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Showing posts tagged personal

The Warriors NYC 2014, a photo-essay

About three weeks ago now, I went down to New York City for the Warriors NYC 2014 bike messenger race. I’ve got a lot of friends that go to other cities for these sort of events all the time, but I’ve never really been into that. But back when I was a wee rookie bike messenger, I did go to the Warriors Fun Ride 2002, which was an amazing experience. And now, in 2014, they finally got around to having a sequel. It was really the first out-of-town event that I was psyched for enough to make some actual effort to attend.

The basic premise of the Warriors race is to follow (very approximately) the path from the movie The Warriors, starting from way up in the Bronx after dusk, and ending at Coney Island at dawn. Like the movie, we rode in teams. Officially, the teams were supposed to be six to nine members, but a bunch of us Boston guys just formed an eleven person team and nobody stopped us. Aside from me, my team included Pete, Mike, Eli, Max, Orlando, Kevin, Ben, Julian, Opie, and Craig.

I’ve been getting into shooting film this summer, soI brought along my little Fujifilm Natura S point-and-shoot loaded with Kodak Tri-X for black and white shots, and my Canon Rebel SLR with a bunch of Kodak Portra 400 for color shots. I got about three rolls worth of pictures, which I have tried to set out into a coherent story below. If pictures aren’t really you’re thing, Eli’s version of the tale is a more literary take on the night. Better yet, read both.

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Went to New York City this weekend. Got this souvenir. Who knew drinking in public wasn’t legal? I do it all the time. Oh, well, at least they let you plead guilty and pay the fine by mail. I really don’t need to spend my Halloween at Kings Criminal Court to give the City of New York $25.



Wow. They sound just like my friends.

Wow. They sound just like my friends.

(Source: fyspringfield.com)



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In a two-day-late nod to the 100th anniversary of the beginning of World War I, here’s a song I wrote about it back when I was the frontman for a punk rock band in 2007 or so. Well, I wrote the words, at least. Just in case anyone ever wanted to hear my singing voice.



I’ve got the whole apartment to myself for the weekend. I can drink High Life in my underwear. I could also go out on a Friday night and be social or something. But this is apparently what I prefer.



Getting my first stick ‘n’ poke, as well as my first Smiths-related tattoo, the other night, it says STILL ILL across my wrists. It was a St. Patrick’s Day get-together with various friends, and this is what ended up happening. I’ve been meaning to do this for a little while, although I was leaning more towards something a little more professional. But sometimes, it seems that whether the body rules the mind or the mind rules the body, after a certain hour of the night they both take a back seat to the booze.

This is the sort of thing that led me to call this blog “Youth Is a State of Mind” in the first place, a perpetual refusal to act my age even as I do in fact get older. In some ways you really can’t hold on to those times, and although I ended up with sore wrists, it just wasn’t like the old days anymore.

Also, I think I did a pretty decent job getting photos of myself while getting tattooed. It was dark and I was at a pretty slow shutter speed.



20 Years Ago Today…

Was my first run-in with The Law. It was New Year’s Eve, and my friend and I were going to see Aerosmith at the Boston Garden, because it was 1993 and that’s what people did back then. They hadn’t gotten as ridiculous as they are now. Anyways, the point of the story is that we were at South Station after taking the Commuter Rail into downtown Boston for the concert and I derailed a train and got yelled at by the police.

OK, it wasn’t a real, you know, full-sized train. There was a Christmas-themed model train layout on display in the station lobby. My friend and I were killing time trying to get pennies to rest on top of the train cars as it came around the one spot close enough to do so. My hand slipped, and the caboose came loose. On the next go-around, the engine crashed into the loose caboose, and the whole thing went off the rails. It was just a total train wreck.

Apparently, the place was filled with throngs of model train lovers or something (I know, at a train station, who would have guessed) who went to the officers stationed in the, err, station to point out the two ne’er-do-wells ruining the festive atmosphere, and wreaking untold havoc for the miniature residents of the model train display. Snitches. And my friend preferred sticking around to see what would happen to my idea of just leaving quickly.

