night before that I made the above photo – yes, the new Russian crop has arrived in L.A. – I was at a private concert by Metallica.

Fucking, eh.

There was almost no way to shoot it.  Our staffer got in.  Got close.  Then the moshing started and a speaker or monitor landed on his foot.

Poor fuck.

I asked a six-foot-fucking-nine-four-hundred-pounder – who shits more a day than my dog weights, I'm sure – to lift me up.

Shot a whole role with a broken 35 Summi.

I bought him a beer.

Guess he wasn't Mormon.

Not that I met many in Park City.

SONG:  METALLICA – Holier than Thou

I forgot about Summer.

She dates basketball players.

Really stupid ones.

But she's really smart:



I swear.

Not PETA-friendly but smart none-the-fucking-less.

SONG:  METALLICA – Sad But True

Ya' know … if for anything else besides being a connoisseur of fine hors deurves and free vodka … I know a good d.j. when I hear these two each put on their sets:



For those that don't know … Samanta Ronson and DJ A.M. (Nicole's Ex).

SONG:  JOHNNY CASH – Cocaine Blues

It's just a song.  No meaning intended.

SONG:  RATT – Lack of Communication

SONG:  JOHNNY CASH – Ring of Fire

SONG:  GREAT WHITE – All Over Now

This was my dresser in Sundance:



This was our last night … all together … well … not everyone … we had 31 photographers.  3 were at the other, more stoic table, but … this was the "bad table":



I love the Fingerprint girls:



This … I made this for kinderschokolade … quite apropos ... you fucking badass:



VIP to the Larry Flynt Hustler club?



not so sure it's appropriate.  But my friend loves loves loves strippers.

This was the result of being a stupid dumbfuck and riding the chairlift in wholly inappropriate clothes during a snowstorm.  Just dumb:



So … yep … back here for a little while.  But … the Santa Barbara Film Festival was just put in my lap.  Starts next Thursday for ten friggin days.  I don't know when to say when.

Really.

But … I have another photographer to assign and an editor to deal with the deluge.

Parties.

Premieres.

Awards.

Portraits.

The gamut.

All me.  Except for what I assign out.

Then … fucking Oscar-season.

Then … Fashion Week Los Angeles … not that I'm looking forward to it.

A vacation.

Yes, that's exactly what I'd like.

Whilst away … I just want to thank you guys for the continuous stream of comments, suggestions, dev watches, favourites, prints, EVERY-FUCKING-THING.  You guys really are what this community is all about.

The article on street photography?  It's still on my desktop … I'm just waiting for one last piece to arrive.  tardy motherfucker.

Someone sent me a note saying that I use too much profane language ….

Um … you don't have to fucking read it.

Seriously.

I just don't get that.

So … again … won't be around here all that often for the next two weeks.  At least Santa Barbara Film Festival is much closer than Utah.  There are less dogmatic adherents to a strange religion … and … I don't have to wear a jacket.  

Or slip on ice.

And, in all actuality, I'm looking forward to it.  This is the first festival of any magnitude that I'm taking on … on my own.

But … partying with Jamie in NYC seems like such a good idea.

Hmm…

He probably said one of the nicest things to me … "Bro … I've never met anyone that inspires me more to go make photos than you."

Thanks, brother.

Seriously.

He was the source of the VIP tickets to the Metallica concert.

Just had sushi!  Seared ahi … spicy tuna handroll … ah … back to L.A.

Makes home seem so nice …

And … tonight … the first night of real sleep.

No edits.

No hangover.

Fucking lovely.

I hope this finds you all very very well.

I mean … Chocolate hates me.  But … this is the life I lead.  Fast.  Wholly unbalanced to those that don't live the motherfucker.  

Cheers from the warmer-than-Sundance that is Los Angeles,
Chris

p.s., Think I'm going to be loving  this.  I've joined the fucked up crowd that is addicted to Crackberries.

Do you remember that fucking joke?

INDIAN BOY:  Chief why did you name him "Deer Running"?

INDIAN CHIEF:  Well … it was a fine fall morning and the first thing I saw when I found out he was born was a deer running.  Take him over there .. the first thing I saw when he was born was a bear scratching a tree; he was named, "Standing Bear."

INDIAN BOY:  Hmm….

INDIAN CHIEF:  So … what's the problem Two Squirrels Fucking?

I think I heard this joke and it was Two Dogs Fucking.  But … when I arrived at a shoot in Beverly Hills … I'm glad I wasn't an Indian chief charged with naming newly born babies … because … this was the first thing I saw:



Some of my friends have this as their wallpaper.  Sick bastards.  I like the one where the top squirrel is looking at me … but … it's not as sharp as this one.

I gotta tell you … there are some real assholes on dA.  This little prick – who'll remain nameless – says, "You're an asshole.  You're full of yourself."  What the fuck compels some little prick to just write that on someone's page?  Erectile dysfunction at age sixteen?  Mommy doesn't love him?  Odd.

Too bad he was only banned for 24 hours.  Talentless little bitch.

I think I should dedicate the squirrels to Arnold Schwarzenegger's gay nephew but rather I think I'll dedicate this one to him:



I'm sure he can do some parody of that.  And he'll do it quite well, no?  Cheeky bastard.

Okay … buy some of my fucking prints, 'kay?  I wanna buy:



It's being auctioned.  The main auction is [link] stuff.

Stephen Gandy tells me that not many of these 90/1.0 lenses were made and they were originally made for military applications.  Hmm …

I'm so fucking happy I'm not in Vegas any more!  Seriously.  I mean … there were parts of it that were fun but … that fucking town.  Everyone is a Vee-Eye-Fucking-Pee:



And they still wait in line.

This is how I remember Vegas, though:



Cigarettes in an ashtray!  Wait … then there was friggin' Flavour Flav's fucking drunk-ass cousin too:



Maybe it's that I live for airports?  Dunno …

I mean … the cowboy … the cancelled flights … the endless ringing of slotmachines in said airport that is only Vegas.  Haven't seen them anywhere else.  They're probably in Reno too but who the fuck goes there?  I know I like to make photographs in airports though:



Sorry … my journal photos aren't those motivational-poster-types.

I shouldn't have learned how to do this PhotoBucket thingy.  In fact, they sent me a nasty email saying I'd exceeded bandwidth.  So … I upgraded.  Whatever.  If I find value … I'll buy.

We do, in fact, have snow in fucking Los Angeles:



Contrived-ass-fake-snow … but … it was snowing nonetheless.

My little friend chocolate hates cats.  I was "doing the suburban thing" – watching USC get their asses beat by those red state bastards … and decided to pick on their cat:



I mean … this was the only nice photo I made of their cat.  Seriously, I fucking photograph everything.  It's a sickness.  A compulsion if you will.

My parting words to my friend's friends … "I hope your cat wasn't too traumatized tonight."

I held the cat up in the air and photographed its ass with my mobile and sent it to chocolate.  "I don't give a cat's ass."

She thought it was funny.

I think.

What's funny is Andy-fucking-Dick with a chimp:



Or an Oscar-winning-Adrien-Brody with a chimp … not as funny as Mr. Dick:



Yes, I had a bit of time off.  'twas very nice to just chill and not have anything expected of me at all.  Went and saw Zooey Deschanel perform at the Hotel Café.  Kirsten Dunst was watching as well but she only stayed for like 20 minutes:



We then went to the Velvet Margarita where Mr. Lachey was having dinner with some "not-so-hot-girls" and his brother.  When the fuck did his brother become famous enough to be on the vapid "Dancing with the Stars"?  On the subject of Mr. Lachey …

Did the People's Choice awards last week.  Hadn't done those for a while.  The highlight for me was George Lopez saying, "We're sorry we didn't have room for Nick Lachey tonight; We had enough seat-fillers."  I hear that pissed off Jessica Simpson.  It didn't piss off Matthew though:



It's funny … I knew that this photo probably made the watch manufacturer happy but I never expected Newsweek editors to put it in the MSNBC's Reader's Choice thingy.  Who knew?  I didn't.  

I'm now in love with a new brand of watch.  They're not new … just new to me. Gevril.  I quite like the Avenue of the America's GMT Power Reserve in stainless with the stainless bracelet.  Wonder if they'll treat me well?  Hint… hint.

So … the street photography article is done.  I had some additional material done for it.  I asked !micdt, ~kinderschokolade, ~londn, `rain1man and !deborahdelasio to provide forwards for me.  Now … I'm just doing one last proofread and writing an afterward.  I think it's like 130 pages.  Nuts.  I know.

I'm hoping to post it before I leave for a while.

It's Sundance Film Festival time.  Time for a Utah-town that doesn't alter it's schedule for the denizens of LA folk who are on a wholly different sched than they are.  You can't eat there past midnight.  You can't even get a coffee.  Bastards.  In fact, you can't have two drinks in front of you.  Some Mormon-inspired law.  Stupidity.  I don't get it.  So … I fedexed alcohol, coffee, a Bialetti and some food to my condo.  Same condo-mates as last year!!!!!!  Very happy about that!

I hear it's fucking cold in Park City!  Snowed yesterday.  Not that I'm going to ski.  I mean … a client spends all this money to send my happy-ass to Sundance and I throw out an ACL?  Yeah, they'd be fucking stoked.

Yes, that means I won't be around dA much in the next 10 days.

A bit.

There's no wireless there.

In the editor's room, yes, but in mine, no.

The night I get back.  I land at LAX.  4 hours later … they scheduled my ass to shoot.  Gotta love workaholics.

So … everyone … I hope the new years are off to a good start.  Mine is.  Even met up with ~londn for lunch on Saturday!  Cool fucking kid.  Talented too!  Leica in tow!

Thank you all so very much for all of the devwatches, faves, comments, notes, dd suggestions (of which I've dd'd until the middle of February), the print sales … all of it.  No thanks to that little prick that found it necessary in between internet-porn-sessions and getting yelled at by his mom to graffiti my page … but … it's all good.

Hope this finds you all exceptionally well!

Cheers from Los Angeles,
The asshole who's full of himself!

p.s., I don't wear Versace Jeans.

… doused with diesel fuel and burned.  That would be one of the shittiest jobs on the planet.  But … I guess if you're in Vietnam … fighting an unjust war … it'd be alright.

What does that have to do with fucking anything?

Nothing except it was one of the stories "Dave," my driver, told me on the way home from the airport.

America West Airlines is the shittiest airline on the planet.  Whilst on the topic of fucking shit.

Remember my story of Miami to LAX?

Well … pretty much the same from Las Vegas to Burbank.

Never.

Ever.

Again.

"I know, man, we suck.  I wouldn't fly us." – America West Employee.

A fucking supervisor.

The Southwest flight was alright except for the part of flying into a massive storm.

I made it.

I'm happy.

After arriving in Las Vegas and waiting for Chocolate I saw:



Then I saw:



Followed by my Chinese cab driver.  I didn't know the Chinese liked to drive cabs.  This guy was actually quite good:



Honestly … the Venetian … not a bad hotel.  The food was fucking amazing.  The room rocked.  Didn't even leave the property.  Not once.  

In 2.5 days.

Fucking Vegas!

Everyone is a fucking VIP!  What the fuck is that?  The greasier the better. The more decrepit … the better.  The grossest "little man" walked up and said the grossest things to my friend Kim.  Amazing.

I really don't know what is good about that town.

I know what's good!  

I'm not in that fucking town any longer.

So … The whole point was New Years Eve with Ms. Hilton.  My God.  There is so much.    I just wish I could dish it here but … I can't.

Let's just say this … one shouldn't think that one's underage boyfriend can pull off a fake ID with experienced gaming officials.

I did get to hang out with Ice T.  What a cool fucking guy.



The décor at Tao was really fucking cool:









This was the stroke of midnight:



Fucking drunk-ass fucking wanna-be VIP's.  So damn glad there was a rope separating us from the idiots who paid $200 for the privilege of saying, "Dude … I was at Paris Hilton's party" once they got back to New Jersey or Kansas or wherever.

Gonna flame me because you live in aforementioned?

Honestly, I don't fucking care.

Gotta love Paris and her entourage:



And her mini-entourage:



The center girl is one of my favourite people.  Carolyn.  Just fucking cool.

One could only hope to be on this group's list:



They rock.  I mean … one of them shows me his digi and says, "What do you think someone would pay for this shot?"

It was Johnny Depp making pizza for his kids.

Amazing.

Who are they?  They're promoters.  They're celeb-wranglers.  But … they treat me very well and I've known them for forever and a day.

Sometimes.  I'm not a complete uncaring prick.  I promise.

When I was advised by the fucking most horrible fucking airline on the fucking planet that my "plane was experience mechanical difficulties" I noticed the girl next me to fucking losing it.  Instead of launching in an outright tirade on some underpaid fuck … I decided to be a bit more collected.

Marisela.  She was coming back from Aspen – with her Harrod's bags – and had been fucked by American West two days in a row.  Instead of spending New Year's with her attorney-husband America-fucking-West made her spend New Years in the hell-hole that is Las Vegas.

So … I decided to help this girl thru the process.  Her husband asked to talk to me and said, "Dude, you ever need a legal favour, please call me."

Well … I got her bags.  What the fuck she could have had in these bags is be-fucking-yond me.  They were heavy.

I hear she arrived in Burbank safely.

I took the flight right after hers.

I wanted to get this up – seeing as how today is my 3rd dA birthday --  but … a party awaits.

Hmm … a post-production party.

Time to grab the iPod and go.

So … two days passed …

In between … wow … I feel busy but I don't think I really did shit.

I did finally read this thing about Leica.  Did you know that they had their own Schindler's-List-like operation during WW2?  I have never carried my equipment more proudly.  What other camera company had the fucking balls to do something like this?  None that I know of.

Schindler's List is perhaps the only film that moves me in a way … that … well … there's some palpable connection I have to it.  The little red dress – thank you, Mr. Spielberg – is indelibly marked in my brain.  I will always wonder how one man could be some overtly evil in dealing with his fear.  Couldn't you just walk away and think, "Damn I really don't like those Jewish people" rather than doing what he did?  I dunno what goes thru people's heads.

