cheesy, cheesy
March 24, 2009
you might say. but if we could escape all this lay-offs business at work, this is exactly where i’d take everyone: disney world. five minutes into the magic kingdom on sunday and i was wrapped up in its stupor, drunk with giddy thoughts of caramel apples and hand-dipped ice cream scoops. even the french fries tasted like fluffy, salty clouds.
a brief stroll
March 22, 2009
down ybor city, tampa’s latin quarter. mid-afternoon, 85 degrees. mardi gras beads dangle from second-floor balconies, shiny disco balls hang from every other ceiling and men puff on hand-rolled cigars as they sip sweet sangria.
oh santa barbara
March 2, 2009
the world should write you a song. something that rhymes with happy and breeze and root beer floats and fiery sundowns that last and last. i want to build a big glass house atop your highest dune, nap for a year, then run on the beach until my hair gets knotty and my feet fall off.
great news
February 25, 2009
on the photography front. i found a mentor; a genius, a real life professional to meet with me weekly and answer the torrent of questions flooding my brain as of late. in return, i’ve promised this kind and patient man lots and lots of the world’s finest coffee and if necessary, some pan dulce.
anyone who’s been around me recently knows this photography thing has taken on a life of its own. like godzilla on crack in a girl’s gone wild video. godzilla on crack without an instruction manual. “how was your day?” my cousin asks. “glad you asked, let me show you my pictures!” … ”can you hang out friday night?” my friend says on the phone. ”why yes, that way i can take your picture!” … “do you want me to make you some flan?” my mom asks. “sure! that might make a good picture.”
everything and everyone is unfolding before me in a new light. literally. and i’m like a moth bolting toward it.
to what end? i have no idea. i just know that i carry my camera in its cute, little camera diaper in my purse every single day and when i walk down the street and see a photo in someone’s chiseled face, their leathery hands, neon-pink hat, toothless child or pudgy pup, i hear godzilla growl. i want to scream FREEEEEZE! like they do on movie sets (at least i figure that’s what they do on movie sets) zoom in with my feet and snap away.
most of the time, i freeze. i swoon and sulk and quietly stalk the moment — the face, the hands, the hat — until it vanishes down the street. (two weeks ago in arizona i shadowed a little girl and her pink coat for three blocks, but couldn’t gather the nerve to kneel and shoot.) the travel abroad version of me would be ashamed. when i leave the U.S., a travel alter-ego takes over my eyes, my feet, my hands and my camera and i’m fearless. every flashing moment is mine, no exceptions.
this might be my first question over coffee tomorrow. how do i channel that version of me at home?
* photos: paris. spring 2006. shot with my old palm pilot
ofelia and i
February 16, 2009
we climbed that red sedona rock and when we reached the top, we laughed. we laughed and we jumped and we jumped and we laughed. then, a man showed up, all pinched up in the face, and shushed us. he said the peak was an energy vortex and people traveled far distances for a chance to sit here and meditate in silence. “oooh,” we whispered. then we laughed. “too late, mister.”
* photo: sedona, arizona. february 2009.
wanderlust: arizona
February 15, 2009
up and down old town scottsdale, where a cowboy on a horse named dusty serenaded me with his guitar for valentine’s day.
* photos: scottsdale, arizona. february 2009.
self-portrait # 1: shadows
February 4, 2009
it was a don quixote-sancho panza kind of day. sunny april afternoon skipping along the cobblestone paths of toledo, spain with ginny. past a row of bashful nuns draped in black and white, past the unchecked chatter of uniformed school kids, past shop windows displaying warm, baked bread and handmade silk shawls. every single thing i laid my eyes on that day was a new discovery.
* photos: toledo, spain. april 2005.
