Stuff I Shot in the Park

My first awkward attempts at shooting in other mode than auto.

Advertisements

Another Instaweek

I’m still on Instagram. And still taking pictures of crap. This week I couldn’t have even been bothered to take pictures of proper crap, so I’d just point my phone camera in a random direction and call the result abstract, conceptual and minimalist. That’s a polite way of saying that something is plain dumb and shows zero effort.

IMG_20180326_190042_454
26 March: Still traumatised by a blackout that happened forever ago and caught me in the act of not having a torch, I purchased a candle holder. Cheaper than a torch and doesn’t need batteries.
IMG_20180327_142643_292
27 March: The Day of the Triffids. That’s another trauma of mine, this time a childhood one. Ever since I read this book, I’ve been wary of plants. Admit it. This plant looks so scary.
IMG_20180328_222832_554
28 March: I was forced to sew a button back on my pants so I could wear them and I hated it.
IMG_20180330_135246_602
29 March: I unregistered from paying radio broadcast fees and since I now officially must not own a radio, I tossed my unused radio alarm on the shoe rack, ready to take it to the pawn shop. By the shape of its loop aka noose, I assume the device suggests I hang myself.
IMG_20180330_224857_035
30 March: You think you’re seeing a night light show? You’ll never believe me but it’s really a picture of bubbles on my coffee shot with flash. Yep.
IMG_20180401_021246_789
31 March: That’s not a disused flag but my bed sheets. Changing the bed was the highlight of the day. I so much hate doing it, jumping from one end of the bed to the other and trying to fit the supposedly fitted sheet.
IMG_20180401_183317_027
1 April: I’m either twelve or I never grew up because journaling in these super cute notebooks is super idiotic when an adult does it. I apologise if you’re doing it too. I don’t mean you, I mean me.

 

Bringing Light to Instagram

Do you think this post is going to be about my enlightening Instagram? Gotcha! Of course not. You should know better now than to trust me. I bring gloom and doom wherever I go, including Instagram.

Since the last week’s power outage, I’ve been entirely enthralled with manifestations of light. Light is good, especially artificial light, because artificial light means the power is on. And so is WiFi.

So I bring to your attention another instalment of my photo-a-day project (which I’m still denying I’m doing), as originally posted on Instagram.

IMG_20180319_153914_409
19 March: Go, Cheddar, go! Cheddar didn’t but I went to get groceries.
IMG_20180320_224808_019
20 March: The grocery mission was an unqualified success. For a small fee, I will organise your fridge all neat and nice like this. I’m OCD, that’s what I do.
IMG_20180321_181650_459
21 March: This is my flat entry door. I think someone forgot to throw in a threshold. Light Exhibit #1.
IMG_20180322_180610_743
22 March: That’s a perfectly useless random window in a wall between two rooms. But, good for Light Exhibit #2.
IMG_20180324_143528_025
23 March: I wasn’t drunk when taking this. My phone apparently was. But it’s Light Exhibit #3.
IMG_20180324_182202_470
24 March: I changed the bulb. Not ideal, but I never said I was a good janitor. Light Exhibit #4.
IMG_20180325_194746_737
25 March: I specialise in low-res grainy shitty photos. Street Light Exhibit #5.

 

What Happens on Instagram…

What happens on Instagram doesn’t stay on Instagram. That sounds catchy and cheesy, right? What I mean is that I give you literally what I posted on Instagram last week, continuing in my snap-a-day thingy.

IMG_20180312_155429_192
12 March: It’s been raining and the tile on my balcony appears rusty, which is curious, given it’s not even made of metal.
IMG_20180313_123854_418
13 March: The skies haven’t fallen yet. Though doom and gloom are constantly impending.
IMG_20180314_121501_110
14 March: I lit a candle and it was red and warm and nice.
IMG_20180315_195740_459
15 March: Today was the day when I, as every day, made coffee. 
IMG_20180316_201901_884
16 March: That’s my cat’s spot. The other day I made the mistake of using the at the moment vacant spot to fold laundry. Bad idea. Now all my laundry is furry.
IMG_20180317_153839_989
17 March: Kids are fascinating creatures. They need so little to amuse themselves. These look like Star Wars kids. In the modest conditions of the tenement culture, of course.
IMG_20180318_214236_881
18 March: Light, light! I almost loved that, but I don’t have the capacity, obviously.

I Hate Being the Janitor

I present a new instalment in my Janitor from in Hell Series, which starts with my installation in the concierge function, continues with an epic flood, and I wish I could say it ends here, but the tragic story goes on.

I don’t hate being the janitor. I fucking hate being the janitor. I’m exceptionally unsuited for the execution of this post. I know next to nothing about maintenance, I’m not passionate about the vision of making the tenement a better place and, most of all, I panic in emergencies.

The other day my janitorship struck back at 10:30 PM, while I was sitting at my office-slash-kitchen table, watching people pretending to be surgeons dissecting a tumour on Grey’s Anatomy, and munching Oreos. On which the power went off. My mother would observe that it was surely a divine strike punishing me for eating Oreos for dinner. On which I’d retort that I’m Buddhist and fully confident that the universe doesn’t give a shit about my eating habits.