That … and my eighty-something-year-old neighbor Anne.  Replete with the tattoo.  And the stories.  I remember when I happened upon her talking with an older black guy – another neighbor's father – at the pool.  He was an ex-slave.  Imagine … a Holocaust survivor and an ex-slave.  As much as I wanted to hear what they had to say, I left.

The vibe was something that I didn't understand.

Talking about stories … Jeeeee-sus-christ.  The dude that drove me from the airport to my home … Dave.  The Vietnam vet.  "Ever fire a fifty-fucking-cal stoned out of your mind?"

"Dude, she was so fucking hot.  She washed my jeep for two dollars.  We fucked three times that afternoon."

Imagine The Big Lebowski.

Seriously.

He told me that he wasn't infantry; he was a "rock breaker," an engineer.  When he got tired of the shit he was given from one commanding officer he asked another officer for a job, "Sir, I want the shittiest job you have."  The soon-to-be-new-cee-oh said, "I've got one for you."

Dave was now in charge of burning 55 gallon drums of human excrement with diesel fuel.

Because Dave did his job without complaining he got the "kush job" of driving the C.O. around in their new shiny jeep.  

Thinking of totally innocent people being rounded up and exterminated has kinda changed my mood.

It always does.

As does the thought of any injustice.

It almost makes me wish I became an attorney.

But … I think the world is a safer place since I'm not.

I started writing and photo-editing my "thingy" on street photography.

I'm sure someone will call me a Leica-bitch.  But … I don't care.

Most of you know that.

Got all my Sundance assignments in order.  The day I fly back; I shoot that night!

In fact, I'm shooting every day until I get on a plane to Mormon-land.

My assignment editor thought I was perhaps serious when I said I wanted a driver for the Chihuahua and for her to be able to go to a dog spa whilst I worked.

She countered, "I'll get her little pink Uggs for all of her paws."

"She already has them.  What about the driver?"

So … my fingers hurt.

THANK YOU ALL for the amazing comments and well-wishes you left.  I was both inundated and busy as shit over the past week.   I WISH ALL OF YOU A HEALTHY AND PROSPEROUS NEW YEAR.

Thank you all again for the comments, devwatches and fav's,  I've now been here in this electronic art community for three years.  So much has happened in those three years.  I've made some of the most amazing friends – both over the computer and, now, in person – through this place.

I'd pay double the price of the subscription.  I would.  I swear.

Hope this finds you all well …

I'll watch my one football game for the year.

Cheers all,
Chris

Listening to:  Midival Punditz – Dark Escape

For all of those that I was unable to extend my warmest holiday wishes … I hope you all had an amazing Christmas, first few days of Hanukkah or whatever you find yourself celebrating.  Hope the New Year brings you all untold amounts of joy, happiness, good health and prosperity.

I don't remember where I first heard the thing about Santa.  Could've been anywhere.

The UPS dude just got here and delivered my Caffe Kimbo!  I really enjoy this coffee.

Dunno why.

Perhaps because it reminds me of so many good friends and times back in Napoli.

Forse.

Sicuro!

It always seems like a damn blur to me.  So many things happen.  I'm not sure why certain things stick to the grey matter and others do not.

Today I am finalizing my New Year's Eve plans.  No, not plans.  It's work.  I'm Paris Hilton's photographer that night at her party.  Who better to spend New Years with in such a "what-happens-in-INSERTCITYNAME-stays-in-INSERTCITYNAME-kinda-town."  I'm sure it'll be interesting.  The night before I'm hired out as well.  Sunday will be spent editing and travelling back to Los Angeles.

Santa's not always Satan:



Not putting this up as a deviation.  In fact, I think I'll start posting non-deviation/non-scraps stuff in my journal.  Enough of you liked it.  The hosting site is easy enough.  I figured out some of this html bullshit.

Listening to:  Jocelyn Pook – Masked Ball

I just like making photos.  In fact, I do it so often it really pisses people off.  Not like what happened to ~kinderschokolade according to his last journal. That would suck.  Yes, freak, next time try the epileptic spasm.  Kinda like the wounded goose defence.  

Listening to:  Bebel Gilberto - The Girl From Ipanema

That santa photo … the prior one … I have no idea where that came from.  I picked up the film and I'm assuming it was shot with my MP and the Nocti.  Maybe someone borrowed it and … dunno … odd.  Damn photo phantoms.

Listening to :  The Boy With The Thorn In His Side (The Smiths) - Jeff Buckley

I've never really run into the problem that Severin did on the mean streets of Vienna.  I just pick on:



This little fucker isn't as nice as he looks; he tried to bite four or five Beverly Hills Christmas shoppers.  We laughed though.  Quite hard, actually.

I don't know if he's a little fucker, per se, as he didn't try to hump my leg.  'kay.

Shot with the MP and the Nocti.  I think it was like 1/30th at one-oh on my favourite … Ilford Delta.

I picked on some bloke laying in the sun on the bench whilst lunching at P.F. Chang:



He wasn't homeless … who I normally see doing the same thing.  His wife had fake breasts.  No homeless man with a little dog wearing a shirt that says "Santa's Little Helper" is homeless.  That is, of course, if said gold-digging-suburban-wife-on-prozac runs off with the gardener or the neighbor or the best friend.

All of those things have happened where I live.

The husbands were not sleeping on benches though.

Ya' know … really … just shoot.  Shoot all the fucking time.  I do.  I love it.  Dunno why … I just do.  You guys don't see everything.  Not even close.  Whether it's some embargoed editorial stuff or just the stuff … I see.  Don't be embarrassed.  Just shoot.

Listening to:  The Smiths – How Soon is Now

Even if that means digital.  Even if that means some little digi.  Roses are pretty.



Cool shapes are everywhere.  I'm a little worried that my mom thought this was phallic:



I like to remember things.  Since … it's all just a blur when you're so busy … photographs help.  I think.  They do for me.  It'll be cool for my daughter to one day look through the hard drives and say, "Jesus, what the fuck!?"  I wonder if – besides photo gear and film – she wonders what standard operating equipment that is a mobile and a Kettle-One-Cran is used for:



Listening to:  The Devlins – The Waiting

She'll probably thought I made a lot of friggin' photos!

All of the above photos were shot with the Leica D-Lux 2.  All on manual.  I'm still surprised how damn good that camera is.

Stephen Gandy showed me the new Zeiss stuff that fits the Leica M system.  Interesting.  Not buying anything as I'm quite happy with the way Leica stuff works wide open.

Or stopped down with studio strobe focused on a hot girl eating chips:



She'll hate me for that.  Whatever.  I can take it.

She's an amazing little note writer.  I mean seriously.

Listening to:  Chris Isaak – Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing

When I think back to this particular Christmas and the memories that it gave me, honestly, I really think about the Christmas two years ago.  Was cool.  We gave my little girl her little dog:





And then this year:



They're such little friends.  From the moment we sprung chi-chi on her two years ago by putting her in a stocking to today – replete with a spike collar and pink winter coat.

NO.

JUST SO YOU FUCKING KNOW.

I DO NOT – REPEAT – NOT DRESS UP THE DAMN DOG.

Just so you know.

I did confess to pulling the power on the microwave, inserting said chi-chi along with a slaved strobe, closing the door and making a photo.

Ya' know … she just didn't have the fear I wanted her to have had to make the photo work.

She doesn't take direction well.

Watched some of my favourite directors as of late.  Kubrick.  I love how his films make you want to see them over and over and over.  I for one love "Eyes Wide Shut."  It gives the meaning of fidelity so much more meaning.  Then Mssr. Jean-Pierre Jeunet's Amelie.  If we all saw the world that way, we'd have no strife.  What else?  Oh, yeah, "Closer" as well.  Still unsure if I like it even though Miss Portman strips.  I do know that I love the vision that is Sofia Coppola's "Lost In Translation."  It's poetry.  Poetry between two people that seem so different and appreciate each other's differences even though their respective spouses take them for granted.  I will watch this film forever.  Thank you, Sofia.  Why all the movies?  Why do I have time?  Well, simply, I do have the fucking time.  It's been nice.  That and mommy and daddy were quite good to me this year.  I was one of the people that received the more than US$18,000,000,000 worth of gift cards given this holiday shopping season.  

I'm not one for being influenced by adverts.  That said, if I didn't admit that the Sony Bravia LCD bouncy-ball spot didn't influence me, I'd be lying.  I mean I've always owned Sony video gear and this last purchase was no different:



It all synched up with Orb Audio speakers.  Those are those little sphere-like thingies.  They sound amazing.  My sister said, "I hate that little pyramid thing you have going."  Whatever.  

Listening to:  The Smiths – I Know It's Over

I think it's time for some gyros from my friendly Middle Eastern cafe in the neighborhood.  That and, perhaps, an action film.

With the fucking mobile right next to me.  What I do professionally is like ten fucking percent shooting.  The rest of the time is putting up with twenty billion people involved in whatever I'm shooting.  Endless phone calls -- of which were also received on Christmas day -- and emails and texts and skype's.

I really love Skype.

Well EVERYONE thanks again for the faves, devwatches, comments ... your continued involvement in this amazing site.

Hope this finds you all very well,
Cheers from the grey Los Angeles,
our 86 degree weather has left us,
Chris

p.s., Catch my 300K pageviews you get any two (2) prints in my prints gallery.  Just note me if you happen to grab it.  Please ... no PS manips of the screenshot.  Thanks.

Pretty People to … the post people …

To some dude name Rico who claimed to be a porn photographer.

Went to the Flaunt Magazine party the Friday before last.  It was the issue release party for my friend's photos of Charlize.  He did an amazing job.  Like seriously amazing.  Randall Slavin – who doesn't have a website – kicks some serious ass.  Jessica Alba was there too.

I love being able to roll up to a party where you should have gone to some parking garage, gotten your wristband and taking a shuttle.  There was a space almost in front of the humongous house.  Wasn't even on any list and I walked away with four wristbands.  The friends I went with are part of a band, Secret Mind.  I felt like a publicist in that I had to walk them down the press line and convince photographers to shoot them.

This party was 3:1 hot girls to guys.

This – sorry Chocolate – was in diametric opposition to the post party I was taken to the next Saturday night.  Wow.  There is such a difference between the "talent-side"
and the post-production side of things.  I'm sure `red5 would agree.

Then again, drunk fucking people are drunk fucking people.  No matter the context of the party.

I really haven't been around here lately.  Sorry.  I've been working hardcore.  No, I don't shoot hardcore, but … have been working my ass off nonetheless.

Speaking about hardcore.  I land in Vegas – a town I can't stand – and figure out I left my lighter in the car.  There's this guy smoking.  So I ask him for a light.  He sees my bag, which I guess paints me as a photographer.  He tells me he's a photographer as well.  I asked what genre and he says, "I do hardcore and softcore porn."

Vegas – a good town for this.

He asked why I was in town and I told him I was there for the Billboard Music Awards and a party I knew was going to suck.

Because I'm nosey-fucking-bastard (sorry, mom) … I asked if he had a website.  He then went on to tell me about Eastern European websites that steal work.  He then pulls out some little 3mp HP or Kodak inta-digi and proceeds to scroll through photos.

Seriously, housewives that have been "ridden hard and put away wet" as it were.  My God.  I think I've seen everything.

Gross oncamera harsh flash.

Sagging titties.

Wrinkly asses.

He gave me his card.

He asked me for my contact information.  I have this sinking suspicion that some photographer will be getting a call.  

Why some suburban husband would EVER invite this creep into their house to make "professional photos" with a friggin' camera they could buy themselves on Ebay for less than a case of wine is beyond me.

I'm such a dick.

Well … not to those who know  me, of course.

On another note … I've been finding out what it's like to have one's identity stolen.  Police reports.  Attorneys.  Opposing counsel who if I ever meet this fuck I'm not going to be very nice.  This is a total pain in the ass.  It's taking up a lot of time.  The police couldn't understand why I wanted to send an assistant to do the report.  "Sir, you have to be here in person to make a report."

Whatever.

I hope this ordeal is over soon.  Then … to get all this shit off the ever-important credit report.

Didn't have time to include a playlist but it includes SuperGrass, the Rolling Stones and Diamond Nights.

I love it when my little brown dog jumps up on my lap.

The simple things.

Yes, this reminds me … thank you guys so much for the support you guys showed .  It was all a bit overwhelming.  I had two 16x20's printed by Hollywood's best lab, Photo Impact - Hollywood.  One for my parents and one for myself.  Had a couple 11x14's printed as well.  One for the ex-wife for Christmas.  The scan associated with that photo does not do it justice.  Agfa APX 25 is just fucking gorgeous when printed in a photographic sense.

Digital has nothing on this film.

Nor most film.

Again, if you're going to flame for making an anti-digital statement … go f*ck yourself first.  Describe that experience first as well.  Then flame me.
My love is finally coming back to me.  My 35mm Summilux – after a three month holiday in Germany – will be in my hands and in front of my eye tomorrow!  So damn happy.

I'm also evaluating the Leica D-Lux 2, which should arrive tomorrow as well.  I'll write up an evaluation with some photos on dA … when I've had a chance to shoot it.  It uses the SD cards.  Who the hell uses this shit.  It should all be Compact Flash.  But Sandisk sent me a couple cards as an early Christmas gift.  Besides my daughter's little Canon digi-point-and-shoot, I've never really had a point and shoot.  This one should be interesting.  Yes, I know it's a Panasonic.

See … I don't hate digital.  I just don't prefer it.

As much as I wanted to get the fuck out of Dodge … my schedule prevented me.  Now, I find out after Christmas and New Years I have like two weeks before the Sundance Film Festival.  In between that I have four or five shoots … all spread out.  I wonder if I'll have to wait until fucking spring to go anywhere…

I learned how to use html tag thingies.

I'm quite surprised.

Guess I won't be shooting Nicole's wedding.  Damn Hollywood relationships.

Seems like Hollywood relationships are as bad as those in the The Bible Belt.  Meet someone and propose to them a week later.  Break up.  Get a new significant other.  Perhaps … marry this person, break up, divorce, repeat the process.  Odd, really.

So … where's the suggestions for a couple Christmas-themed DD's?  I've seen like one or two.

