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Sorry about the size, but I was too lazy to make a thumbnail. Here is a direct link if you are running Reader's Digest print. I was fooling around with some high dynamic range developement techniques on another 22P RAW file I had laying around. Sleepytime.

I can't stop watching the Africa feed. I thought I saw the reflection of a shooting star earlier. I need a way to pipe it to the tele so I can lay on the couch. Don't worry about the speed thing in the video. I wasn't saying anything worth litening to anyway. I am trying to figure out how to get rid of the hiss in every recording a make. It looks like I'm going to have to buy a camcorder after all. I don't know what I did to my back, but it is really in a lot of pain. I've been miserable all day. I need food.

Shamelessly stolen from my friend, Lisa, this is a nifty video feed of a watering hole on Sabi Sand game reserve. I love stuff like this! The feed is actually sponsored by Africam.

Some of those email forwards making round after round through the Interwebbiethingy are worth repeating after all. It is impressive (to me) that I can actually read this praragraph as fast as I could if it were not jumbled. It must be the alcohol. "fi yuo cna raed tihs, yuo hvae a sgtrane mnid too. cna yuo raed tihs? olny 55 tou fo 100 plepoe acn. i cdnuolt blveiee taht i cluod aulaclty uesdnatnrd waht i was rdanieg. The phaonmneal pweor of the hmuan mnid, aoccdrnig to a rscheearch at Cmabrigde Uinervtisy, it dseno,t mtaetr in waht oerdr the ltteres in a wrod are, the olny iproamtnt tihng is taht the frsit and lsat ltteer be in the rghit pclae. the rset can be a taotl mses and you can sitll raed it whotuit a pboerlm. tihs is bcuseae the huamn mnid deos not raed ervey lteter by istlef, but the wrod as a wlohe. Azanming huh ? yaeh and i awlyas tghuhot slpeling was ipmorantt!"

"but now its time for me to go,
the autumn moon lights my way.
for now I smell the rain,
and with it pain,
and its headed my way.
ah, sometimes I grow so tired,
but I know Ive got one thing I got to do... "

I've been so remiss about maintaining continuity of posting for the longest time that I made a small self-commitment to contribute at least once a day to this site. So that begs the question... is it better to post for the sake of posting when there is no substance or just skip and not say anything at all? I'm not a big fan of talking to hear myself talk. Silence is underrated. Regardless, I feel compelled to demonstrate some stick-to-itiveness here. I had to fight the temptation today to binge shop on the Internet. I find myself in these moods where I'm compelled to impulse buy. Usually I curb it effectively, but it was rough today. I did some Christmas shopping this morning. I am dreading the holidays. It is hard to differentiate the difficulty of everyday survival from that of making it through EL's birthday and our anniversary because they were so close to her death. As time goes on, I become more numb to the world and the sting of sentiment is more pronounced as the deviation from baseline is so greatly exaggerated. Thanksgiving and Christmas will be more difficult than I care to imagine at the moment. My mother asked about coming to visit and I know I have a list of friends that have offered to embrace me into their Thanksgiving Day. I'll be doing well if I can just be present in a social environment those days. I have really been digging into the way-back machine over the last couple of weeks when it comes to music. I find lots of ambient, down tempo, trip-hop/electronica in the mix. I just seems more palatable in the evening when the last thing I want is to feel anything. I can get lost in it without committing to anything. Perhaps that doesn't make sense, but that is reality. This project evolving at the office is foreboding a trip to California in the next month or so and I'm less than happy about it. Even though it's been a while, I feel like I just got back from the San Francisco Bay area. I'd love a little villa in the countryside... someplace quiet where I can be static for a while. Retirement would be too much to hope for, but one can always dream. I suppose I could just whore myself out for money and be the next male Anna Nicole Smith. There are just some lines that can not be crossed. I'm going to attempt to sleep. Goodnight.

" please could you stay awhile to share my grief, for it's such a lovely day, to have to always feel this way, and the time that I will suffer less, is when I never have to wake. "

Ironic isn't it? I wonder how many other people were listening to that little 1994 nugget today besides just us. I worked, reluctantly, into the evening and am feeling the weekend catch up to me. Sleep soon... I hope. This afternoon I took a trip to my new office building. I don't particularly care to move. The executive suites we lease now are adequate for the work I do when I'm in the office and I very much like the staff. I'll miss them much more than the location. My new digs are very... umm... corporate. Neutral and noncommittal colors drape impersonal cubicles and blasé walls. I ordered a couple of poster prints tonight to have framed just to splash something on the walls that doesn't look so clinical. The effort is empty. There was a time not long ago when it would have mattered to me. Colorblind apathy has grown from the echo within the shell I've become. I would like to think I'm trying, but it really doesn't mean much. Nightfall.

