Tutorial: How a Man Dies

The link I'm providing here has nothing to do with political affiliation or persuasion of any sort. The truth is, this man is reminiscent to me of numerous people, even things, witnessed and experienced in my life. I was just too accustomed to them being around. I never stopped to appreciate their value, their relevance, their goddamn moxie. Actually, in most cases I was just too young and/or stupid, but thats neither here nor their after it all comes to pass, isn't it?

This, folks, is a man who isn't scared to face the end.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/27/us/politics/27year.html?hp=&pagewanted=all

OK, I know what you're thinking. A real man of 2009 might know how to make a link work from his own fucking blog. Accept me for the tech-challenged man that I am, and go read some goddamned Churchill or Twain or something... watch Rambo, I don't care.

The Whiskey Reduxer

I had a Jameson and a High Life a few months back. Big surprise, right? Anyway, I took a quick, unplanned photo of them before I proceeded. I had my Nikon with me, but like I said, it was unplanned and Jimmy's isn't exactly the brightest place you can get a drink. So, I set my camera at a REALLY high ISO, took a few snaps, and loved the result so much so that that shot has been lingering in my picks for my nearly finished food portfolio.

I thought about it yesterday morning, though, and figured it would be folly to not go back to Jimmy's in the middle of the day when its slow, and try it again for real. The bartender J.J. liked the idea and was more than helpful. Shit, he even gave me a stand in whiskey-looking drink to use while I was finding my angle.

So the new one is on the right...



For the sake of upholding mine and J.J.'s rigid standards of truth in advertising, we decided to go with real whiskey for the photo. It had a life after hollywood.

Jennie's Big Special Day.

Jennie had been planning this day off for 2 wweeks. The only stipulation was Jimmy's. Easy enough.



After a while, I decided to go over to Hannahville and have him cut my hair. This would be the first time in, I don't know, 15 years that someone besides myself has done this. Dan Hannah is a special dude, and his operation is anything but typical.

Vintage lovin' 2

I'm not one for posting old photos just because they might bling out my fucking blog, but I'm doing anyway right now. I was searching through a hard drive to find a different photo when I found this on accident. I've always loved this photo, but I can't exactly say why.



As far as I can tell, this may be the first photo that I ever took that was worth a shit. I took it 12 years ago, right when I started taking photos. My dad gave me the camera(Pentax Spotmatic) a couple years earlier, but I only used it to photograph this girls ass once. Thats not creepy like you're thinking right now, because she later became my girlfriend of 5 years.

So yeah, I think this is my first cool picture. Lucky as hell, obviously, but cool.

Food project gets 1,000 volts straight to the groin!

Ok, I'm broke right now. Not much has changed since my trip to the tax persons. Actually, I no longer get mail from the IRS, so I guess thats progress.

Whatever the case, I've been about 3/4 of the way to having enough images to put together a food portfolio that I can be proud of. I've been putting it off lately, but I woke up with some inspiration today and said fuck it, I'm going for a double.

Started at Tanpopo in St. Paul at 11 AM. Japanese noodle place that I've eaten at maybe 5 times prior(including the day before today). Its never been anything but outstanding.



This needs to be said. I've eaten 3 times in the last 3 days in St. Paul. This is not normal for me... I'm a 612er. I imagine that this is what it would feel like to cheat on your girlfriend.

As 3 PM rolled around, I went for a snack at the new restaurant in the Guthrie. I'm not usually one to get seafood in this city, but its Tim McKee's new baby, and I'm pretty sure that guy could take Lucky Charms and milk and somehow make it better than you could.



Yeah, it was as good as I hoped. Looking at my would-be portfolio now, I see that this is the second time I shot a Prawns. Super fucking stupid. Guess I'll have to go back.

A real American awesome weekend.

I had an exceptionally good weekend of weather, friends, sleep, and everything else that means jack shit. I even got to go see G.I. Joe!









Given the circumstances and my history with Hasbro(G.I. Joe in particular), I am glad I went to see the movie and would do it again given the same situation.

In other words... holy fuck that movie sucked some ASS!

Why I love booze.

This video was, is, and always will be one of my all time favorites. I can only imagine the amount of liquor that led these two into thinking that moving a stump with a bike was a good idea.



I love it when the shirt comes off!