So, I got a stern talking-to from a couple police officers. They explained that were I in the military, I’d never hear the end of an event such as had occurred. I ventured that perhaps that was why I wasn’t in the military. I don’t know where the impulse to be a bit of a sarcastic dick came from, and I think I may have gotten in another good comment or two, as well, but I’ve always been a little proud of myself for that. Eventually, they let us continue on to our scheduled appointment, after taking my information, which they never followed up on.

And Aerosmith kicked ass, just in case you were wondering.

 


Sometimes I let my roommate’s cat Ralphy enjoy the pigsty that is my bedroom. He’s a good model. Even when he’s pawing through my trash can.



I fucking hate everything in the whole fucking universe…

Mostly, I hate myself for my shitty fucking life being the pathetic pile of crap that it is. Which is entirely my own fucking fault. Any way you look at it, I’m a complete fucking failure as a human being. Fuck it all.

 


tech_dinghies on Flickr.

Tech Dinghies (I think) at the MIT sailing pavilion. Back in high school, we had the undergraduate regatta every year over here, rather than our normal location of Community Boating over on the Boston side of the river. Wasn’t much a fan of these boats at the time. They really just didn’t have enough sail to be fun. Now, throw a jib on there and you might get somewhere. In any event, I like the colors, and perhaps the boats have gotten better in the 18 years since my last time.



I’m still alive

I haven’t really had much that I’ve felt like writing about on here recently. If you’re wondering about my opinions on current events, here we go, briefly:

  • The US is unlikely to be able to do any good by intervening in Syria.
  • Even if it could do some good, it’s even less likely that it will.
  • Between the rebels and Assad’s forces, the rebels seem to be “the good guys.”
  • I suspect that I’m soon about to hear tons of nauseating pro=war liberal arguments.
  • And a bunch of so-called “progressives” saying great things about Rand Paul.
  • Nothing good will come of this.
  • Chelsea Manning getting 35 years is a travesty of justice.
  • But she’s displayed amazing strength and class in dealing with that and with coming out as transgender.
  • I never gave a shit about Miley Cyrus before and still don’t.
  • She did give some people a reason to write interesting things about the racial implications of a white girl twerking on national TV.
  • I don’t really know what to think of that, but just to be safe, I vow never to attempt twerking myself.
  • Really, that’s just for the best.
  • I really don’t have a problem with Be Affleck playing Batman.

I probably have opinions on other matters. Feel free to ask. Why does Tumblr make me end the post with a question mark if I want to let people reply?

 


Tomorrow is my 35th birthday. But by Tumblr standards, this is pretty much what I feel like.



I decided that what I really need in life is a new expensive hobby, and got this lovely new toy. Something about old technology that I just love. All manual (well, it automatically cocks the shutter release when you wind the film), doesn’t even have batteries. I would have preferred an SLR to a TLR (I mean, who wouldn’t kill for a Hasselblad 500), but let’s start at the most affordable end of the medium format world. Next step is figuring out how to develop my own B&W film, but that’s probably a while off.



Sometimes, I see an ad on Facebook that reassures me that Facebook obviously knows nothing about me. Maybe I should share more personal information with them so that I see ads that are more relevant to my interests.



They say you’re supposed to actually do the things you drunkenly promise to do

I don’t actually know who “they” are, but that is what they say, from what I’ve heard. My friend Nick says that when I was drunk at the bar Friday night, I agreed to be the singer for a band with him and a couple other friends if we could cover “Surrender” by Cheap Trick. I could totally have held out for more, but I guess I didn’t. And he says he spent the weekend figuring out the guitar part. The bastard.

My first instinct is to still refuse. He doesn’t drink, and totally set me up, which I don’t think is fair. On the other hand, I’m intrigued at figuring out how we might be able to make some sort of punk song out of this:

And it looks like I’ve got to learn some lyrics. It’s just such a catchy song. This could totally work. Or fail miserably. Who knows.