I finished my Oreos while the buffered video was still running on the laptop and then went to explore. I didn’t get farther than the corridor when I realised that the power was off, hear, hear, and since there is no god in this godless building, there was no light. The flashlight function on my phone didn’t turn out to be exactly powerful, but I managed to stalk my way in the street and confirm the worst.

IMG_20180318_171001-01.jpeg
And there was (no) light

No, there was no zombie apocalypse, that wouldn’t have been so bad since I’m already half-dead and why not take it to the next level, right? The worst thing was that the outage was in my building only. Which is where the janitorial hero comes in and saves the light and WiFi. I’m kidding, of course. This was when I picked the phone and called the landlord to ask where the fuck were fuse boxes in this forsaken building.

The operation was much more complex than it sounds. Apparently, you can either be conducting a call or flashing the flashlight on the phone, not both simultaneously. Don’t tell me that I should’ve grabbed a regular flashlight. I couldn’t find it because there was no light, see? If you don’t see, nevermind, neither did I. So I grabbed a lighter and kept the flame on while operating on the fuse box, which I probably deemed a good idea. It’s not like it’s the main gas shutoff valve. Is it?

Neither the landlord’s instructions nor my description of the situation proved particularly productive. I spent an hour haunting the building and hunting fuse boxes, while burning my fingers on the lighter and exchanging profanities with the landlord. Then I decided that I.WASN’T.FUCKING.DOING.IT, gave up and returned to my flat to die of exposure, since the heating doesn’t work when there’s no power. Before settling down to die, it occurred to me that I had a candle, which I duly lit, because I needed to pee and didn’t want to miss the bowl. Yes, I know I’m a girl, but it was dark enough to miss the bathroom entirely.

I retired in the bed, wearing all I have. I googled generators, in case I survive, because the next time this happens, I want to be able to boil some bloody water at least. Then I decided I’d go the medieval way and prepared to start burning books. Then I fell asleep and dreamt of an electrician alighting from a white unicorn with a rainbow horn, chanting Let there be light and resurrecting me and the electricity alike.

In the morning, the summoned electrician arrived in a yellowish van, presumably originally white, which was in the final phase of entropy. He asked what happened. Dunno, I chattered my teeth. Life, I guess. The torch-bearer worked his magic on one of the switches, which was in the off position, though I swear it was in the on position when I left it. Okay, I don’t swear, I don’t know what I was doing. On which the power went on.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Another Story

In response to WP Weekly Photo Challenge: Story.

This may or may not make for a good story, probably not, not because I’m negativist but because you should shut up when fishing not to disturb the fish. So I hear, but I wouldn’t know, I get my fish in the supermarket.

18-03-08-story02.JPG

Staring into That Good Night

So it’s night and I go to smoke
Outside
And see—so many fucking stars
Just hanging up there
Flickering like crazy

(Maybe
Some of them are planes)
Anyway
Here’s the epiphany:
I feel existential fear
Because I’m so tiny

So tiny
I can’t see but a microscopic bit
The whole of it I can’t see
Because of these spiky things
Of roofs
Thrusting upwards into the sky
(Not going gentle into that good
night)

They’re cutting out a miniature piece
For me to see
While the whole of the universe
Is laughing at me
Bastard

IMG_20180212_182633-01

Weekly Photo Challenge: Story

In response to WP Weekly Photo Challenge: Story.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table.
—T. S. Eliot

So what’s the story here? I don’t know about the story in the above poem, except that the poet was crazy, as poets are prone to be, which is my professional opinion of a doctor of literature. I picked the poem as an epigraph because I really like the comparison of the sky to the operating table. So cute. And as sterile as the airport corridors in the below photo. I don’t know about the story of the photo either, but come on, there must be a plenty of stories in there! It’s an airport for fuck’s sake. There are always stories where there are people.

18-03-07-story.jpeg

What I do know is my story at this airport. It was the first of the gazillion circles of hell, as not imagined even by Dante, who had no imagination, which was my recent business trip. Everything that could possibly go wrong duly did, and my boss, who is a pathological optimist and liar, kept on saying We’re on a pleasure trip, it’s an adventure! First, a business trip is not a pleasure trip. Second, you only call a fuckup an adventure when you’re talking to a child whom you’re saving from a disaster and whom you don’t want to frighten. And why, yes, I’m a pathological negativist.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Out of This World

In response to WP Weekly Photo Challenge: Out of This World.

I’m not a frequent traveller, less so a frequent flyer, so the night-lit landscape as seen from the plane on my recent enforced business trip was quite otherworldly to me. I mean, it is lovely, but I do hope to avoid travelling in the future, as it’s on the list of top things I hate the most.

 

Weekly Photo Challenge: A Face in the Crowd

In response to WP Weekly Photo Challenge: A Face in the Crowd.

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.
—Ezra Pound

18-02-21-face1