Lush

This place just opened in an old machine shop right across Central Ave from where I live. This proximity is important for reasons that I will explain. Its a new gay-friendly bar/restaurant/club... apparently with a heavy emphasis on club. This is cool because now, my once sleepy corner of Central has upped its fun factor from one old standard bar(Vegas Lounge) to three places. Tickles is the other joint, and thats a gay piano bar that is actually not nearly as gay as 'Tickles, the gay piano bar' makes it sound.

Geiger and I decided to go check out brunch here today and man, all I can say is that everything just fucking sucked. Except the cool looking ice. They spent the money for one of those specialty wiz-bang ice machines that all the fashionable cocktail places are using. And since I'm a sucker for shit like that, I actually don't mind paying an extra buck for pretty ice in my cocktail.

Anyway, like I said, everything just sucked. I won't hold it against them, though, they have only been open for like 48 hours.



The only thing I'm worried about with this place is parking. Due to the whole proximity to my house thing, and their tiny parking lot, there is bound to be some overflow into my street. Thats fine and all, but this is a neighborhood with families and other people who are just not generally accustomed to hordes of drunken club dudes wandering around their yards. And this has NOTHING to do with them being young drunk GAY dudes. It has to do with them being YOUNG DRUNK gay DUDES. Ask any older, civilized gay man... they'll tell you that a drunk dude is a drunk dude is a drunk dude.

More Pyka time...

...but not enough. I wish I could have spent more time firing around with the little bugger, because she lives far away. Once again, though, money and the pursuit thereof interferes with what is actually important in life. At least I had fun with the time I was allotted, I guess.

Pyka and I for life!

I took dozens of photos of my niece in the last few days that I would be proud to post. This isn't a cute baby blog, though, and none of them could ever sum up how I feel about her more than the one that Justin took of us together.

The battle rages on...

I'll have to sit on the porch during the day and watch movies more often! I assumed that the fuckers would hang low on a hot, sunny day like this. So, so wrong, Kelly. So wrong.



This dude took one epic ride to his demise. I caught him crossing from one tree to another. I didn't see him fall, but I sure as hell heard it! He hit my neighbors moving truck right on the cab. It sounded like some sort of super shit gong. BONG! It was all I could do to sit there for a while and act like I didn't just get another bitchin' kill, but I had to put the gun away and be cool... just in case. Then he crawled to damn near the exact middle of the street and died... very Wild West like little buddy!

A little while later I got a lock on another one. Couldn't pull the trigger, though, because 2 women were walking down the sidewalk. Here is the fucked up part of this shit story, though. When they saw the squirrel, they called him by NAME!(skuggins or smuggins or schluggins... who cares, right?). Then they fucking asked him what he was doing hanging out by a tree that wasn't his! Oh my god, it seems like I have some serious work to do on the PR side, as well as with the body count. Whatever though, cause I'm an uncle now and I do this shit for the kids.

6 month old baby kickin' it poolside!

My niece Pyka is in town from Colorado. Last time I posted a picture of her, she was about the size of a fishing lure. Now, she's a pretty burly chick! Tall and svelte, just like her favorite Uncle Kelly.



We're going to kick SO much ass together when she is old enough to drive.

Johnson!

A couple of days ago, we were driving down Hennepin when Jeff yells "Shit, Kelly, I just saw your costume for this Halloween!". So we turn around and stop outside the costume rental place. At first, I didn't see what he was referring to, but I also didn't consider the contents of their dumpster as an option.

Jeff did.



Have fun with your new Scabies dude.

Zombie Apocalypse

Here is the scenario. The Zombie Apocalypse happens tonight. 99.9% of the populace becomes the traditional, slow-moving zombies. You are one of the survivors. You get 3 weapons right off the get go. Ammo is virtually unlimited for the first few days as you get your shit together and figure out how to progress in your new reality.

What weapons would you take?

This seemingly absurd question(as well as many related to it) has been on my mind for weeks. I can't seem to shake it. I'm positive that I'm getting on my coworkers nerves by now. I hope that by confronting this on my blog, it will have a cathartic effect, and I can put the issue to rest.

That having been said, here are my pics.



From left to right we have the M4 Carbine, a Mack 10, and a goddamn American-made Louisville Slugger.

The M4(with the grenade launcher of course) would hopefully be my most used weapon. If this is so, it means I'm keeping the walking dead grizzly whores where I should be keeping them... far away.