Ah … I'm on the final stage of proofreading "The Quest of the Muse."  You're not going to fucking believe it.  128 pages.  Granted, most of the content is photos … most not seen in dA before.  Compressed pdf is about 10mb.  I plan on uploading it by the end of the week.

I think I have one shoot left this week and then some headshot sessions.  Ya' know it's funny.  I read someone that wrote doing headshots and how banal it is/was.  I laugh when I read that.  A friend of mine does 5 sessions a day three or four days a week.  Among other things, of course.  $500/session.  You do the math.  

I don't like Top Raman.  'kay.

I don't boil my dinner.

So … can all this dA paranoia be the fuck over?  It seemed like it was and then it reared it's ugly head.  

Art, people.

That's what this place is about.  Complainers in forums.  Bashers.  Go find another site.

This place is for art.

Hence the fucking name.

Well … I gotta get the rest of my day going.  Some hummus.  Some pita bread.  Chillin' with my little girl.  Watching the brown dog beg for some scraps.

Ya' know.

It's all good.

It's the simple things.

Especially in my complicated-ass life.

As always … thank you all for the faves, comments, devwatches … everything.  Totally appreciated.

Hope this finds you all well!!!!!!!

I know there's more that happened ... I know ... but ... I've been so damn busy I think I forgot already.

Cheers from the chillier-and-chillier Los Angeles,

So … I hope everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving … those … that celebrated it at least.

My Thanksgiving started a day and half before.  Okay … actually it started a couple weeks before.

Due to my mouth … I made disparaging comments about my mother's turkey cooking skilz.  Her response, "Make it yourself … smartass."

So … I polled some of the caterers I work with on occasion.  I figured the shit out.  Honestly, I don't like handling carcasses.  It's very disturbing.  This little bastard (or bitch) … bitch … I think … was running her happy turkey-ass all over some "free range" and now she's sitting in a brine solution.  Hmm…

Anyway … it turned out quite nicely … if I do say so myself.  Okay … everyone enjoyed it.  That and the four-hour reduction sauce that was turned into a gravy.

My parents have this cool old man as a neighbor.  90 friggin' years old.  His evil-church-lady-wife took off to Central California and left the poor old guy alone … through Thanksgiving and the subsequent Sunday.

Well … my sis and I took him enough Thanksgiving food to feed his genteel ass for a few days.

He said to my dad that he loved it.

Felt nice doing that.  The look on his face was priceless.  I think of that and smile.  In fact, I've thought of it quite often.  I think I'd like to do more of that.

So … I just submitted I think the next … hmm … I'll digress.  I started writing three "tutorials" (for lack of a better description) … this thwaap-thing, Muses and Street Photography.  I started writing them all for different reasons.  The ode to all that is the Leica M made it out of the gates first.  I'm not sure which of the other two will make it first or second.  'Tis fun writing them, though.

Bought myself an early Christmas present [link] makes one too [link] even used it for a while.  I liked the concept.  What I didn't like was the price tag.  Not that I like the price tag that is anything Leica.  But … my friend Mr. Gandy of [link] … he suggested it try out the Rapidwinder made by a friend of his up in Canada.

Friggin' wow!  Amazing.  Not only that but it's at the price that is acceptable for this type of accessory.

Also makes an amazing weapon … or so it would appear.

I've smacked someone with an M6 TTL.  I doubt they will ever try to take a camera from anyone.  Okay … I kicked him in the left knee as well but the Leica gave him the parting shot.

I'm really enjoying James Blunt.  Since I blew my desktop speakers … it's playing on the home system.  Much to the chagrin of any neighbors with their windows open.  I doubt they would though … it's quite cold here.

No … not like snow or anything but this is L.A.  Besides the girls in denim … it's the weather.

Ours rules.

Finally had like more than a few days off.  It was so damn nice.  I even took a break from the computer.  I mean I checked all that was pertinent but … a few days off nonetheless.

Last week saw the public demise of what was the Jess-Nick thing.  Honestly, I felt bad for them.  It's one thing breaking up with a g/f or b/f or husband or wife but … to have the whole damn world interested in the sordid details would just suck.

I mean you try and forget and you look back in the rearview mirror of life and it's there.  You check out of the supermarket and it's there.  Damn.  That'd suck.

Hence the reason I'm not a starfucker.

(Those that disagree can keep their comments and opinions to their own damn-selves )

Nick and Jess had one final public evening together … [link] recall – after I gave their bodyguard a hug – and them seeing this and then saying, "yeah, let's do a photo, Jess … come here."  I remember the emptiness in their eyes.  I remember it poignantly.

Like when my first wife and I separated.  Probably not for the same reasons.  I remember during those last days what it was like "faking" it.

And our only stage's audience included our 40 or so friends and family.  Not the millions of readers of the weeklies.

Their break-up made the splash page of msnbc.com … right next to like, "Earthquake Kills…" or some other bullshit.

Jess is single now.

Wait … I'm not a starfucker.

I don't even like "her type," even though she's totally sweet.

But … my silver lining is that I have the last public photo of them together as a couple.  Checked Getty.  Reuters.  AP.  Yep, the last time they were photographed together was by me.  Fodder for the weeklies.  So far I've counted three full-page placements.

Keeps a boy out of coach.

What can I say?

Doesn't happen for everyone.  It happened for me with Lindsay and Wilmer but when they first "became" public.  Ended up on the cover of several magazines.  It still runs to this day.  

Ah … all that is entertainment.

In addition to the diatribe on all that is Leica M … I've been writing … I'll digress.  I started three:  The Leica Diatribe, Muses and Street Photography.

So `northengirl tells me that Mr. Blunt's voice is girly.  Hmm…

My neighbors are just happy I'm listening to something of the acoustic variety.

Well … having started these three different articles-slash-diatribes-slash-whatever-the-fuck-the-are's … the Ode to the Leica M got finished first.  The muses one … I'm editing material that I haven't posted here.  The street photography one … well … I'm having some photos created that actually show some of my "stealth methods."

And I want to include some photographs that I'm making with the Yashica 4 Super D [link] hear from the previous assistant of a famous French street photographer – before he died, of course – who was friends with HCB that both he and HCB – even though HCB claimed to never make photographs – both used this camera extensively.  I didn't want to completely dominate my street photography diatribe with rangefinder madness.  Also, I don't think that street photography – or, at least, the tutorials I've read – has been well-described here on dA.  I want to do something different.

It's funny … I read some of the Leica boards and user groups.  That's how I met ~isha-1.  I'm sure he'll agree.  There are some pretentious-ass bastards that couldn't take a fucking photograph to save their lives … who expound on all that is Leica.  Makes me laugh.  I hear that some of them – instead of counting sheep – actually trip their shutters on their M's until they go to sleep.

Just because you shoot with whatever doesn't make you good.

Wish those that populate sites like those knew that.

I should post a friggin' link to this on one of more popular ones.

Just to piss them off.

But … I won't.

I think I have a light week this week.  I'm very happy about that.  Four assignments so far.  That's plenty.

No turkey to worry about.

Which is nice.  No carcass to fondle.

I think I've inherited turkey-cooking duties now, though.

Dammit.

Having some prints made … One of my daughter for my parents.  16x20.  Platinum print.  Not a typical portrait.  It's more of her emerging as this little lady from the little girl.  

She knows how to text message now!

I love looking down at my mobile and seeing, "Hi!"

That's it sometimes.

Just "Hi!"

Or a phone-picture of our Chihuahua entitled, "Sleeping puppy" or "Cute as a puppy in a blanket" or some other endearing little tidbit.

I love being her dad.

Honestly.

The way I feel about her is almost indescribable … the same way I feel about making photographs.

And … I love photographing her too.  Which makes the experience just so … fucking amazing.

I think she'll be part of the muses article-slash-whatever-the-fuck-it-is … just in a different context as it were.

I let her photograph me with one of the Leicas a couple weeks ago.

'twas fun.

Really fun.

I swear I'm gonna get my contest going.  I swear.  The work `Ghouldaddy put into it … will NOT go to waste!  Promise.

Very soon.

Let's see.  What else?

Dunno.

Just enjoying the chill-time.

Hope you guys are as well.

So … thanks you guys … seriously.  I hear the shit about dA.  I honestly don't give a fuck about it.  I've met some incredibly brilliant people here:  `red5 `Gonzale ~londn !micdt … to name a few.  And … ya' know … I'm sure this place could be better in some respects.  I don't know what those are.  But if I only knew the people that I regularly interact with … that would be good enough.

This community is amazing.  I think lolly and $Moonbeam13 are doing amazing jobs in their respective capacities.  It's so nice to be associated with people like these.

The deviants.

Some of the staff.  Most.  Past.  And present.

+spyed for that matter.  I will always think this guy's abso-fucking-lutely brilliant in so many fucking ways.  Ways that many here will never know.  But … if it weren't for this place I wouldn't have met some of the people I wholeheartedly respect.

Like `Gonzale's ability to suggest dd's!  thanks … my little French friend for the suggestions today.

I'm up to 24 December 2005.  Looking for the right Christmas image.  Haven't found it.  If anyone sees something, note me with that in the subject line.

Okay … time for some late-night telephone calls.  Thanks everyone.  For the part of the community that you all are, the fave's … the devwatches … the comments (most of them ) … the everything.  I feel that it's a real honor to be thought of the way I am by so many of you.  Thank you.  

See … I'm caring.

I swear.
Just don't ask my publicist.



So … happy and productive and safe week to all.

some nice work here [link] .

okay ... i'm out.

Cheers from the cold-yet-sunny-Los-Angeles,
Chris

p.s.., it's looking like I'm coming to NYC.  I can't go play in the E.U. as I had hoped.  Fucking schedules.

p.p.s., Make sure you visit as well.

20Nov2005-Playlist

Highway One/The Waifs
Tired of Being Sorry/Ringside
Dedicated Follower of Fashion/The Kinks
Loose Ends/Imogen Heap
Forever Lost/The Magic Numbers
Staring at the Sun/TV on the Radio
Fun For Me/Portishead & Moloko
Overground/Siouxsie & The Banshees
Black Tongue/Yeah Yeah Yeahs
Walking With A Ghost/Tegan and Sara
Blue Orchid/The White Stripes
Fake Sparkle or Golden Dust? Peter Murphy
Raining Next Door/Ringside
Heartbeats/Jose González
To Be Alone with You/Sufjan Stevens

All followed by the world's sexiest man or sexiest man alive or fucking whatever that mag voted him.

From this past Saturday to yesterday.

I lost my cold.  It just went away.  Very happy about that.

Odd.

Yet nice.

Honestly, why aren't people more observant?  Is it that they can't get past they're not young enough, their boyfriend doesn't treat them the way they think they should or perhaps why they haven't made it?

There is so much going on.  In everyone's life.  In that same Mexican dude I see at Fairfax and Sunset always around seven in the evening.  I know he has friends.  Perhaps even a hobby.  Perhaps he noticed the little girl smiling for no reason coming out of Rite Aid.  I hope he noticed.

I think if I took anything away from the torrent of turning pages that was my read of "I'm With The Band" by Pamela Des Barres.  You could be living in a shithole on Las Palmas – along with the 10 registered sex offenders on this street, I checked, I'm stupid – working with lonely fucks looking for five minutes of female closeness and taking drugs I've never even fucking heard of … you can still give Jimmy Page head whilst talking about Alistair Crowley, party with the Stones, ride around in limos and just generally party the fuck out of life.

And even in a drug-induced haze this woman remembered all these amazing things that went on around her.

I was at a party where she was being honoured with the launch of some fashion-tie-in – phrases from her book emblazoned on teeshirts.

After meeting her and seeing what kind of people she hang around … I had to know more.

At least it wasn't blacktie.  The weekend before.  I fucking hate wearing a suit.  Really.  Even the ones I have.  They're beautiful.  I should wear them more often.  But … jeans.  I love jeans.

I live in Los Angeles.

Anyway … so … I parked in an underground and was getting my gear out of the back.  A car screeches to a halt … I was getting the mace ready.  Mace is fun.  But not needed this time.  A kid gets out and says, "Are you a photographer?"

"No dumb fuck I just found this shit."

I wanted to say that.

But … I was in a good mood.  

He says, "I really need photos of my studio in North Hollywood."

I don't go to North Hollywood.

I don't have to.

Burbank.  The bank, yes.  

He stops right after that and says, "Oh, wait, you're too high end."

He read my fucking mind.

Odd.

Up the elevator.  Espresso.  I felt I'd need it for how bored I know I was going to be.

Yes, nice to see a few people but rather bored is how I knew I'd feel.

P3 to 1.  Right off the elevator and woman spies me, "Are you a photographer?"

"yes."

"we're doing a native American film festival upstairs, do you think you can cover it?"

"sure, I'll get right on it, not that my client tonight won't be pissed."  Again, that's want I was thinking.  I couldn't be that friggin' mean.

So … I say, "tell ya' what, call this guy I'm sure he'll help you out."

Proceeding to give the name of one of most well-known and established photographers in hollywood's mobile … "Tell him so-and-so told you to call."

Fucked up?  Yes.

I'll sleep.

Get my espresso and figure out that I forgot something in the car.  Back down.
In the friggin' elevator a guy says – whilst letting me see each side of his face – "which is my best side, YOU'RE a photographer."

I say, "that one, but you know that."

"Do you do headshots?"

"Do you do nudes?" I shoot back.

"With you, of course."

I proceeded to give him the mobile number of a photographer that thinks he's the biggest in Hollywood.

Fucked up?

You fucking bet.

But I laughed.

And I slept a lovely sleep.

Ya' know this playlist.  I think that I envisioned jumping in a car.  Maybe alone. Perhaps not.  And driving into the Mojave.  Perhaps visiting a strip joint and falling in love with a meth-addicted-stripper-single-mom.  Maybe running for mayor of a town populated only with trailer park inhabitants.  Maybe doing shrooms.  Or a couple peyote buttons.  And find yourself getting licked by a coyote.  And waking up wondering if it were all a dream or a trip or something.  And driving back.

So … I made it to the job to shoot a photography auction benefiting [link] founder owns a gallery and I showed at his gallery and our mutual friend asked me to do a favour.  Interesting.  I found that lesbian couples will always try to outbid the random Jewish guy in their bidding for solitaire female nudes.  The highest bidder on the HCB print of the little boy jumping in the puddle looked like he wore white pajamas.  He really thought he was the shit.