/sigh The weekend is over. I am a little worn out from all the festivities... and, as shameful as it is to admit, a little sore from all the walking at the Renaissance Festival. Yes, that's right... not hiking in the mountains, running a 10k, or swimming in the surf... just walking. I really need to get to the gym. The Ren Faire was nice. Jason and I especially got a kick out of the quirks of anachronism and misplaced accents. For example, the exquisitely prepared costumes to seemingly the finest detail being accompanied by a big digital watch or sneakers as the exception. Strong drawled southerners trying their best at bending that twang into Elizabethan vernacular and failing in the most miserable, but cute way. There were tons of activities, performance art, food, and drink to be taken in throughout the day. The fairground was quite large, covering many more acres than I'd imagined. I took my camera, but only in a documentary capacity. Most of the folks out at the event with cameras were focused on the plethora of erupting cleavage from the bodice and bustier population density. Most of those women were one sneeze from a wardrobe malfunction. We left with enough time to beat the traffic out of the parking areas and headed into town for some food that involved sitting in chairs during consumption. Here are a few shots I snapped as I walked around the grounds: We had a snack at TMH a.k.a. Mi Rancho and a few jumbo margaritas before searching every easily accessible grocery store for fresh whole chickens. This proved to be quite challenging and we ended up having to drive to Woodland's Market to find uncut poultry that wasn't frozen solid. Beer can chicken on the grill, baby squash, and Jason's "special" macaroni and cheese casserole were the menu after Ted, Jenny, and Miranda came over to my place. It was nice to have people over at the house again... odd entertaining without EL's warm conversation embracing the room, but nice none the less. The weather was just cool enough to justify a crackling fire in the den. Penny was obviously happy I started up the fireplace for the season because she slept in front of it most of the evening. After dinner, everyone left Jason and I to our movie and wine. It was a pleasant end to an active weekend. I need a weekend to recover from this weekend. I slept too little, spent too much, and definitely ate too much, but seeing an old friend was just what the doctor ordered.

Yesterday didn't exactly go as planned, but that isn't necessarily a bad thing. We decided to push off the Renaissance Festival until today (if we go at all). The entire day was basically a cyclic swing between culinary delight and laughter. We sat around talking over coffee for most of the morning... recovering from the MeatCake™ hangover. Lunch was the Dam Goods burger at the Black Walnut Cafe. Basically they take two beef patties and submerge them in a flurry of cheddar cheese, garlic cream cheese, lettuce, tomato, and thick smokehouse bacon sautéed in mushrooms and serve open faced on onion buns. We went to see Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan at the matinee. It was fairly funny (especially when enjoyed with buckets of beer), but perhaps not worth all the media hype. It is almost assuredly going to offend most. My personal favorite scene was the brief clip where the kids are chasing the ice cream truck and the bear growls out the window. A movie moment to remember. We left the Movie Tavern with enough time to make our massage appointments at Tovas. Feeling refreshed after a couple hours of pampering, we went The Roll-N by the tracks for a beer and a chance at "train shots". This is a small pub located next to the railroad track, not likely larger than a family room or living room in a large home, that offers a one dollar shot special when a train goes by the building. We didn't get our train shot before the beer was gone, so we ventured forward into the evening. We stopped for a fantastic flight of pinot noir at The Wine Bucket... a wine specialty bar. Jason and I both agreed the best of the lot we tried was the La Crema from Sonoma, CA. We had a selection of import cheese and fresh grapes to cleans the palette between tastes and realized that we were hungry, so we went downtown to The Strip House. The food here is not bad, but I love the decor. The entire restaurant is filled with vintage pin-up and black and white nudes. It is quite sexual, but subtle and classy. Whiskey river had washed the wine downstream and the food was delicious. Lobster bisque preceded the chateaubriand, black truffle cream spinach, and crisp goosefat potatoes. Barrett joined us during the meal and we all drove together to the Improv out west. There were 3 comedians on the bill. Pablo Francisco was the headliner, but his opener, Jeff Somethingorother (I think it was Keith, but not certain), was much funnier. It reminded me of when the Burden Brothers open for a big headliner and basically dish out the rock so intensely they steal the show. By the time we got back on the north side, we were floating in food and alcohol bliss in the afterglow of a fabulous day spa visit and beds were welcomed indeed.