The Mack 10 was suggested by my friend Eric. Its a brilliant close range option. If they get in that 15 ft range(they will, they're ZOMBIES!), I can peel off like 19 .45 rounds a second and deliver exploded heads in waves.

Inevitably, though, I'm going to reload. Occasionally, a zombie will get too close for me to take chances with. Out comes the trusty Louisville Slugger. Others chose samurai swords, axes, etc... all acceptable. Personally, though, I love the romance of the Slugger. America may be a land of the walking dead ex-Pats, but that doesn't mean that I can't hold onto a little piece of patriotism.

I encourage you all to invest some time in thinking about this subject. After all, Jacko just died and one could view that as a sign.

You may even want to pretend to be a zombie once and a while. Its always prudent to know your enemy.

Cumberland and Waupaca

I'm not sure I'm spelling Waupaca right, but life goes on. I didn't really get around to posting some of the photos that I wanted to from vacation and these will probably be the last of them. Hopefully, I'll have fresher stuff coming and I'll forget all about this stuff.



Waupaca is such a bitchin hotbed of hedonism. OK, not really, but even on this, the worst year(weather wise) of the past many, we still did what was necessary to make loveable asses out of ourselves. And check out this sign!



Where other than Wisconsin will you see this sign TWICE in the same goddamn town?!?! They're fucking ORDERING you to drink beer!

Hennepin Ave Bridge

This goddamn Grainbelt Beer sign is one of the most recognizable outposts of NE Mpls. For anyone with class, this is like a beacon of wonderful, pure light when exiting the godforsaken, loathsome, repugnant area known as downtown Minneapolis.

This sign used to be a respected icon of the city. Unfortunately, for all the great things that come with living in a liberal metropolis, there are also some detestable examples of overreaching.



This sign USED to be lit up on the side opposite of this photo. Some 'morally correct' people decided that it was a bad example for our children or whatever. Unfortunately, they had enough clout to pull the plug on it so it is no longer lit at night. Good thing, too, because I'm sure that this unique specter of the city's history was enough to push scores of otherwise perfectly christian members of our great society to fall off the moral cliff of righteousness and into the valley of deprivation, drunkenness, and pure evil.

As a personal and silent protest, I'm not taking a single photo of the business side of this fucking sign until the lights are back on.

And heres the fucking mighty Mississippi... free from my angst and just down the road.

Vintage lovin'

As I've said before, this project has shifted from what I originally intended it to be. I'm fine with that. I won't lie though, at this point in time I seem to be looking for shitty cars... and nothing else. I shouldn't say shitty cars, either... shame on me. These are mostly old cars. Rusty cars. Weathered cars. Certainly not shitty cars, though. They're 20+ years old, and are still being used by their loving owners as transportation. So it kinda irritates me when people talk shit about these things. They look BETTER with age. Try saying that about your Saturn. Or your Ford Focus. Or your goddamn golden-shit colored PT Cruiser. You can't. You know why? Cause those rolling pieces of doo-doo won't last that fucking long.





Fuck your couch.

NOT Kelly Loverud day.

Let me start by saying that I accidentally got REALLY liquored up last night. I caught up with a friend over some beers and the shit just continued and continued and then spiraled the fuck down hill.

So I started my day this morning in the hole big time. I forged ahead, though, cause I knew that things were only going to get better.

Wrong.



Can you fucking believe the size of the rip in my FAVORITE GODDAMN PAIR OF SHORTS?!?! Of corse this shit happened within an hour of my 10 hour work day, so I could walk around all day showing my undies to anyone unfortunate enough to look in my direction. I'm sure the clients loved it. Very professional Kelly, you douche bag.

But hey, my hangover finally went away at around 5 o'clock. So what better way to celebrate that then by sticking my head into a ceiling fan? Right? Yeah!



This was taken about 45 seconds after it got me. I would have taken another photo after it swelled up and started to look really ugly, but I had a new headache and I was no longer in a fucking around mood. Plus I had a dude named Dan O mending my wound with some sort of spray glue. Dan O's only qualification for this is that he is on a hockey team. I'm looking forward to the inevitable scar.

NE from above.

This is the view of NE Minneapolis from the west side of the river. I'm fortunate enough to have a friend who has a condo over yonder, and there is nothing I enjoy more than enjoying the view of my home from above.