A friend of mine – very fabulous – says to me, "those kind of chicks hate fags because they can't ply them with their feminine wiles."  It's always interesting to find out the inner thoughts of people.  But … I kept this in mind.  

So … when one of "those kinds of girls" made her attempts with me.  I decided to play with her.  She saw who I was talking too a good portion of the night and probably thought I was "somebody" too.  When her "almost covert looks" didn't work she resorted to pinching my nipples when she walked by.

Chocolate won't like this.  But … I think she knows me pretty well.

I may not like the hypothetical, right, girl?

But …I'm game as it were.

The nipple grabber got her a look of disgust.

And I said, "think you can get me a drink?"

"I'm not a fucking waitress."
"I'm sorry, I thought you were."

I don't really know what her motive was the whole night but … I don't really care.

And who the fuck do I end up in elevator with on the way down from Room 64?

I love Room 64.

These walls talk.

I hear them.

No I wasn't on drugs.

But … if you're observant, you can hear.

And see for that matter.

But … miss-nipple-tweaking-I-need-attention says, "Do you shoot any porn?"

I knew she had that in her.  

"Fucking, eh, get out your phone bitch and take some digits."

As I proceed to give out yet another photographers name and number.

Again, I slept well that night.

How often, really, do you see Pee Wee Herman talking to Carmen Electra?  

Odd.

Next night was filled with all the "currently cool kids."  All of them.  Nick.  Jess. Nicole.  Cameron.  JT.  Spike.  Bruce and even Brad.  All in one place.  I never knew one of them had a penchant for drinking from the bottle of Jack and then using it as a faux-guitar.  

I was definitely smiling after this.  As much as I should have edited it myself.  I didn't.

*PAUSE – WENT AND SAW HARRY POTTER.  Bad bad script.  The acting was horrible.  I now reallyreallyreally hate the fantasy genre.  Adding that to sci-fi!*

I had to go clean up some coyote puke … because when I got home the night before I noticed that the bag of trash that I should have put in the actual bin.  Suffice it to say that coyote stomachs and thai pepper oil don't like each other much.  So it appears.

No work this past Saturday.  Hung out with my bitches.  I have two of them.  We sat next to someone's that supposedly one of a popular magazine's most sexy guys and his really fucking sexy girlfriend.  He eats tuna.  10 days straight.  Tuna from the can.  In a sandwich.  He explained to us all the different ways.

In fact, what the fuck did he have for dinner?

Tuna tar tar.

Very odd guy.  Makes me think "she's" just as strange.

Piece of advice:  Don't make fun of your mother's Thanksgiving cooking unless one wants to do it one's self.

Luckily, this is a light week.

Thanks ~nuozek for [link] is abso-fucking-lutely amazing.  LOVE IT!

Massage at eleven tomorrow.

*PAUSE*

The massage was great.  Ah ….

I hated to do it but … there were over 4,000 comments … daunting.  I hit the button.  Had to.

Well … again … people … thank you for the devwatches, faves, comments, print buying activity … everything.

Still looks like an easy week.

That makes me smile.

So does my dog when she smiles.

I hope everyone has a safe trip to where ever they're going (if you're U.S. residents) during the upcoming holiday.

congrats !micdt on the new ride!

Oh, yeah, check out … we aren't that rare around here.

And, as always, I hope this finds you all well!

Cheers from Los Angeles,


*off to the grocery store*

PLAYLIST - ALL MAZZY

Today I started a period of time where nothing was expected of me for twenty-four hours.  'twas so nice.

Even though that's over.

Okay … I was still expected to take a meeting today, get my hair cut and have coffee with a friend.

Other than that … really … nothing and … it felt so nice.

The coffee, though, as always, was quite enjoyable.  I asked the guy who cut my hair, "Do you know Hayley?"

"I think (so-and-so) does her hair.  I don't know-know her, but dude she's hot."

I thought a while.

I've never really looked at her as being hot or not hot.  

I just look at her as someone that I connect with on a soul-level.

There is probably no other person on this planet where any idea I come up with shocks her or she tells me it's stupid.  In fact, I don't think there's anyone else when I hear an idea – and they flow like a Sierra tributary in the Spring – that I think she's nuts.

She's a fashion designer.  She's a painter.  She's always creating.

Except when an employee gives a credit instead of charging someone.

Or when she's waiting for FEDEX.

Or when she's telling me to stay, "it'll just be a few minutes."

Which always turns into an hour.

But … I had nothing – really – to today.

"Fade Into You" … the video … from God-only-knows-how-long-ago … by Mazzy Star is so incredible on so many different levels.

That last missive about my soulful friend is going to be so misconstrued on so many different levels.

Oh well.

~lugerman pointed me in the direction of a blog: [link].

I read it.  This dude is so effing wrong.  I checked out his website – the first thing that catches my eye is that he's a "how to" author hawking his books.  In his blog he says that assisting is wrong.  Okay, if all you do is make stock photo imagery and landscape and material like that … sure … maybe you don't need an assistant.

I think he got rejected as an assistant.  Perhaps.  Dunno.  

Honestly, light is light is light.  How you make the light is pretty much the same if you're a fashion, commercial, celebrity portrait … whatever … kind of photographer.  As an assistant you get to learn your way around a set, see how the photographer interacts with the client, the crew, the cops.  Whatever.  It's totally invaluable.

I think homey wants you to buy his book and become a marginal stock photographer.  

Sounds like he has the "teacher mentality" of … well … I just think teachers – if they were exceptional – would probably be shooting commercially.

If you're going to flame me because of that last statement, trust me … I really don't give a rat's ass.

That said … well … I hire assistants from the film world … never aspiring photographers.

Yes, I got a chance from another photographer … but I'm not him.

I've been so damn busy … I don't even know where to start.

:dev cei-: was right … Tiger rocks.  It even seems faster to me.

Now … for the decision on the new machine.  Why?  I mean this 17" Powerbook has treated me so damn well.  Really well.  But … I'm pretty sure I'm switching to [link] damn cool.  It lacks some PS CS stuff but … I don't really manip photos.  Levels.  Cont.  A little curves.  Some clone-stamping.  Unsharp mask.  Lassos.  Other than that.  I don't care that PS CS offers a lot of stuff that it does.

As much as I'd love to have a twin dual processor … I'm mobile.  

A Powerbook does all I need.

I hear Leica's financials are looking better and better.  Good on them!  I'm very happy.  I knew that purchasing the 75/2.0 APO-ASPH would provide the turn-around.

I finished writing another article-slash-diatribe.  It took me two weeks.  It's long.  Totally at the expense of gray matter.  Just proof-reading it now.  Have it up one of these days.

The next will be about the lens and the muse.

After that … street photography and the rangefinder.

This current one?  I dunno what to effing call it … Ode to a Leica.  I know … I'll be flamed for being a pretentious Leica-user.  Again, I don't effing care.  Seriously.

This past week I was at the Chateau Marmont.  During a break … I sat in the lobby with some friends and ate pomme frites.  Then some Rissoto balls.  And a coke.  Amazing place this is.  I saw an actress-friend – one that made me more money on one friggin' photo than any other – and I'm worried.  She smelled like metabolized alcohol.  Through expensive perfume, of course.  Not like she went out drinking last night and was hung over but the smell of someone that drank for the last week.  Hard.  I saw the daughter of an aging rocker looking like she needed to be consoled quite badly.  And … she was with a "possie."  They don't care about their ticket "to the life"?  Feel bad for her.  The most fun was watching a fake-boobed icon and her celebrity photographer buddy look at digital contact sheets.  No … I'm sorry the most lame fucking thing (shit I said fuck) … after reading lolly's missive about profanity I thought I should cut back on my judicious use of the word fuck but … whatever.

Ban the ambassador, bitch.

Banned any ambassadors Point?  Hmm…

Anyway … the lead singer of a I don't know what to call his group.  Easy listening rock, perhaps.  He paraded around the lobby with his fucking dog.  Nice dog, don't get me wrong.  But the dog was tied with a scarf as a leash.  Homie was so trolling for chicks.

If I were a rockstar I don't think I'd need a fucking dog to get fucking laid, right?

Lame.

If found out that another of my little actress friends has ulcers.  Bad ones.

Then again, the thing about actresses is … they're always fucking acting.  So … who knows.

When I saw her writhing in pain I asked if I could do anything for her.

She smiled and was genuinely impressed that I cared.

Then … like a mercurial actress … she disappeared into the Chateau.

The Chateau Marmont is my favourite place in Los Angeles.

Room 64,

If you've never been there, you're missing out.

Then again, most will never get past the security at the door.

Much less with a camera.

I know it's time to shoot some personal stuff.  Not like personal stuff I do every day.  Like today, there is the sweetest Hispanic girl.  Mayra.  At Taco Bell.  Amazing eyes.  Smile.  I did her portrait whilst handing me a nachos supreme.  Vegans be damned.

Not really.  I don't wish damnation on anyone.

But … I've enlisted the help of two fabulous art directors for my idea.  Tomorrow I'm starting the commissioning of the props.

No, I'm not telling what it's going to be.

Not what a certain world expects from me for damn sure.

It won't even be posted here as I'm sure some of the talent will put restrictions on the use.

Cameras as daggars.
A red carpet coloured not from dye.

Perhaps some jock-straps.

That got the interest of the fabulous duo that I enlisted.

Should be interesting.

Imagine asking huge designers, "I'd love to use some of your stuff.  I mean … it's not like you're going to get it back in the form you gave it to me so … I'll need to get a waiver for damage."

Amazingly, a few didn't tell me to fuck off.

I like productions.

Maybe I missed my calling.

I blew the amp for the speakers for my Mac.  Destroyed in less than 2 weeks!

So … I'm relegated to listening to the Ipod through my home stereo speakers.  Not that it's bad.  The head unit and speakers are amazing.  In all actuality, I'm enjoying listening to them.  

I love my couch.

It's like a friend I don't get to see very often.

A warm friend.

A friend that's nice to sit on.

Just kidding.

I don't usually sit on my friends.

So … no religion … no guns … no politics in this edition.  Dunno why.

I'm still on a news friggin' moratorium.  Haven't turned on the Sirius news "channel bank" in the car.  Only the new Ipod.

Apple really really really hit it out of the park with this bitch.

So … again … thanks so much for the comments … the faves … the pageviews … the devwatches.  Yes, I read every single friggin' one.  I promise.  Notes … they're still my bane.  I get so many it's friggin' crazy.  I may not respond but I read everything.  Swear.

Hope everyone has an amazing weekend.  I'm going to [link] tomorrow night.  Nice relaxing weekend.  I'm not even sure I'll "show my face" at my clubhouse.  

Christmas shopping in NYC or Paris?  Or even Rome?  Dunno yet … but I'm deciding.

As always … I hope this finds you all very very well!

Cheers from the land of those that want the headshot that will change their lives,

Playlist whilst writing this:

Indigo Eyes – Peter Murphy
New Tale to Tell – Love & Rockets
Ziggy Stardust (cover) – Bauhaus
Fashion – David Bowie
Forever Lost – The Magic Numbers (thanks Shana!)
The Sky's Gone Out – Brian Eno with Bauhaus
Cuts You Up – Peter Murphy
Hit Rock Bottom – Dandy Warhols
Stix & Stones - Peter Doherty & Carlos Barât
Durch den Monsun – Tokio Hotel
I Am Over It – Dandy Warhols

Halloween.  Never been my favourite.  Dunno why.  I mean … It's my favourite because my daughter love, love, loves it.  This was the first one where she and her little friends went by themselves.  Autonomy.  I know it feels nice.  Armed with empty bags and flashlights.  Interestingly, they all came back to the house we all met at … about three times.  

To check in on us.

Very cute.

They were fifties girls replete with poodle dresses.

I sat with two mothers and we talked about how fortunate we were that they were all friends.  Tight friends.  Hopefully, friends that stick together for a very long time.

My hair guy on my team … I've known him since I was 11.

It's possible.

I hope for them.

I don't hope for the Bush administration.  The first link in the chain.  Indicted.  I think many more will come down the pipeline.  Sad thing for our country.  This country feels different.  Apathetic.  Looking the other way.  Looks like "cheap gas" has come back.

So … I hear that a certain blonde actress – pixie-cute and prim and proper – wasn't into the Halloween party she attended – without her husband, I may add – when the naked dancer chicks started writhing around.  She put on an eye mask when someone noticed her.  The host of the party – formerly in a band but now doing music for "the industry" – well, his wife, she dressed up as Jesus.  I think that's in horrible taste.

Yeah, I'm a religious fundamentalist.

You didn't fucking know?



Whilst all of the Halloween parties were going on … I was shooting the MySpace.com 2nd Anniversary Concert.  Tom is a very nice guy – just so you all know.  Dashboard Confessional.  Why are they popular?  Dunno.  There were friggin' people crying and singing.  I don't get it.  All American Rejects.  Why are they popular?  I don't get that one either.

Don't people understand that these kinds of groups are created just like Nabisco creates a new snack cake?  Focus groups.  Taste tests.  Insipidness.  Is that a word?

What's the fuck count?

When I'm around my baby's suburban friend's mothers … the fucks don't come out like a tempestuous stream.

Shit does, though.

Apple really really really hit it out of the park with the Ipod with video.  I'm amazed.  Jobs for president.

I know he could do a better job than that monkey-eared moron that's got his ass planted in the office right now.

Anyone could do a better job.

I'm still – besides the indictment information – on a news moratorium.  Enough fucking hurricanes.  Enough.  Play-by-play of a fucking hurricane?  Assholes from the Nabisco-like news networks standing in wind and rain?  Who the fuck watches that?

I don't get it.

There's a lot I don't get.

I just make photos.

And raise a well-adjusted little girl.

Who's doing much better in math.

I talked to her math teacher.  Her son is an underwater camera operator!  I don't know that kind of work but appreciate how hard it must be to "make it," as it were.  Parents that coddle any dream of their respective kids have all of my respect.

Only school was pushed down my throat but they – mine – supported anything I wanted to do.

