My roommate, Vince, and I shared my old school film camera for a few weeks in a bout of photo geekery.  After carrying around a couple of rolls of film for over a month - and bringing them through airport x-rays to potentially ruin the negatives - I finally got them developed.  I’m ashamed to say that I prefer most of his shots over my own.  But alas, as this is my photoblog, the following shots were taken by me with the exception of the last.

1. Amy's Bread - Chelsea Market

2. Chelsea Market - NYC

3. The J Train - Brooklyn

4. Yours Truly

5. Statue of Liberty at Sunset (photo credit: Vince)

It’s interesting how the color film seems to be affected by the x-rays significantly more than the black and white roll.  However, thanks to my former photography professor extraordinaire, Cosimo, and a thing I have for imperfection, I’ve come to have a great appreciation for grain.

I love using film and tend to forget how much more I appreciate photography as an art when I use it.  Shooting with film is a more patient process and as I lack that word in my vocabulary, it’s a good exercise in slowing down and doing things more methodolically.  If only I could get my hands on one of these bad boys, I’d probably use film a whole lot more.

This weekend one of my least favorite things of the year occurred.  The clocks turned back an hour.  The extra hour of comatose goodness was welcome and necessary, especially since a) it was a holiday weekend which meant at least one long night and b) there was a house full of boys that needed to be dealt with.  However, that annoyingly inconvenient act of resetting all of  your clocks means that for the next 8 months it’s going to be dark, dreary, and cold.  These are the months where you can find me in hibernation ordering delivery and staying in all night - or - in a dark bar huddled over a pint of beer trying to remember what it’s like to not have to pile on 57 sweaters to prevent immediate frostbite only to descend into an overheated, overcrowded subway car.

Winter.  It is not my time of year.

But before I get ahead of myself and mother nature, maybe I should give a recap of a beautiful autumn weekend spent with an unlikely group of friends.  My friend, Arvid, whom I met back in the spring on my escape to Amsterdam was in the country traveling for a few weeks and I invited him to stay for a few days.  Meanwhile, I had forgotten that my crazy Irish neighbor was moving in for a month because his lease was up.  I also had a bad cold that was made worse the previous weekend because I was in Vegas.  And it was Halloween.

I guess I needn’t have worried though.  The Irishman brought his own bed, so everyone had a place to crash.  I decided to suck it up and go out on Halloween, which was totally worth it.  Arvid and Vince got along well so when I ditched them to get into a warehouse party, they had their own welcome home party for me later on that night.  I guess living with boys isn’t so bad.  Now if only I could say that about dating them.  Sigh.

At any rate, here’s a photo recap.  One or two of these will be going in my book (another post *still* to come on that), but I kind of already have which ones picked out in my head.  So maybe you could just guess which one this time??  That’s kinda lame.  Just enjoy.

1. A Cigarette on the Roof

2. The Roommate

3. A Norwegian in Brooklyn

4. November Sunset in Billyburg

5. My Only Tolerable Sweater

As it was my virgin trip to Las Vegas, Nevada, I had no idea what I was in for.  Expectant of nothing, I found this gambler’s mecca quite appealing in a grown-up, hedonistic Disneyland kind of way.  Arriving to the Paris hotel was a shock in itself with the Eiffel tower opening up into a casino where the skies are always blue.  The American flags in front of such a strongly French symbol are interestingly ironic.

1.

A walk over to the Venetian proved that you can get a little bit of Italia in Nevada.

2.

Every time I walked out of my hotel, the Bellagio water show was in full swing across the street.  Quite a pleasure to witness that eye candy several times a day.

3.

Paris in daytime is an interesting sight.  The lack of seizure lights make you feel a little bit normal after a night of casinos and clubs.

4.

The Bellagio latte was a delicious one.  As it should be at $6.42 a pop.  But definitely necessary after a night in a city with an open container law.

5.

And once again, favorite of the five?  I need your help putting my book together.  An explanation to come of what that nonsense is about.

