Kombucha

A friend of mine recently told me of 'the best thing for hangovers there is'. Kombucha tea. I had never had this, but I have had hangovers. Plenty of them. In fact, I'm one of those dudes who gets REALLY wicked hangovers. I don't even have to get that drunk to accomplish it, either. To date, the only thing that has kept me from being all headachy and pukey the next day is to drink a ton of water before, during, and after a day/night of straight northeast-style drinking.


(for the record, i did not take this wack-ass photo... just found it on the internet)

Anyway, I bought one last Saturday. I put it on deck for my next possible hangover. It has a quick expiration date, this Kambucha, but I wasn't worried about that.

Sure as shit, I was out drinking beer and playing chess on Sunday. I called it an early night and went home around 8... but not before I had a decent buzz. And this is the part of this prolonged fucked up story where I became a scientist. A drunk, shitty scientist.

See, I didn't have to work Monday. I already had a healthy beer buzz. I had a bottle of rum and a grip of limes. And I had the bottle of Kambucha in the fridge.

Of course I said fuck it. Time to get drunk for the sake of Science.

I tapped out midway through my second lowball of straight rum on ice. To be honest, I didn't even want the second one. I didn't even really want the first one, actually. It just seemed to me that to waste the circumstances, or to not follow through all the way would be folly. Go big or go home, so to speak.

I drank the tea. I hated it. I went to bed.

I woke up with a hangover. Perhaps it may have been worse. I don't know.

Retro me.

After the realization that I came to which I described in the previous post, I found myself gravitating toward the tracks. These are the kind of places that I liked to photograph when I first got into photography about 10 years ago. I used to go there and do detail shots of aged and broken shit. I know, its not original, but its fun. I still like the act of photographing this crap, and I always seem to like the results.



I think I'm going to put together a book filled with nothing but rusted, vacant buildings and shitty old cars. I'm going to send it to Target and tell them that I specialize in weekly circular product photography with a emphasis on women's feminine products.

NE gone wild.

I had this idea at the beginning of doing the NE thing that I would just shoot houses, bars, buildings, etc. That hasn't exactly worked.



You know what though, fuck it man. People that know me would probably tell you that I am quite the orderly person. I keep my surroundings basically uncluttered and my life in general as together as I can. That mental framework is dangerous if left unchecked, though. For instance, I've noticed it at times slithering into my photographic vision. Yeah, if your an ad photographer, having a preconceived vision isn't just beneficial, its kind of essential.



On the other hand, if you're a dude who is just running around taking photos of your neighborhood, your lunch, or whatever else interests you, a uncompromising eye is just too goddamn dangerous.

Therefore, I'm just going to make photos. I'll sort shit out after I'm done.

Truce... broken.

I haven't blogged in a while, yes, but I was on one of the most exhausting jobs I've ever been on. Typing after work seemed daunting, and actually picking up a camera was downright impossible.

The last two nights, though, I got off my ass again and went out to try to make some art. Shitty art, good art, irrelevant and unoriginal art, whatever it takes. It worked too! I got some decent stuff. I even took a picture of that hot dog that I've been wanting to shoot for a few weeks.

I'm telling you this because, as I type, I couldn't give a flying fuck about any of that whatsoever. As I was putting the finishing touches on some NE project worthy photos, I caught a glimpse of this greasy rat-soup motherfucker.



Did he not receive the memo? The Evil Little Geniuses and I had a cordial thing going here so far this summer. They stay the fuck out of my yard, I don't apply lead to their dome piece. Its possible that he knew my stats from last summer, and that about 92% of my registered kills came in the backyard. Perhaps the little gambler was just playing the numbers. Did he realize, though, that I'm sitting on a shit-ton of ammo and its seems like a goddamn waste of money not to use it? In this economy?

I'm not a barbarian. After this one-shot, ultra-clean/fast kill, I at least had the decency remove his corpse from where it lay. A more insensitive man may have let it be run over by my neighbors truck.

I scooped it up in a pizza box and dropped it in the trash.

Mac's Industrial

So I went to Mac's yesterday for some beer and some chess. Right. In addition to that, I was witness to one of the most boss-ass, super burgers that a guy should ever try to wrestle down. And its not one of those "Eat this fucking burger and we'll give it to you free" things... its a regular menu item.

Say hello to the 'Livin' The Dream Burger'.



FYI... that is a slab of special cream cheese along with fried onion rings. Also, I had to ask the man in charge of constructing my edible death wish, Brian Kapke, to leave a bunch of those 'burning rings of fire' off... I'm not sure I had the right lens to get it all in one shot while maintaining the integrity of the background... seriously. Anyway, he was game and did as well at styling this amount of sheer mass as a dude could ever ask.

With the beautiful light on this night, I had grandiose plans of going out after eating and adding some more photos to the NE project. No fucking way. Super fat. It was as much as I could do to make it home and take a half-assed picture of my pantry... from my knees.