Tuesday, September 27, 2005

"The men were here to get your Belgian things...

...they'll store them for you in an airplane hanger. There's guys in biohazard suits, mud caking on their rubber boots, they've come to keep your pretty things from danger..."

Fiber paper has to rinse for half an hour before you let it dry. The system here involves an intricate plastic tank with small, clear plastic vertical holds, like a mapchest on its back. The effect is, after hours in the dark room, printing, testing, breathing deep chemicals that ought not be breathed, singing alone along to Oingo Boingo, glorious. Sitting, reading Gould's Book of Fish (thanks Pete) with Andrew, Jesse, Jess, Glen, and the snows of Brno staring out of plastic and water at me... It's a good nostalgia.

There will be pictures on Flickr pretty swiftly. Carla got printed, and I find that I only print the good times. It's not even purposeful... as a kinda-photographer, it would be a waste of time to make prints of pictures that aren't that good, and the ones that are good enough are days in parks and nights out and that first snow fall and my days in Prague with Traci. The wave of mutilation and the self-portaits of depressed me in the dark bathroom at five a.m.

just aren't worth printing, purely aesthetically.

Weird how that works out.

MUSIC: the mountain goats: your Belgian things

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