The author of the peculiar Walkabout Jones blog has featured this photo of the astronomical clock in Prague.  I took this in November of 2006 when I visited Prague during my semester in Firenze.  It’s such a beautiful timepiece with quite a history.

380 degrees hot!  Proceed with caution.  Aren’t I hilarious?  I think so.

Shockingly, I’ve retained my sense of humor on a Monday.  Not that there is any reason not to be in good spirits every day of the week, but this particular weekend was an unexpected mix of productive, relaxing, and fun.  I’m hoping for many more weekends of the same.  This may cure my pre-winter blues.

This was taken in the backyard of my childhood home in Watertown, NY.  The entire time I was growing up I was under the impression that this was a crab apple tree.  One of many that my dad would pay me, my brother, and any willing friends 10 cents an apple to pick up off the ground so as to not get stuck in the lawnmower.  I always tried to negotiate up to a dollar an apple, but to no avail.  It wasn’t until I was home recently that my aunt picked one off the tree, declared that it looked like a Red Delicious, and took a bite.  Only to find out that these were NOT in fact crab apples.  It’s slightly disappointing that I had no idea I could eat fruit straight from my yard all those years.  I never understood why my dad wanted to cut down those trees in the first place.  They had prime locations for hanging upside down and climbing up pretty damn high so no one knew you were spying.  Ah well.  Life goes on.

Since I keep writing about my awesome father, and I know he doesn’t read my blog so I know he won’t get mad about me posting this photo (and even if he does, my brother already threatened to put it as his Facebook photo), I figured this was only appropriate.

Unlike his garden where he just throws the seeds in the ground and out shoots James’ giant peach, my father takes pristine care of his pool.  Not only does he vacuum it when there are but two bugs to be seen floating around, but he also has placed plastic owls, that started as one and have grown to four, around the deck to scare away the birds so that they don’t shit in the crystal clear waters.

I must say, though, that this makes visiting my childhood home quite spectacular.  Now if only I wasn’t subjected to the golf/football/wrestling conversation that makes me want to rip out my eardrums with a steaknife.  However, I did manage to make him sit through an entire episode of Project Runway with me.  He only asked once if those guys were gay.

A while ago I read this book.  Now I’m reading this book which has led me to listen to this song on repeat (as I will so often do when I need something to really sink in).  And if you head on over to the Wikipedia page for that song and scroll down to Legacy, you’ll see some interesting facts on just how popular that song is.  Now what I would like to know is why the fuck does everyone on the planet have such a thick skull?  The ideas provoked here obviously resonate with anyone who has half a brain, yet nothing really seems to change.

It was a few years ago that I rejected the idea of religion and any superior being that so much of the world puts their faith into.  Though they are all founded on human morality, they have been polluted with meaningless rituals and lists of rights and wrongs.  Who is to decide what is moral?  We’re all human.  It doesn’t make sense that any one person or group of people know what is ethical.  Human nature and common sense should be able to dictate those things.

As of recent, I’ve decided that this also applies to governments because whatever we’re doing, it’s not working.  There’s too much greed and, in effect, violence for someone to look at the state of the world as a whole and say, “Yes, this is okay.  Let’s keep it up.”  No way.  I don’t accept that.  It’s like we’re fighting for peace.  How the fuck can you fight for peace?  I have an idea on how to achieve that goal:  Stop.  Fighting.

That being said, I know we live in a materialistic world and I am most definitely guilty of *needing* those shiny new toys.  That glowing apple icon?  Gets me every time.  Four inch patent leather mary janes?  Sold.  $100 haircuts so that my hair is one less source of stress in my life?  Done.  Luxury condos in Battery Park City?  Give me a few years, I’ll get there.  I am certainly not above desiring all of the pretty things of the world, and New York isn’t exactly the city of frugality.  It’s tough to not want everything.