Honestly, I think the most amount of notes I get – and am usually loathe to respond to because of time – are those saying, "How'd you get into it?" or "How do you make it as a photographer?"

Just so you guys know … most of the people that I know who've made it in the commercial sense are self-taught or came up thru the ranks as assistants.  I think school tends to push out cookie cutter photographers with a style that's not their own.  I know that there are diamonds in the rough.

Isn't it true that most people go through a "photography phase" not unlike a girl's "horse phase"?

I know many talented photographers.  The kind that get an assignment here and there and will never "make it."  Why?  Making the photo is only a part of the equation.

If you're shy, you ain't gettin' in the door.  You gotta have balls.  

You have to sell-out a bit.

I think that most people have no idea what the competition is like.  Most of these types are the ones that think they're going to do "high concept."  How many David La Chapelle's are there really?

Sure, you can be a professional but that includes school portraits, industrial, that kinda shit.  Like they say in used car sales, "There's an ass for every seat."

It's about relationships.  More than anything else.  It's about being easy to work with.  It's about being put in any situation and "making the fucking photo."

A gazillion pageviews doesn't mean shit.  Just so you know.

I strongly suggest to anyone that wants to have a chance to make it, to assist.  Not for me, mind you, my team is full.  I get a lot of questions about that as well.

I also get a lot of requests for portfolio reviews.  I've done a few but most people can't take criticism so I stopped.

Going to wars was never really something I wanted to do.  There are the Morris' … the Nachtwey's … you don't get rich doing this … just so you know.  I'm glad Christopher and James do what they do.  Knowing full-well they'd never be driving a hummer and married to a fake-breasted blonde addicted to happy-pills.

They allow me to see a world I wouldn't normally get to see.

I prefer the more shallow worlds to … lend my eyes as it were … a world that is almost as foreign as a foreign war or conflict or whatever.

Knowing I'm "comin' home" is much more important to me.  Raising a daughter is much more important.

So … I … lend my eyes to the world that prefers photos of Mischa and Lindsay and fashion and Nicole over what's really going on.  Notice I forgot Paris?  I asked an editor at a weekly, "When are we done with her?"

"Not too soon.  The focus groups want even more."

So … actress … model … photographer … put out a sex tape and anyone can make it in anything..   Almost true here as well … show some skin … get some pageviews.  No?

Switching to Tiger tomorrow.

`cei- says it's cool so it must be.

Can I just tell you how much I love jockeying my hard drive archive?  Which, of course, is not on just one drive.  It's on 8.  I'm paranoid.  Not to mention the other two copies residing in both a remote location in a fireproof safe in addition to the other copy that just resides.

Tomorrow I'm also getting a new 7200 rpm internal hard drive.  120gb.  I live on a Powerbook.

Work.

Life.

Everything.

No matter what the Mac-haters say … Macs are still cooler.

My one external hard drive (250gb) is for dumping the "just shot" RAW's.  Suffice it to say that I haven't been into burning DVD's lately.  Nor burning the "putting-off-to-purchase-DVD's" … so … when I saw 30gb remaining.

Another task for tomorrow.

Just for this past fashion week alone I shot 40gb of images.

That's 10 dvd's to burn.

See … it's really not the talent.  It's really not the networking and making and maintaining the ever-important relationships.  It is … but it isn't.  It's the work-flow issues.  Pre-shoot.  Whilst shooting.  Post-shoot.  And then archiving.

All work.

I feel like an eye-tee person sometimes.  I dunno if that's what I want to feel like.

No pocket protector.

No endless subscriptions to teen porn.

But … lots of data to move around.  

This made me laugh: [link]

This is a guy that definitely needs to subscribe to some porn!

But he probably already does.

NEXT DAY – PLAYLIST – ALL MAZZY STAR

I slept until 13.00 … no computer upgrades today.  

Thanks to ~griff-flyer I was introduced to the work of ~lloydhughes  … very nice stuff.  Love the style.

From ~lloydhughes I found ~agatha-katzensprung … all from one click … initiated by the suggestion of ~griff-flyer

That's why I love this place.  One of the reasons.  I mean … one click and I have no idea what I'm going to find.

Sometimes … beyond some hater spewing bullshit … it's the gift … of art …

For us all … to brighten our days … and makes us see something through the eyes of someone we didn't know before.

Seeing both of these styles … and listening to Mazzy …

Wow …

Honestly … it's the small things.

Like my daughter's erudition …

Or the smile on my dog's face.

Like getting the random IM from `northengirl about this: [link].

Congrats love!  I always knew you knew what the hell you were doing.  You do.  Better than people that probably tell you how to make photos.

Ya' know … I wish I could respond to every note, comment, comment on my page … all that.  Just so you know I read everything.  I cannot respond to everything.  'twould be impossible to say the very least.  I am appreciative … and … most of you put a smile on my face.  The others … they get deleted or ignored.

Having had a couple days to chill … I've been around here more often.  DD'in' like a mofo.  I'm up to 15 November.

Sometimes this place almost seems like a vacation from the craziness.

In fact!  Having just a couple days to have nothing expected from me – beyond the emails and voicemails and calls I actually take – feels like a vacation.  I just didn't have to sit on plane for 10 hours.

Everyone … thank you so much for devwatches, the faves, the comments (replied or not, but ALWAYS red) … for the experience.  All-in-all it's all good.

Hope this finds all of you very very well.

Cheers from Los Angeles,


JUST AS I WAS DOING AN APPLE-A … I get this in the form of a note:

MY DD COMMENT:  Wargames by *Corvi I like how this deviant focused on the gun and not the boy. I think it says much more that way. It seems as though the boy is more of an adjunct to the photo. At that age I only got a bb gun what I would have given for one of those.  

NOTE TO ME:  I think your comment "At that age I only got a bb gun what I would have given for one of those.  " Is a bit insensative to the strong emotion in the image. It's poking fun about kids with guns. I don't think poking fun at a kid with a real gun is wise, it's a serious issue rather than fun. With all the violence, and young kids shooting other young kids. I think your comment is rude.   That's just me.

NOTE BACK: please.

i was taught by a grandfather who was an experienced hunter. i deserved more than a plinking bb gun when i was 8. i know more about firearms safety than ANYONE you know ... and .. i have from a very very young age.

i can also flyfish.

and tie knots on a boat.

thanks for the concern, though,
cheers from the gun-loving blue state that is california,
chris

Try under-active parents, violent video games, televised professional (term used loosely) wrestling, the Bush admin's love affair with fear … that's what's wrong.  Guns aren't wrong.  People are wrong.  Yes, I'm a liberal.  Just so you know.

Off to the shower and then the city.

It's the breakfast of champions.  Not that I know.  I just associate the three – with the occasional hummus thrown in for good measure – with fashion week.

Why?

Because.

Final night.  Although … I'm sure this won't get posted for a day or so.

I need to come up for air.

Ran into – quite literally -- `melodymaker last night at a fashion-show-cum-extravaganza … oh … my …

Where else does one see Katie Holmes with Victoria Beckham?  Dunno.  There I guess.

I'm rocking some Faint on the new desktop system.  If you don't have one, go buy one.  I got mine for free but I can wholly endorse this [link] Harmon Kardon.  This has to be the best 2.1 computer-oriented sound system ever made on a mass scale.  I don't need surround for my fucking computers.  Who needs that?  Then again, I don't sit here and masturbate over fucking video games.

Who's gonna do the "fuck" count on this one?  Get out your pencil.

Point:  you out of a fucking hole yet?   The weather's quite nice here.

So … `melodymaker papped my ass.  "Pap," you say?  No … not the kind one has to get in the stirrups for.  Papp'ed in the context of being "paparazzi'd."  She did.  

I could have papped last night.  A major international celebrity – who's married to someone even bigger on a different scale – got booted last night.  Hilarious.  Yes, these photos would have been worth US$10,000.  But … I don't do that.  I'm an invited "guest with a camera."  One can go for the fast money but that's the only money one will ever see.

Like the daddy bull said to the little bull, "don't run down there and fuck one cow; walk down and fuck 'em all."

Not that that's the impression one would get if they drove in my urban – and suburban, depending on the day – assault vehicle.

But, yes, walk down.

Fuck 'em all.

Some little neophyte claimed that "I'm mean."  Dude, get the fuck over yourself.  Just know if you're going to leave some fucked up comment about a DD and I see that you obviously can't shoot your way out of a paper-fucking-bag, um, I'm not going to be nice.

Quid-pro-fucking-quo.

I didn't have to do as much fashion week as I normally do.  One client "bought" three days of my life.  Not to say I didn't go cover my favourite publicists and their clients shows if I was able.

I love models.

They're so much more interesting than actresses.

I think they read books, too.

In fact, I know they do.

Wonder if my neighbors like "The Faint"?  Perhaps not.

I do.

What a trippy few days it's been.  18 hour days.  2 hours of "my life" and then sleep.

It's almost like running a marathon – not that I advocate doing anything so banefully stupid – and hitting the proverbial wall.

There's almost a clarity.

Almost.

So … another … sorry … I'm fucking mean … neophyte was like, "I know your people photos are good but if you had any talent you'd shoot landscapes.  That's where the real talent is."

Ya' know … dickhead … I've seen Ansel Adams' stuff exhibited.  Sorry.  Don't agree.

Go away.

I'm not saying Mr. Adams – God bless his soul – is untalented in the least.

Put him with talent and an anal-retentive passive-aggressive publicist and see-the-fuck-what-happens.

Snapshot.

Trust me.

Even though "trust me" in Hollywood is the equivalent of "Fuck you."

What's the count?

I tend to use that word a lot when I'm deliriously spent.  Okay … I lied.  I use it all the fucking time.

There is this switch, though, that flips off when I'm around my daughter.  Thank you.

I know you were wondering.

I let her say mother-fucker though.

Her mom hates it.

Yes, I'm kidding.

Why don't you litter my homepage with "you bad father, you shitty dd picking bad father."  Please do.

'twould be funny.

In all actuality some of you people make me laugh.

Who the fuck drinks espresso at 2.30a?

I do.

Love it.

I get a fucking headache if I don't.

I actually wake-the-fuck-up in the middle of the night and make a Bialetti full of Kimbo (white package as the gold medal sucks ass).

No I don't.

I love these speakers.  My God.  I think I want another set for the bedroom.  My bedroom.

I've been advised that I do not need any more jeans for the rest of my life.

Is that possible?

Hmm….

I'll talk to my therapist about it.

I heard that line this week.

Twice.

I don't have a therapist.

I did once.

A marriage therapist.  Had a background dossier pulled on her.

She was married four fucking times.

And she and her fat ass are going to give me fucking advice?

I stopped payment on the check and told her to sue me.

And she was referred to me by the head of the psychiatry program at a major university.

I think all those people are fucking nuts.  I mean that's what my friend ZZ tells me about those that go to med school to become shrinks.

Nothing like self-medication.
I remember going to dinner with ZZ and an associate of his.  A shrink.  She forgot her mobile and asked to use mine.  I obliged.  Thirty fucking minutes later she's still on it.  I told her she needed to use a payphone.  She told me that a non-physician wouldn't understand what her patient was going thru.

I grabbed the phone and said, "Blame it on your overprotective mother and your drunk father."

She gave me the look of death.

I flipped her a quarter and said, "Use a fucking payphone you freak."

Mean, huh?

Like I care.

Nice doesn't pay the bills.

*TWO DAY BREAK BETWEEN EDITS*

Was it three days?  Perhaps.

Having been busy is an understatement.

For some of what I did check out:

[link]
[link]
[link] (my favourite of the week)

Busy.

But I got to hang out with the Olsen twins and Lindsay.  A lot of other friends and an amazing photographer [link]

What else?  Like I fucking need something else, right?

Oh … this complete moron notes me, "you're pathetic, you have no talent, you're a paparazzi."

Catch a fucking clue.

All over a DD?  This idiot is going to lambaste me – try at least for he did a horrible job – over my choice of a dd?  Puhlease.

Get a life asshole.

Go make photos.  Then again, from looking at your gallery I guess that's not really an option.

Ah … so nice to be sitting at home.  It feels nice.  And, yes, I had another salad.  A friend of mine is wary of guys that eat salads.

Ya' know when you're around a bunch of chicks that eat carrot sticks and cocaine … it starts getting to you.  I don't think I'm fat nor even overweight but … it starts like making one think.

I'll have In-n-Out tomorrow!

And I'll smile knowing I'm chewing the muscle of a formerly friendly bovine.

Yes, a busy week.  I keep saying next week won't be busy.  I want to jump on a plane and go see some other culture besides what's here in la-la-land-of-the-shallow.

I am happy, though, that school is going well for my little girl.

I'm happy that my ex found her diamond that came out of her setting at a party-slash-fashion-show that my daughter was in.  The designer found it.  Glimmering in the corner.

The one I gave her was bigger though.

Her words.

Not mine.

Not that it matters.

Girls who want diamonds are what's wrong with the world.

Not in the same context as how the Bush administration is wrong.

A simple band is all that is needed.

I think.

Then again, I'm not for the feint of heart.  Right, choco-love?

I'm of the objective-oriented-mindset.  Point knows.

Who's choco and point? You'll never know.

They may not even exxxist.



Okay … a nice book, a popsicle and a warm bath await.

As does a busy-ass day.

Oh, yeah, our little new clubhouse is working out quite nicely … we're all very happy about it.  I'd tell you where it is … but … for the haters … you don't get to know.

Fuck the haters.

My God did Apple hit one out of the park with the new 60gb Ipod with video!!!!!!!!!  I've been playing with it all day.  Even whilst driving.  If the suburban bitches in their suburbans high on happy drugs can talk shit about their BFF's ... I can play with the Ipod!

Love the people that make this community a fucking amazing-ass place.  You know who you are.  Thank you guys (both genders included in reference) for the comments, the 250,000 pageviews, the faves, the notes, the dd suggestions (the good, the bad, the fugly).

I hope this finds all of you very very very well.

Cheers from Los Angeles,


p.s., thanks for the brikka tip!  fucking rocks out with it's cock out!