Veteran's Day

November 11, or what has come to be known as Veterans Day, was originally set as a U.S. legal holiday to honor Armistice Day - the end of World War I, which officially took place on November 11, 1918. In legislature that was passed in 1938, November 11 was "dedicated to the cause of world peace and to be hereafter celebrated and known as 'Armistice Day.' As such, this new legal holiday honored World War I veterans. In 1954, after having been through both World War II and the Korean War, the 83rd U.S. Congress, at the urging of the veterans service organizations, amended the Act of 1938 by striking out the word "Armistice" and inserting the word "Veterans." With the approval of this legislation on June 1, 1954, November 11 became a day to honor American veterans of all wars. In 1968, the Uniforms Holiday Bill ensured three-day weekends for Federal employees by celebrating four national holidays on Mondays: Washington's Birthday, Memorial Day, Veterans Day, and Columbus Day. Under this bill, Veterans Day was moved to the last Monday of October. Many states did not agree with this decision and continued to celebrate the holiday on its original date. The first Veterans Day under the new law was observed with much confusion on October 25, 1971. Finally on September 20, 1975, President Gerald R. Ford signed a law which returned the annual observance of Veterans Day to its original date of November 11, beginning in 1978. Since then, the Veterans Day holiday has been observed on November 11.

"I believe in God like I believe in the sun, not because I can see it, but because of it, all things are seen." - C. S. Lewis

some of those wildflowers I was talking about... from a happier time

Grocery shopping and stopping for pet food were the highlights of my morning. My mother babysat Henry while I was out of town and she had to leave this afternoon. I have been working (again) on this RFP follow-up and more or less have remained busy. All was well until I stumbled across a love note EL had written me a year ago and hid on my computer to find later. I am fairly certain I did find it at some point, but the impact of reading it was as if it were the first time. I haven't been able to stop crying. We all take life for granted until it's gone... even those that say they don't. A young man, barely 27, that works for one of the clients I visited yesterday, is in critical condition today after 16 hours of surgery to transplant both his lungs that were failing from cystic fibrosis. He has gone through over 100 units of blood and his heart has stopped many times over the last 24 hours, but they have always managed to resuscitate. I am terrified of needles. I shutter at the thought of them much less the thought of voluntarily sticking myself with one, but if I didn't have company flying into town in about 2 hours, I would be on my way to San Antonio to donate my as much blood as they will take without forcing me away. I feel for him and his wife. I know pain better today than I ever could have imagined I would in my worst nightmare. Please say a small prayer for him if you are so inclined. I don't even know this man, but I will appreciate it. So the company coming in... Jason. He and I have known each other for around 15 years. We first met in the Navy, but have remained close ever since. He lives in LA (or the greater metro area) and somehow manages to stomach the geographic misfortune. Speaking of stomachs, I'm taking him for MeatCake™ tonight. Mmmmmmmmn... the 7 finger pork chop. The soft plan is to attend the Renaissance Festival tomorrow during the day and hit the Improv comedy club in the evening. I'd hate to make him sit around the house watching me be miserable. I have not been to the Texas Ren Faire (or any other for that matter) since the 9th annual festival. This year marks the 30th anniversary of the event in Texas. I guess once every 21 years isn't overdoing the frequency, eh? I'll try to take a couple of photos.

my heart

Time is not kind to the suffering.

tenacious c as a young sailor

I was on the road most of the day yesterday. I had to visit a couple of clients in the Belton/Temple area. The drive from Houston to the edge of the hill country is beautiful... rolling hills spattered with stock tanks and lush groves. In the right season, the wildflowers are breathtaking. It was hard for me to stay focused on work. I was emotional and everything seemed to remind me of EL. My coworker seemed to only be able to find ballads and love songs on the radio as he fumbled between country, classic rock, and anything in between that had decent signal strength. It really makes one appreciate the convenience of satellite radio. I lived in Belton when I was a kid for a couple of years. I think it was my fourth and fifth grade elementary school years, but I don't recall exactly. I just grasp little snippets here and there... then, poof, they are gone. I wasn't feeling well on the way back to H-town after taking a client to a lunch at a venue of his choice. I was thinking something local, quaint, and special... a unique entity to that town that locals were proud of sharing with out-of-towners. He was thinking Chili's. The closest thing to special I've ever experienced at the mega-chain Chili's franchise is when Kirk and I ate at the Chili's in Bahrain. We each had a hamburger, fries, and a soda... the total after dinar to dollar was about $96.00 US. Can you say holy shit? I knew you could. The burgers weren't even good. I was probably eating camel flank or stray cat. Oye. That reminds me of eating raw meat in Israel, but that is another story. So, on the way back home, my partner wanted to stop at The Dixie Chicken. Their website states: "The Dixie Chicken serves the most beer per square foot of any bar in the U.S." I've been to a lot of bars and, after seeing this one, I'm going to have to hoist the bullshit flag up the mast (note: I started to type "throw the bullshit flag on the field", but that might lead one to believe that I know the slightest thing about sports... especially basketball or whatever that one they wear helmets in). The bar reminded me a lot of Blanco's here in Houston... with more taxidermy'd critters and more pool tables... oh, and the average age of clientele was about two decades younger. random thought: I saw a spot on the news this morning about a new procedure being researched to perform uterine transplants for fertile women with damaged or dysfunctional uteruses. In passing thought, the danger for the host presented by the surgery wouldn't concern me as much as the post transplant meds having impact on the fetus. They juice people up with all kinds of crazy stuff to keep their immune systems from rejecting the organ and prevent clotting during the fusing of blood pathways. That can't be good for cells in the bakery.