However, college/living abroad/traveling/moving apartments every year has taught me that there is a lot of unnecessary crap in our lives.  After living in Italy for 4 months and taking home the only two suitcases that I had brought with me (though stuffed with plenty more than I came with), I realized that minimalism makes life a lot easier.  My pack rat days were over.  Only take what you need, leave the rest for someone else.

In the last 6 months or so, that zen mentality of mine got lost in a mess of cool new tech products, clothes, restaurants, bars, vacations; basically all things excessive and expensive.  I’ve wanted and needed the latest and greatest and wouldn’t be satisfied until I had it.  That is, until I took a spill off my bike a couple of weeks ago.

At first glance all seemed fine.  Minor scrapes to myself, the bike was okay, and though everything fell out of my bag, it all seemed like it took the crash well.  Then I got to work, took out my laptop, and realized the case was totally warped and the latch broken.  Uh oh.  After turning it on, the machine seemed to be working properly.  Within a couple of days, though, that was not the case: the DVD drive was eating discs, the camera wasn’t being recognized, and the trackpad button felt weird to the touch.  Upon inspection at the Apple store, I was informed that yes, those things collapsed from the impact and no, the fact that I bought the machine 6 months ago doesn’t matter because the warranty has been invalidated.  The price tag for repair?  $1200.

However, the hard drive, screen, keyboard, and trackpad are not busted.  Everything I need to do my job is fine.  And for that, for not having to replace a $2000+ machine, for not even having to actually get anything repaired, I woke back up.  I remembered that this is just a tool that allows me to do the things that I do.  I’m taking my ever-so-graceful spill as a big shove from the universe to get my head on straight.  Yes, it’s sad that I can no longer take stupid Photobooth snapshots when I’m procrastinating, and it’s sad that my new machine is now a used machine, but such is life.

I’m probably getting far too big a lesson out of this incident, but if you know me, you know how attached I am to my pretty aluminum baby.  My baby that was dropped on it’s head and now has some permanent brain damage and a couple of scars to show for it.  But I’ve relearned my lesson: that you have to appreciate what you have.  Otherwise nothing will ever be good enough and you’ll turn into a greedy little bastard.

I’ve begun to believe that there is a direct relationship between the amount of dirt encrusted into your hair/clothes/skin and how hip you are.  Actual location: 2nd ave at St. Mark’s Place.  More photos to come on Flickr (once I get around to going through them).

Excellent places to visit on the hippest street in Manhattan:

1. St Mark’s Ale House: Lots of good stuff on tap including (my) seasonal faves by Sam Adams.  Plus, the staff is awesome.
2. Grassroots Tavern: A dark bar for a good pint.  Recommended for those bitterly cold days of winter.
3. Tahini: Formerly Chickpea, but basically the same good stuff that is dank village falafel.
4. Mamoun’s: Compare it to Tahini.  I can never decide, but I think Mamoun’s is better when drunk and Tahini is better sober.
5. Zen Sushi: Half price sushi and a late night happy hour?  SOLD.
6. Yakitori Taisho: De-sushied Japanese food and pitchers of beer to wash it down.  I’ve only been here with former colleages who knew what to order.  Great food, but beware.
7. Sing Sing: Get your karaoke on.
8. La Palapa: Hands down the best Mexican food I’ve ever had.
9. La Paella: Bangin’ tapas bar.  Go with a group and eat your heart out.
10. Continental: Cheap drinks and live music.  No guarantees the music is good, though.

Rest in Peace:

1. NY Milkshake Company which moved to Midtown… boo to Midtown.  I miss the mint chocolate chip waffle sandwiches.
2. San Marcos had the best margarita specials.  It’s now Grand Sichuan.

Going through the archives of my escapades through Europe, I realized that although I have an insatiable appetite for travel, I’ve already seen some really cool things (like this sweet astronomical clock in Prague) and been to some beautiful places (like here and here).  All have been invaluable experiences.  There’s a lot of world to see out there and I’ve barely seen a square foot of it, but I’m still young and time is on my side.  That’s the thing about travel: the places you want to experience firsthand aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.