EDIT:  p.p.s., this was just post by bookla.com as well [link]

i'm not going to say who sent me this.  i don't do this.  may be taking away their credit but i'd err on the side of not naming someone:  

[link]

one of my european friends -- after i sent the link via email -- responded with "Truly…I would be ashamed…" and an american friend responded "Why on earth would you move you cracker ass closer to the city...wow seriously though, there are some fucked up morons in our country...If you can't tell you asshole from a hole in the ground...guess what mutha fucker....no more babies and voting....pieces of shit."

i can't imagine what people around this bucolic suburb would say.  my God.

i guess -- after viewing that video -- okay, no, i've met warmongering freaks that really think this about "liberation" (term used loosely).  but ... these people in this video, my God.

i know ... it was edited a certain way.

not only ... looks like it was shot in venice, calif.  dunno, though.  i was just dumbfounded.

well ... i'm happy.  nothing is expected of me for twenty-four (24) hours.  isn't that  a good feeling point?

sushi.

can't wait.

first, though, time to pick up my baby.

think i'll show her the video as well.

hope everyone has a great weekend.  i work. but ... i get these hours and i'm happy about it.

cheers from los angeles,

Instead of the "song" I'm listening to … and writing down what it changes to … here's a list.

Posed To Death/The Faint
The Grand Apartment/Louis XIV
Somewhere Else/The Futureheads
Death Of A Clown/The Kinks
Golden Touch/Razorlight
Paranoiattack/The Faint
No Breaks/The Bravery
Evil/Interpol
Desperate but Not Serious/Adam Ant
Animal Machine/The Vines
Who Are You/The Who
Baby, Oh No/Bow Wow Wow
Bye Bye Love/The Cars
We Used To Be Friends/The Dandy Warhols
Love School/Divinyls
Hate to Say I Told You So/The Hives
Long Way Down/Pete Yorn
I Want It All/Queen
House Of The Rising Sun (cover)/Pink Floyd

I mean, fuck, what are they trying to say?  It should take one song to writing a fucking journal?  Who are they anyway?  

First off, I feel bad.  I haven't been able to respond to comments, faves, notes, IM's, etc., etc., like I have in the past.  Why?  It really boils down to the fact I am extremely, extremely busy.  Crazy busy.  I want to respond much more than I do.  What I can't do is create time.  Even the minimal time I'm on dA, which is about forty-five minutes per day, it's difficult.

I'm happy about my new boom, though.  I had no idea they had big-ass tubes with wooden – 2 inches thick – plugs at each end.  How the hell do they expect a photographer to know how to wrangle the shit out of said shipping tube?  Let's just say I bent a screw driver.

Dunno where the new beauty dish is.  

And it's funny.  New "strobe equipment" and I fucking hate shooting with it.  I mean, yes, I'm thankful that I'm able to use such amazing stuff but … I just noticed it so fucking kills the moment.  Flash is so damned contrived.

Thank God for bright-ass modeling lamps …

And Arri 1000w's.

Film.  Digital.  Polaroid.  Whatever just looks so much better ambient.

That being said, I decided to "commission" a new overhead butterfly scrim – with a 2 stop synthetic silk as my primary diffusing device although it can be used to bounce and reflect – made from 1" titanium box tube.  I could buy it from Matthews.  But … they're supplying a couple of the parts.  Still haven't decided if I'm going 20x20 feet.  'twould be nice.

Break.  I was hungry since I got home.  Organic butter lettuce.  Blue cheese.  Blue cheese-viniagret.  Candied walnuts.  Croutons.

Very nice.

Shot a celebrity surfing competition during the Rip Curl Malibu Pro this weekend [link] .   Don't really shoot surfing that much – if at all.  Borrowed a 600mm/4.0L … that bitch is sharp.  My God!  I was shocked.  AV'd it f/8 and Wow!  Instead of posting one of the photos, I think the link will suffice.

Still waiting for my embattled go-to lens … my 35 'lux.  She's still in Germany, dammit.  Not that I'm minding using the 35 'cron.  Very nice lens.  I miss that extra stop though.  Not to mention the bokeh.

I cannot believe how much I've been shooting.  These really were supposed to be a couple weeks where I could work on some personal stuff.  Thank God for the Leicas … they really do show me why I do "this" for a living.  Instead of some down-time … well … I've been shooting gigs and gigs of images.

As much as I hate putting archived RAWS I'm burning to DVD so many gigs it really doesn't seem like it's ending.

I think I have a couple days off … pretty sure at least.  Declined something for tomorrow.  And … perhaps … I will get the sorely needed massage!  Well … it's my schedule and the fact my massage therapist – God love her – is a bit on the flakey side.  And … in love.  

Point … get your ass out to L.A.   I thought you had "pull."

After shooting the Rip Curl thingy on Saturday I got completely "sweated" by our local law enforcement.  They say, "your seatbelt wasn't on" and I say, "I was adjusting it."  That turned into a cursory search.  A 25 minute wait.  An inspection of my engine.  An inspection of the catalytic converter all the way to the muffler.  They measured.  The shined flashlights thru my windows.  Ask all sorts of questions.

I got a fix-it ticket for the windows.  They also said, "they won't sweat me for the obvious modifications to my emissions systems."

Bastards.

The "trainee" that "head dickhead" was trying to impress … was the biggest prick I've ever met.

Then again, I was on the phone the whole time.

Okay, well, my finishing comment was, "And … you guys didn't even find the nitrous bottle."

I got a laugh out of them.

Thank God this wasn't a moving violation.

God knows I don't need another one.

Ask my insurance company, who said, today, "…. Speeding tickets lead to accidents."

Let's hope not.

Then there was today.  It was busy.  Ordered new tires.  Assholes pointed out that I was almost violating the code for that too.  I ordered the same tires and my tire guy said, "dude … the rears aren't illegal but they're hammered.  Umm … aren't they only 10 months old.  I know it hasn't been a year."

I drive a toy.

Sorry.

It's fun as fuck.

That's fun too.

But … today … I knew that I hadn't gotten anything in b/w on Charlize.  It pays to have some friends at studio publicity departments.  

Two Leicas.

One Canon.

All ambient.

No shit flash.

I've met her many times inside parties.  Whether or not I was there making photos she's always been cool.  She showed up tonight with a mutual friend – and photographer – when he and I hugged I saw that she watched this.  I got the most amazing stuff on her tonight.  

There are 75 friggin' photographers shouting.  Video crews.  Fans.  Publicists.  Studio people … and … I felt like I had my own session with her.

Cannot wait to see the four rolls I blew thru tonight.

Wednesday … as I am not going near Hollywood until then.

Until then … I'm going to hole-up in my canyon.  Wait for my massage therapist.  And chill.  Hang out with my baby.  Pick up my dog – actually, my daughter's dog, but I knew it would be like this – from my parents.  Watch some gymnastics – my daughter is aspiring to be a gymnast.  She loves it.

Tuesdays are a treat for her.

Then again, any time I'm around … I see it in her eyes.  Her beautiful brown eyes.

I see them in my mind all the time.

For … really … that's all that really matters.

She's in a fashion show this weekend.  She was fitted … along with Ione Skye's daughter … a bunch of models … and her beautiful brown eyes were all big.  I like her to see my world.

My friend – the fashion designer – has naked fairies painted all over her boutique.  I wonder what she thought.

Rehearsal for her on Friday.

Big big show for her on Saturday.

Not that I want my daughter to ever have the diet of carrot sticks and cocaine … but … it'll be interesting nonetheless.

This weekend rings in Fashion Week for Spring '06.  A very busy week for me.  More busy than normal because I lean towards fashion rather than entertainment.

In my opinion LA Fashion Week … is not Milan … definitely not NYC … wholly not Paris …

But … what the fuck.

I love to photograph.

I love getting the chills.

From both making photographs and hearing my daughters newest erudition.

So … yes … guys … girls … everyone … whilst I may not be responding as much … I am definitely reading.  And … always thanking you guys for everything.  Especially for what makes this community so damn unique and cool.

Yes, the contest is coming along as `Ghouldaddy is helping out with the organization.  I like the poll method.  That way EVERYONE can help hone the judge's own picks.  That format rocks.  I know I've participated in others … that … seem so convoluted.

~londn is rockin' some new Zeiss glass on his M6!  Hope he's got enough film.

So … hope everyone's week is off to a good start.

Cheers from Los Angeles all,


UPDATE:  check out [link] for more of the coverage of the "north country" premiere last night.  patrick did an amazing job.

The Topanga fire moved on.  My hills are Mars-like – not that I've been to Mars – but they're all ashen and grey and black.  The smell remains.  A bad barbeque in the 760.  Perhaps the 909.  My cars are still dirty.

But … it didn't get our asses.

I head it's out.

I've been a bit anti-news lately.  Bush makes another fucking trip to shore up support with "his base."  Roberts get nominated.  Dunno … I guess when I'm busy I don't give a flying fuck.  When I'm bored I care.

Not that it seems as though any of us can do anything about it.

I did take some fire crew from Lomita, Calif. a case of water.

Chocolate is seeing Neil Diamond tonight.

I'd need acid.

Not that I ever have needed it.

Not that I'd know.

I'm just surmising.

Could two friggin' Canon digi-bodies be taking their respective toll on my right shoulder?  Dunno.  But it sure friggin' feels like it right now.

(song change Mad World / Tears for Fears)

Thank you EVERY-FRIGGIN-ONE for the well-wishes about the fire that I can still smell.

Even though it's gone.

Funny how one may smell things and hear things when they're gone.

The "Behind the Lens" thingy.  Very interesting.  'twas a lot of fun.  Thank you `Ghouldaddy for putting it together.  It was not unlike – the pre-production, at least – like a well-run event in Hollywood.  You did well mate.  And … everyone else, as well.

"I find it kinda funny; I find it kinda sad; the dreams in which I'm dying are the best I've ever had."

I always liked the falling ones.

The assassins never really get that close.  Never.  *knocking on desk*

I think the guys from Tears for Fears need more therapy.

So … directly and straight away after the BTL (not a sandwich but should be) … I drove to the desert.  Palm Desert.  I honestly felt like I was part of a bad fucking reality show.
A friend I made on a film set a few years ago and I still stay in contact.  We refer each other jobs.  He referred me to a woman – a boutique owner who knew way too many people I knew in the equestrian world – who wanted a new ad shot.  I don't know this woman from Eve.  Right?

She wanted a sexy photo with her and two 20 year old boys.  She's significantly older.

All the girls in the 760 wear sequins.

Anyway … I get to the location.  It's a club.  A cheesy-ass club that I wouldn't go to if they comp'd me for a week.

The designer-slash-part-owner immediately says to me, "I want her on a couch on the bar and I want the entire background to show up."  I start laughing at him … I said, "Well … that's not possible.  This is an editorial shoot of a female subject and two male props.  Not only is there NOT enough room from the bar to the bulkhead but it's unsafe and I won't jeopardize the talent's (term used loosely) safety."

"What do you mean it's too dark.  I have another photographer.  He brings lights."

He obviously didn't see the 2400 WS of Hensel strobe.

I said, "Good call that motherfucker, I'm out of here you piece of shit.  Who the fuck do you think you are; you're in the fucking desert for Christ's sake."

I thought he was going to hit me.

So … I start packing away the strobes.  Laughing to myself.

He starts going fucking nutz, "We need this shot."

"Then why aren't you on the fucking phone calling your other guy.  By the way,  what part of 'Shut the fuck up didn't you understand?  I don't work with idiots like you."

He walks away.

Some other guy walks up.  Forget his name.  Like I'd remember.

He says, "I heard you use profanity; I don't appreciate it; I'd prefer if you'd not use it."

To which I made the remark, "Bro, who invited the reborns to my shoot.  Go tell Queen-boy (not that I have anything against queens as several are my close friends) I'm the fucking boss on shoots.  Yeah, I just said fuck."

He leaves.

Now the woman that arranged this comes up, "I understand NAME is a bit hard to work with.  But … lets just take a step back and we'll make this work.  We're all talented and we're artists."

I'm like, "you're kidding, that guy's a fucking freak and I don't give a fuck if he owns this fucking place.  I'm going to go hang out with some friends.  Make out the check to Chris Weeks."

She signed a pay-or-play contract.

Asshole apologized to which I said, "no go somewhere and leave us alone."

Screw him.

I seriously thought there were cameras following this guy.  He was such a dramatic little bitch that I couldn't believe anyone could possibly act that way without some other purpose.

The shoot was absolutely hilarious.

There will be no photos posted here.

I don't think, at least.

My friend and I looked at the photos at dinner.  She got what she needed.

I know it makes me sound like an asshole.  What's funny is that I just don't care.

My friend laughed his ass off at what I told him because he said this club owner is notorious for being difficult.  He called three of his friends to tell them what happened.  Most in the service industry won't piss off this guy because he owns and has owned several clubs out there and no one wants to be banned.

I hope he bans me.

I'm sure he has.

The sign in the bathroom said, "Dress Code:  No ripped jeans.  Dress shirts only.  No sandals.  No pocket watches."

Well … I was wearing [link] and [link] which don't really conform any way.

Like I want to date strippers in sequin tops.  

I'm sure the desert has others but they all seem to have fake breasts and three-seasons old Louis Vuitton's.

Looks like another busy week.  And another after that.  

I so wanted to leave for a while.  I'd planned the last week of October and the first week of November and now … I have so much to do.

Oh well.  

When I was meeting my friend that referred the hell-shoot with queen-boy-that-thinks-he's-cool he was wrapping up a video shoot at a restaurant.  When I got there I immediately recognized the manager and chef as they used to work at the Regent in BH.  Small-ass world.  They invited us to dinner – making the kitchen stay open later than they wanted I'm sure.  

So … even though I had to deal with that ass and shoot something that I can now say, "I've really seen it all," we ended up getting comp'd at one of the nicest places in Palm Springs.

To that end … we walked around … with a friend of his …
And were serenaded by a homeless man on two keyboards.

And offered drinks by another homeless man, "This is the best shit you can get for US$11."

I gave him a twenty and said to go look for something different for tomorrow night.

Tipped the keyboardist who took our requests for about 2 rolls of film.  He jammed the MJ and Rick James.

Another trippy visit to the desert.