When I sit on this porch, I feel like that dude Sauromon from Lord of the Rings, Two Towers... but instead of lording over a bunch of orcs and goblins, I'm lording over a bunch of meat raffles and pull tabs and shitty hair and what not.

4 AM

Again, more after-bar shenanigans as we decided to break out the Misfits masks. It started innocently enough, with us just taking off some clothes and searching for weapons. Eventually, of course, we(I) decided it would be funny to post up on the side of a country road with a sickle, chain, and some beer... and wait for a car to come by.



A car never drove by in a half of an hour. We took photos instead.

Kate's posse

My old friend Kate brought her kids up to Cumberland for the first leg of our vacation. She reminded me that I'm a dick because they only live an hour away, but I haven't seen them in about 2 years. As if I need reminding. Kate, you'll be happy to know that I have plenty of people reminding me of that... and on a regular basis.

Cole


Ben


Dog

Chicken Fried Seth

Yeah, its been a while since I rapped about anything. When this dude goes on vacation, though, this dude GOES ON VACATION.

And I'm sorry that my first post in weeks has to be this photo of Seth. It was the first notably fucked thing that happened on my vacation.



After we got home from the bar on our first night in Wisconsin, we did some brainstorming and came up with a list of names to describe Seth's back. Here they are, and in no particular order...

Epidermal Buffet
Snack Back
Skinitos
DNA Roll-Ups
Sun Yuns
BBQ Rotisserie Back Slab
Skin Jim
Skingles
Trail Back
Baby Back Back
Peel and Eat Seth

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.

NE, sunday

I've been known to jump to conclusions at times when it comes to changes in my neighborhood. As I've stated before, I HATE the 331, The Bulldog, and the Red Stag. Its not only that they're shit, its that they're newcomers. I understand that this is stupid. I understand that I sound like a curmudgeonly, cantankerous old fuck. I don't apply this stupidity to everything, though. Restaurants get a free pass in my idiotic book. Bars do not.

Anyone who has been in this neighborhood long enough probably has a certain amount of nostalgia for Mac's sports bar. No, it wasn't in the mold of the sports bar of today, the mold which has effectively made certain that I will never enter another again. It had true class, real character. So when they knocked the fucker down and put up condos, you can probably imagine my angst.

Then, when a bar opened up across the street and named itself Mac's Industrial Sports Bar(?), I pretty much wrote that one off as well. Fortunately, I'm not quite as inflexible as I come across as being. Its a good place with good beer and good people. I'm not a fan of a bunch of windows in bars, though. Mac's is ALL fucking windows. This works fine in the summer. Come winter, I don't want to see that shit, I want to pretend I'm in Acapulco or something.



I'm even starting to warm up to the goddamn condos across the street. I still think the architects were arrogant pricks to design a building on the cheap that didn't resemble a fucking thing surrounding it, but whatever...

More random NE

I didn't really plan on doing shots like this one for the NE project, but I'm throwing it out there to see how it feels.



Also, I know I said no people, but I had to stick this dude in here somewhere. I figure if I piggyback it onto a church shot for now, somehow that is more acceptable.



Thats impressive huh? The hair, not the church.

100th post!

This is post #100. I can't believe that I stuck with this for as long as I have. As anyone who has been unlucky enough to be peer pressured by myself into following this shit could tell you, it has been strange. I never had any ideas about where it was going and I still don't. Here, though, is a brief chronology of where it has been.

1. A place for friends to view drunk Bay to Breakers photos from San Fran.
2. Random crap.
3. A documentary of the War with the Squirrels.
4. Random crap.
5. Burningman photos.
6. More from the front line of the Squirrel War.
7. Random crap.
8. The food project starts(still going)
9. Random crap.
10. The Northeast project starts



So, thank you to anyone durable enough to have read a bunch of my posts. As you now know, I utilize this blog more as a diary than anything else. And I'm sorry if I have offended anyone with my corse language or crude ideas.

Here is a smattering of some of my favorite entries from the past year

Squirrel War Begins!
The Native American Squirrel Significance Bullshit
Mr. America
Pyka!
Food project starts
The Beer Stick
The Kramarchek's fuck-story
Jimmy's
Modern pot roast
This billboard SUCKS