Today is the anniversary of the day Erin and I met. I can't say anything right now that will stop the hurt or make much sense. Sleep well... it doesn't mean much.

outdoor strobe

Bored. Today was a slow day, so I thought I would spend about 15 minutes testing balanced exposures outdoors with a studio strobe for key and the natural Sun as backlight/hairlight. I obviously could have found a better setting than my back yard, but I didn't want to spend too long on it... besides, I don't have a power inverter for my truck, a portable generator, or location battery packs. The plain 'ole extension cord off my electric hedge trimmer decided the location. Not terrible for a first attempt, but I feel like the shade from the enclosed yard made it difficult to really see the effect. I need to go on a diet and start working out again. The shot setup wasn't terribly difficult. Use an incident light meter to meter ambient, then set your strobe to match when metering flash... or slightly higher in this case where I wanted the background darker (like a half stop to a stop). The very upper edge (garage eve) was burned by hand because I think it's ugly in the shot, but then we're back at the location statement. I'm glad the work day is over.

I've had a long standing "thing" for tattoos. As the glass was getting light, I click click surfed into TLC's "Miami Ink"... not to be confused with Hart and Huntington's "Inked" (based in Las Vegas). Both are quasi-reality shows in that they both feature real artists, real designs, and real tattoos however, I think most of the flow of the program is scripted (or at least prompted) interactions between the cast. I avoid reality television as a general rule. Regardless, I'm always down for seeing some nifty tats. My position has always been "do what you want with your body", but some people need a network of friends to tap them on the shoulder and say, "hey, bud... lets go grab a cuppa joe and talk about this tat before you have it laid down". I've seen some incredible art... and, well, the other stuff. For me, there has to be a meaning or personal significance to the piece. I don't think I could ever be one of those folks that wanders in off the street, picks a catalog piece from the line-up, and says "put it here". Nope. Even though there are removal techniques now that work quite well, the art should be treated as permanent and with that permanence, there should be a modicum of forethought into what exactly you're gonna be carrying around for the next howevermanyyears on your body... saggy or otherwise. Plus, I think the ink one chooses says so much about the person beneath it.

I was channel surfing whilst slightly inebriated and ran across the ending of the mildly romantic, poorly written "Meet Joe Black"... the story of Bill Parrish and his daughter when Death comes to take him. "Love is passion, obsession, someone you can't live without. If you don't start with that, what are you going to end up with? Fall head over heels. I say find someone you can love like crazy and who'll love you the same way back. And how do you find him? Forget your head and listen to your heart. I'm not hearing any heart. Run the risk, if you get hurt, you'll come back. Because, the truth is there is no sense living your life without this. To make the journey and not fall deeply in love - well, you haven't lived a life at all. You have to try. Because if you haven't tried, you haven't lived." Of course, the edited for television version has ample commercial breaks throughout the film, so the first commercial break after I stumbled upon the channel consists of the following: 1) a spot on hair coloring for men depicting a handsome man with a gray beard approaching a lady and being abruptly rejected, then coloring his beard, approaching the same lady and she nearly tackles him with sexual aggression. 2) a spot on herbal formulated pills for "natural male enhancement" which I can only assume is as close you can get to penile enlargement on network television without a censor 3) a lengthy spot on prescription remedies for erectile dysfunction So my question is this: what demographic do they expect will be watching a "Meet Joe Black" re-run at 10 o'clock in the evening on regular television? I mean, really, Claire Forlani isn't that attractive that she would be the Pied Piper of graying, horny, small dicked men with erectile dysfunction... is she? What have we come to here? I'm going to bed when I finish this last Mariana-trench-deep glass of bourbon. Really, I mean it.