One last thing … when I'm shooting I say some crazy shit … one of the guys I assisted back in the day used to yell – which I do once in a while – and I was thinking of what to say to get "a look."  Usually, it's like "imagine I'm this guy at a bar you really want; fuck me with your eyes."  This time I said, "imagine I'm like some seventy year old guy, you really want and you know he's ready to drop dead and leave you millions."

I got a blank stare.

But I laughed.

Again, and as always, thank you all for the devwatches, fave's and comments.  You are what make my participation in dA totally worth the time and effort.

Even those that think I'm a profiteer.

Cheers all … from la-la land,

the glow.  not the kind after sex.

the kind that's eminating from the fire burning in my hills and mountains.  i went to bed after making this photo .  ~Trueblood just called to say i could sleep on his couch tonight if they decide to evacuate my neighborhood.

pretty eerie.

part of rocketdyne is burning.  they test rocket engines about 15 miles from me.

um ... pretty much many of the my neighbors have been friggin' evacuated.

i'm watching people i know from my local starbucks being interviewed on the t.v.

that's odd.

i just heard on t.v., "i'm on whitecloud lane.  a part ... where are we? ... of north ranch ... there are million dollar homes ... several million dollar homes ... there are powerlines down ..."

i live in north ranch.

this is odd.

i'd have to think that this firey bitch would have to burn a lot of shit to get to me.

hmm...

well ... i have shoots today.  no time for a fire.

i'll have my sister check in on my place during the day.

a call from a publicist today, "i know there's a fire or something, but do you think i could get the images from the shoot the other day?"

sure.

right on it.

as usual.

no need to worry about my place ... i don't think.  i mean ... it's getting really difficult to breathe as the smoke is getting a bit thick.

perhaps i'll go into the studio and los angeles early today.

but first a shower.

and coffee, dammit.

hope everyone's well!

cheers all,
chris

p.s., on saturday, october 1, 2005, at 1.00p PST ... i'm doing a groupwide chat [link] some of you check it out.

This isn't going to be my typical diatribe-rant-type journal.  Rather, I wanted to congratulate the following deviants:

by ~Aquiel - First Place

:thumb21725386: by !MatthewSaville - Second Place

by ~misternow - Third Place

by ~aerodread - Fourth Place

And, again, thank you `IsacGoulart and $micahgoulart for including me in their roster of judges.  Additionally, I'd like to thank the other judges as well:  `igy, `ssilence, `x-horizon and `coxi.  forgot `nighty.

Ya' know … I think I was supposed to do something like post something that I may not have in my journal.  I dunno.  I'm good at making photographs.  I can even pick my top ten.

In fact, in the context of contests … I think I'm good at picking and then like one final last step.  The steps in between those … well … not so much.

Anyway … ~Aquiel please pick one of my prints and add it to your wish list and I'll make sure it's sent to you.  You get an extra prize because is an amazing photo.  You deserve an extra prize.  

Okay … that being said … why are some of you such friggin' assholes to people that get DD's?  Note me if you don't like something.  Leaving fucked up comments on deviant's deviations or their page is just stupid.

Trust me.  I have a list.  Think ANYONE on that list will ever get a DD from me?  An ice cube has a better chance in hell during a really hot and dry streak.

I'm going to re-DD something once the deviant re-posts her stuff.  Her stuff is amazing.  She does an amazing job.  Better than ANYONE that left a fucked up comment.  So the fuck what 500 pageviews.  So the fuck what only been around a week.   Does it matter?  I read one comment that said, "I work my ass off on my deviations and you get a DD after one week?"  Yeah, I saw what you worked your ass off on….

Fucking-puh-lease.

Work harder.

I've been accused of trying to convert too many people to my beloved Scientology.

Sorry.

I'm an L-Ron-Evangelist.

All this time in Hollywood has finally made me give up and join ranks.

Just kidding. Not that certain people haven't tried.  They'll remain nameless.

I am taller than Tom Cruise dammit.  I am.  I am.  I am.

Went to the Emmy's.  On Saturday.  Seriously.  They have security up the friggin' ying-mother-fucking-yang.  'kay.  I have no credential.  Nothing.  Not even a messenger pass.  And I walk the fuck in with 150lbs of gear to set up for a photographer that was on a plane coming in from Toronto.  I walked the fuck into this supposedly-ultra-secure venue.  Go fucking figure.

Must some friend-of-Bush-security-contractor.

Yes, I am a team player.  As much as it may seem otherwise.  I am a team player.

I set up six friggin' strobes inside the press room.  16 foot ladder.  Seemed like a mile of different cables.  Looked pretty nice if I don't say so myself.  I so wanted to gel 'em up with green gel.  I didn't.  I didn't feel like being hunted down even though it would have been funny.  

Why does Motley Crue make one want to snort Ajax and have sex with strippers?  And not just hot strippers but those that are "ridden hard and put away wet" as it were in the equestrian world.  Ya' know … the kind with an unemployed boyfriend at home that sits around and watches Judge Judy whilst tweakin'.

Am I capable of anything less than a fucking rant?

Dunno.

Well … I have to shower and get the rest of my day going.

I don't think it's possible for me to wake before noon.  

I've decided that dinner at eleven to midnight is just perfect.

I love having a brown dog on my lap.

I love texts from certain people.

I love hearing my daughter's ringtone on my mobile.  

I love the feeling of hot water cleansing me.  God knows i need it.

Thanks again for all of the comments on … I'm glad you guys seemed to have enjoyed it.  'twas fun writing it.

As always … thank YOU ALL for the devwatches, comments, fave's …

Hope this finds you all well.

Cheers from semi-rainy Los Angeles,

This is what some girl said to me at a party for the Black Eyed Peas last night.  "Where are these photos going?"  

"WireImage."

"What's that?"

"Where are you from?"

"We're from Orange County?"

"Where's that?"

I think I'm starting to feel like the guy in .  For the past week I've been working on images until five in the friggin' morning.  Donut making.  Photo making.  Hmm.  Seems almost like the same fucking thing.  No glaze though.  Except in my gaze.  No I didn't mean to fucking rhyme.

I feel jetlagged but haven't been anywhere.  Florida doesn't count.  For many reasons.  Sorry ~TriggerArtist.

Espresso at one ay-em doesn't help the cause.

Do I dare put up what I'm listening to?  Hmm … you guys will think I've started making macro photos of flowers and shit.  Okay, I won't.

Hmm .. have I been renting out my life?  Interesting concept.  They rent my time.  Sometimes a longterm lease.  Perhaps.

So much has happened since I last sat down and wrote one of these missives.  Katrina.  She's a c-word.  Most definitely.  I judiciously use the word fuck:  Why is it that the c-word pisses people off so much?  I love watching the faces of my suburban friend's wives when I say it.  It offends them.  Then again unless someone has a fucking HARD TAIL why on fucking God's green Earth would they wear a brand called Hard Tail?

Dunno.

Those photos of dogs and cats and whatevers getting left in the wake of Katrina have just killed me.  I think of my own pet.  She'd feel so abandoned.  Please support an organization like [link] mean … the Red-Friggin'-Cross.  I'm sorry but I'm not giving money for executive assistants, expense accounts and the like.  Fuck that.  There are so many benevolent organizations that need the $$$ more than these mainstreamers.  One should really think about the causes they help fund.

Was at this party last weekend.  Last sunday night.  After making some photos of horses that are worth – themselves – more than I am.  In a net worth kinda way.  This rather affable guy was telling me about foreign policy.  He wasn't a Bush-supporting-stupid-fuck so I listened.  Actually, he was quite intelligent.  His wife tells me he's a rocket scientist.   Stood to reason.  He said he retired after he sold his company.  I asked who he sold it to and he said, "News Corp."  I said, "What the hell did you sell?"

"DirecTV."

But … I brought the best bottle of wine to the party!  '92 Silver Oak Alexander Valley.  I was invited back.   And even though these are the "I don't just have one jet and four houses crowd" … they were all liberals.  Hmm … go figure.  These are people that couldn't give a rat's ass about a tax cut.  Why?  Because they have the non-rapper-quiet-fuck-you-money.

I so hope the victims of Katrina find some solace.  That would so suck.  Suck bad.  Suck donkey-balls bad.  Not that I have.

Did anyone see the Islamic extremists threatening Los Angeles?  

That left me in a bit of a funk.  I wasn't scared per se just concerned.  And, honestly, not for myself … just for my little girl.  Her world is full of puppies and smiles and dressing cute and horsies and enjoying middle school and texting her daddy "Wake up sleepy head, I'm bored, I love you."  Makes me sad that there could be some event on the horizon that could change it all … and … for what?

This stupid fuck sitting his stupid ass in the oval office making fucked-up decisions about world domination.

How is this any different than the goals set forth in the Communist Manifesto?

I know I've done it before but, seriously, my apologies to those in other parts of the world.  I hate to do it but I'll apologize for the fifty-two percent that voted for dickhead.  Sorry world.  Really.  I'm sorry.  I did what I could.  But … influencing those that are truly idiotic and susceptible to Rove's fear mongering … what can I say?

When I saw the photos moving on the wire of this fucktard – yes, there is more than one – in that fucking humvee in New Orleans I could only think of "Mission Accomplished."  

A democracy can only work when there is an informed populace.  Even some of the most informed only watch and listen to the mainstream mill.

I feel bad for our so-called democracy – this word is used very loosely given our present condition.

Iraq and September one-one have no fucking connection.  None.

And … then … the forth anniversary of this day.  My parents have the day that Kennedy was shot as their bookmark of the sixties.  I have September one-one.  I remember setting my alarm for four in the morning to go to fashion week in Milan.  Needless to say I didn't go.  Yes, I'm bitter about it.  But … I was more sad that I saw so many innocents loose their lives … needlessly.

That was a very odd day for me.  And the anniversary thereof makes me think not only of endless loops of pressurized tubes with wings slamming into buildings but of something else.

Someone else.  Someone that probably knows who they are.  Who may or may not be reading this.

What did I do after getting back from LAX – not to get on a seat and jet to Europe – but to photograph the security precautions?  I went and looked at furniture.

And I met one of the most quixotic creatures roaming this Earth.  One that, perhaps, changed the way I saw things and thought of other things.  One that I loved to photograph.  One that when I think of "what could have been" makes me want to have a drink.  Not that I have a problem with drinking.  But … makes me want to have a drink nonetheless.  And with said alcohol-baited breath whispered in her ear, "Cheers, love."

Is a muse temporal?  Is a muse a state of mind?  Does the prior knowledge of a muse continue to let you see things differently?

Perhaps.

Why do I like the word perhaps so much?  So much better than maybe?  Well … when learning Italian the word "forse" was the English translation for perhaps.  I was never taught the word for maybe.

I don't like maybe any longer.

My little quixotic muse is/was the epitome of perhaps.

And maybe.

And I wasn't into something as ephemeral as perhaps or maybe.

Not then.  Not now.

But the thought of those "perhaps's" and "maybe's" harkens back to something that heretofore has almost been a bit in the lacking department.  Not much lit up my viewfinder like this quixotic little friend.  
I push the envelope with making photos … not in my personal life.

Then one learns something about their new life and it almost changes the way one thinks about a person.  Introspective reflection and everything just made sense when at the time it made no sense.  Like forgiving someone not for something they did wrong but perhaps a perception of one's own.

Before I put my foot in my proverbial mouth and have to explain what I'm really talking about … there's a new addition to the family!  

A 1957 Leica M3 Double Stroke.  Stephen at [link] called me and said, "You're meeting me tomorrow; I have a camera you're buying."  It looks like it was just taken out of the box.  I'm sure I'll fuck it up in no time.  He's also getting the Rollei modified for me.  I like 220 film.  120 is just so … I dunno … so 120.  12 photos.  Stupid.  I want more.

Before I forget …. I helped judge the "Emotions Contest."  Please go check out the photos at [link] and then you can vote in the poll at [link] discovered a couple of new photographers through judging and making my choices for the top ten.  Some really amazing work.  Thank you `IsacGoulart for including me!

Whilst on the topic of deviants … I'm really enjoying the respective galleries of ~95101 and !ghosts.  Very nice material.

Whilst not having anything to do with anything … I'm tired of Paris Hilton.  Please … get some talent, sweetie.  Please let your album come out so you can get absolutely fucking slammed.  We're all sick of her.  I mean thanks for the money through the syndication of your photos but … really … come on.  Enough.

What else besides making endless amounts of photos and fighting with FTP servers and appeasing publicists?

Went and saw "The Aristocrats" with choco-girl, ~JaninaZ and +spyed and then went to the pre-pre-pre-opening of "Magnolia" on Sunset.  Very cool space.  Good food too!  It's very nice to spend time with people that you met in one context and then get to know in another context almost removed from the original.  Very very good time.  Hope to do it again soon.

You're so pretty it makes me want to burn this city down.  A line from "Miss World" by Flunk.

I just liked it.

Wonder if sharky ever heard it?

Interesting lyrics.

Perhaps – not fucking maybe – I'll listen to it again.

It's funny … I can almost get sick of looking thru the viewfinder of an SLR – having made 18gb of images in the last week – but … picking up an M body just feels so nice.  Natural.  A part of my world and not something that almost gets in the way of said world.  ~rainman and ~londn and ~multix and ~PomadMan and !deborahdelasio and ~FideNullo know what I'm talking about.  I like thinking about the photos I made whilst waiting for the results.  Amazing to me that I hear shit about Leicas from so many people here.  But … quoting Marie Antoinette, "Let them eat cake."

Handed my Amex to a girl at Starbucks the other night.  She looks up and says, "I know you."

"okay"

"I was married to your ex-wife's brother."

"sorry … I don't … "

"are you as big of an asshole as you were back then?"

"did you put on weight?"

I never liked her.

Was I mean?  Perhaps.  

Did I care?

You're kidding, right?

Since I have no time, I put my own contest on hold.  I didn't like the idea I had.  But … I'm pretty sure – if I can enlist a person well-versed with contests who know who they are – I'm going to do "Thou Shalt Not…"  I'm sure on the prize.  Only one.

And, I just want to say that the crazy-ass bastard with the fucking freaky-ass clown icon, lolly, is doing an amazing job.  He came in during a time of complete adversity … and … he's kicking some ass.  Good on him.  

This is four fucking pages in Word.  Hmm…

And … it's taken 3 hours to write in between emails, skype conversations, phone calls, playing with itunes, looking at the wire, and IM's.

Am I done yet?

Hmm…

Yes.

As always, thank you for fav'ing my photos, for commenting, for noting, for suggesting dd's, for devwatching me and buying prints.  I may not have as much time for dA as I did a while back, but I still love the people that make up this place.  Most of them, at least.

I hope this finds you all well, regardless.

Good thoughts to those displaced by Katrina-the-c-word.  'kay.

Cheers from Los Angeles,

Paging Mr. WoodCOCK

This is the first thing I heard when I arrived at the gate for my flight into the wonderful world of red states.  Imagine the shit this fuck got in high school.  Middle school for that matter.

And who the fuck do I sit down next to on my way to the red state … trying to beat the hurricane?

Two curmudgeons reading their respective copies of the "Conservative Chronicle."  

"So … you guys … would you just tell me what the connection between Iraq and 9-11 is?"

They couldn't.

They thought Bush-it is one of the most honest men they could name.

I'd never do business with these mofos.

Did the OJ between the A section and B section of gates after arriving in Phoenix.  Running thru an airport in a red state … didn't get shot.  Guess I'm lucky.

Got on my flight just in time.  I had three seats to myself.

America West is like Air Walmart … I mean why did these people merge with US Air when they could have asked Walmart to buy them?

I was rudely woken by "evil gay muffin boy" … the flight attendant that was obviously pissed at the world.  So … my friends Larry and Mike … the cool mail carriers going to a mail carrier convention … made this asshole's life rough.  T'was hilarious.

I'm so used to 12 hour flights …. Four hours doesn't quite seem "worth it."  Ya' know?

Looked out the side of the plane and we could see the "eye" of Katrina.  We were about the last plane landing that day.

Never experienced a hurricane before.  And, I mean it was NOTHING like what it was when it hit New Orleans.  Lots of rain.  Lots of wind.  South Beach was spared except for the rappers and their crews.

I like Cuban coffee.  I forgot.  It's like cocaine without the guilt or the "drip."

Empenadas!  Amazing.  Those and hors' dourves.

What happened, though, to the MTV VMA's?  I thought I was at a violent version of the BET's … we lovingly referred to the VMA activities as "Thug Fest 2005."  

Sorry … I'm sure that there are some of you that love rap … but … I've had my fill of both the music and the people performing it, producing it and promoting it.

We're going to see a decline in the genre.

So … coming out of my hotel … the one next to The Shore Club.  A little after midnight last Saturday.  Saw some friends.  We talked.  Then pande-fucking-monium broke-the-fuck-out.  People were not just exiting The Shore Club but running.

Suge – the king of gangster rap – got shot.  We'd heard that he died originally.

He didn't.  The cops told me "he got shot in the ass."

Ya' know … I understand the allure of drug dealing.  That whole Tony Montana thing.  There's some mystique.  But rap-fucking-music?  Come the fuck on.  You guys drive Bentleys.  You don't even live NEAR the fucking hood any longer.  

I hope that genre goes the way of the Edsel.

R. Kelly is an asshole.  

I now know why they travel in a "pack" with a huge posse:  On their own … they're vulnerable.

At Jamie Foxx's party … O-fucking-J walked in!  Jamie got on a mike and said, "O.J's here … it's gonna be a killer party now."  Whilst dancing around on an makeshift stage he made stabbing motions and announced "I'm doing the O.J."

Everyone had forgotten that we all went through a hurricane!  Then again, some were so coked out of their skulls that I doubt they even knew there was one going on outside Thursday.

Did I mention that America West airline has to be the shittiest on the Earth?

Oh yeah, I did.

The plane from Florida to Arizona … had problems.  This meant, of course, that my 1-hour layover in Phoenix turned into a ten hour layover … with the grand accommodations that only a Best-Fucking-Western can provide.

I wondered how many meth-addicted whores filmed porn in this room.

Unable to get the thought out of my head I quickly stripped off the bed spread.  

Sounds high maintenance?  First off, I don't give a fuck.  Secondly, if you saw where I was staying whilst in South Beach, you'd understand.

I'm sure the customer service (if you can call these people that) reps at Sky Harbour are still reeling from the tongue lashing I gave them.  Seriously, they should be flipping burgers rather than being in charge of people's lives on planes.

My client got an equal tongue lashing for letting his assistant put me on this piece of shit.

Midnight in Miami – the night Suge almost met the big D.J. in the sky – high eighties and equal humidity.  How do people do this shit?

Midnight in Phoenix nineties and no humidity.

How do people do that?

Thank the big D.J. in the sky … the MTV VMA's are in San Francisco in 2006!

In the midst of all this I learned that the poverty rate in the richest nation in the world has risen a forth year in a row.

When are these Conservative-Chronicle-reading miscreants going to effing learn?

Four dollar per gallon gas.  By the end of September.

What was a barrel of oil when this evil bastard started his gauntlet on the freedom-loving of the world?  $US22.  Hmm…

How much does it cost to suck the shit out of the ground?

$US4.

Why am I only talking about US dollars?  Because over ninety percent of the oil that's traded is done in US dollars.  Supply and demand is one part of the equation.  Why would the oil producers want dollars when they are being beat up by the Euro and other currencies?  They just adjust the friggin' price to compensate.  I wouldn't want dollars right now.  

Add to this Katrina – she's a c-word – and what she did to the processing of oil into gas.

Get ready for new plateaus.

I mean, seriously, if you're in a dark room in the Appalachian and your ass hurts and there's two maniacal looking Billy-Bobs in the corner laughing their asses off and squealing and your ass hurts.  Well … you probably just took it there.

This is happening to America.  

We're getting screwed.

Say "Dry run."

No lube.

Enron.

Oil and the price of gas.

The poverty rate.

People that think that this guy isn't a lying piece of shit are just plain stupid.

I hope you have to sell your friggin' bibles to afford the gas that you're going to put into your S.U.V. emblazoned with the big W.

For whatever reason 100 octane is still only $US4.20.  

While I'm ranting.  Feels nice.  I had to be so nice around my clients for the past while.

If you send me a suggestion for a DD … and I don't like it.  That's it.  I don't like it.  Just because YOU like it doesn't mean I'm going to dig it for any number of reasons.  If you're insecure and can't take it, don't fucking note me.  Maybe I think the composition sucks.  Maybe I think the exposure sucks.

Just so you know … I know composition and exposure and when to press the button.

Trust me.

Or … you can just look at the gallery or Google my name.

Your tens of thousand of pageviews don't mean dick in the real world.  Just so you know.

It takes much more than that to be a WORKING photographer.  Who works his ass off and still has time for dA.

That being said, there are some of you guys out there – if I mention you names I'm going to get notes from those that I didn't – who make incredible suggestions.  Thank you.  Really.  They're amazing.

Seriously, I think the most improving photographers are ~bule and ~glitch16.  Bravo guys.  They don't even use Leicas and I like their stuff.

What else?  Oh yeah, why – if I'm a working photographer – do I care about being on dA?  Why the fuck not?  Granted I'm having less and less time for dA but why can't I have a place to share my newest personal work?

I'm sure you all know what I'd like to say to certain people when they note me …

Or spam my home page.

Why can't we have the ability to delete comments?  It's stupid that we can't.

So lolly did I live up to what you wrote in your last journal?

Thanks `mattdanna for the … very nice of you.

A quieter than normal August – self-imposed, of course – is leading up to a busier-than-expected September.  October.  I hope.  To get out of here for a while.  I feel a long-ass ride in a pressurized tube at 500 mph for ten hours is very much needed.  I can only take the mentality and apathy of America for just so long before I have to escape to an older civilazation.

New Orleans.  My God.  Wow!  I don't think I've ever seen anything like this.  I have a few friends there.  One is back at school, another is perhaps looting and one other got her cat, some clothes, the photo albums and high-tailed it to a relative's home.  Instead of sending money to the Red Cross I'm helping her out.

Wish there was a way to make that happen on a grander scale.  Find "a" person to help, not an organization.  I want my money to pay for food and lodging not an executive assistant and ads on t.v..

Why isn't monkey-boy in the oval office calling out the troops in LARGE-ASS numbers?

Oh … sorry … they're fighting an unjust war to gain a supposed democratic foothold in an area that is largely tribal.  I'm sorry but when does a democracy take ANY friggin' religious document into consideration before deciding the direction of said supposed democracy?  

Well … guys … as always … thank you for the comments, devwatches, whoever purchases prints and faves my material.  There are those of you that will always make me smile with any of the above referenced.

I hope this finds all of you extremely well.  All of you.  Even those who I berate but don't name.

Cheers from La-La-Land,
Chris

what's funny about that title is that it could mean so many things to at least a couple people that read this.  i'm sure choco girl's friends -- at least one, perhaps -- could buy her one.

but ... it's really in the context of tomkat.  saw it on some girl -- that didn't particularly wear it well as it were -- in a parking lot and laughed my ass off.

venus williams ... she's been hanging in silver lake lately.  that to me is very odd.  random odd.  yeah, she's from south l.a. but .... silverlake.  twice in a week.  hmm... makes me say hmm...  she recognized me ... and smiled but came over to compliment my friend's purse.

she had the same one.

*SONG CHANGE:  Old flame/Arcade Fire*

seriously, dA ... well ... i haven't been here much, if at all, lately.  i got really tired of defending the flames because i don't give a flying you-know-what about the perceived changes at dA.  i deleted more comments and notes than i responded too.  i learned.  don't respond to people that have nothing better to do than write diatribes that will end up being meaningless.

it's like fanning their flames.  pardon the pun.

like, really, do these people think i really care?  i have a family.  a life.  a job that i'm in love with.  their meaningless drivel is so meaningless in my life.

*SONG CHANGE: Naive Melody (David Byrne cover)/Arcade Fire*

dA ... as much as i like it and really enjoy the relationships with the people who know me ... sometimes it's just too much.

it's the internet, people.

there is more to life than the internet.

just got a new shirt from [link] love their stuff.

except one of my daughter's friends asked her, "you dad's shirt has rips, is he poor?"

my daughter laughed at her.

she's seen the way her parent's dress.

i got the best piece of salacious gossip on saturday night and ... well ... i wish i could put it here but i'm not that mean.

close.

but not quite.

it's interesting.  in the context of the "job" i do ... making photos ... well ... i think about it sometimes.  basically, i'm the eyes for the world.  a world most people will NEVER get to experience except by looking at (do people still read?) magazines.  like last night ... i put my cameras down (except for the leica) ... and got to watch dave navarro and a few of his friends ... oh yeah ... and a few of the contestants from the [link] reality competition.  a beautiful mansion.  a beautiful night.  some vodka.  it was pretty damn cool.  there were less than 10 of us.  there are a few photos at [link].

that being said, i'm a bit tired of inxs covers at this point.

ya' wanna know what really pisses me off, though?  besides the yellow vs. non-yellow llama conspirators ... and bush ... ASSHOLES THAT DRIVE WHILST TALKING ON THEIR CELLPHONES.

they are the cause for traffic in my fair city.

they're stupid.

do i talk while driving?

yes, but i have a hands-free system installed so it doesn't count.

i still drive fast no matter what.

*SONG CHANGE I've Been Waiting All My Life to Leave You (Elektrofant DX-7 Remix)/Flunk*

i love flunk.

but ... the nouvelle vague and arcade fire were introduced to me by [link] in there because she's a friend and my other friend (also on my shooting team) was giving me a hair cut.  it's almost embarrassing going there now -- the salon -- not hayley's because of [link] made the cutest one-off's for my little girl.

Um … why aren't there any war protests?  True, bush and his warmongering cabinet don't give a rat's ass … but … are we like really that apathetic?

I'll digress … I was at this fashion show and I was talking to a well-known hair stylist.  The issue of bush came up.  The issue of why aren't there any protests.  Sizeable ones.

And then we were talking about the body count … on our side.

And we started talking about visuals that would get published.

*SONG CHANGE: The Beauty Song/Jia Ren Qu

we both decided that making up dummies – I hasten to say effigy – one representing each of the u.s. casualties heaped on top of each other.   Thrown in the pile as recklessly as bush went into war.

A pile of fake bodies.  We originally thought if they were tossed on the capitol steps it'd be cool but security wouldn't have any of that.

Now I'm thinking more of like the gates in central park or the umbrellas.  The bodies representing something beautiful – such as art is – and then just tossed away.

Perhaps in the desert.

Just like what this administration is doing.

Could 2000 people put it together?  

Tossing almost 2000 fake bodies … in a heaping pile in the desert.

I know the "image would play" as we say in the context of news outlets.

The right-wing nutballs would probably give it more attention just because of their negative spin.

*SONG CHANGE:  Buffalo Stance/Neneh Cherry*

If one more friggin' person attempts to defend the connection (like there is one) between Sept one-one and the war in Iraq, I'm going to scream.  Seriously.  Are these people – the people that elected this moron – that stupid?  He implied the same twice in two days.

Follow the money.

It's that easy.

Go find out where the Iraqi oil exports are going.  That's all ya' need to do.  I've done my research.  

Ah … so … out of LA-LA-Land for a while.  Miami.  LA transplanted.  Like Cannes.  Like Sundance … but this time … ah …  in a red state.  I Tell myself that it's only for a few days.  And … there are some amazing parties.  MTV Video Awards related stuff is usually pretty good.

So I guess being in this red state … the one where they don't know how to count votes properly … will be alright.

Very happy to see that many of those that "hid" their galleries have unhidden them.  Good for you guys.  Good for us.  This is an art site.

So … hope this finds you all well.  Thanks again for the comments, devwatches and faves …

Doubt I'll be around here much as I have a lot to get ready to leave … that ... and i've been a bit burnt out in the context of dA.  i'm sure it will change.

Cheers all,
Chris

EDIT 23 AUGUST 2005:
Robertson calls for assassination of Chavez

[link]

Supposed "men of God" calling for assassination?

The Right Wing Nutballs ... they just don't know when to stop.

When did Jesus ever call for somone's assassination?  NEVER!  These fundamentalists are just as bad as the fundamentalists that they loathe.