Photo: January 2004 Archives

I like this photo more than most. This is probably because I don't like it just for its photo-ness. By far, the most proud-making bit is that I didn't have to touch anything at all on the table to get the shot. We're just that nerdy.

Oh, and I apperantly didn't post anything the 21st, which spoiled my otherwise perfect "post something every day" thing, this month. Which is kind of a bummer, since I was looking forward to the downhill slide into infrequent postings and neglect that is the eventual fate of practically every blog. Alas, maybe next month will be the high point, the beginning of the end.

This is from the Engineering Stores/Store in the Seaman's Center at the University of Iowa. Getting back behind the counter went something like this:

Man: You want to what-now?

Me: You know, just set up and photograph the area. Shelving, cabling, machinery, that sort of thing.

Man: Let me ask, (yelling) Hey Bob? Some guy wants to photograph our parts.

Man in other room: (yelling) Which parts?

Man: (yelling) I don't think he knows.

Man in other room: (yelling) Uh, ok.

Man: Sure, have at it.

For some reason, that was much more funny before I started typing it. Shut up.

I've finally gotten a load of negatives scanned. Glorious 22 megabyte tiff files. Which would, I imagine, cheese Keef off good'n'proper, were I to toss them on his graciously provided hosting. But that doesn't mean I can't serve up the scaled down version to you, steaming hot.

This is something off the scrap heap that didn't end up in my final project last semester. I plan on taking the fat-ass tiffs of the 15 photos that did end up in my final project, make a nice gallery of them with reasonably large versions, and toss them up on my ACM account. You know, at some point. But for now, I've got a load of...well...out-takes?

I'm really not satisfied with how the scans look. I suppose I could tweak them more, but I'm not sure they'll ever look as nice as when they're printed on proper photo paper, rendered in silver. Such is life.

It's -20 with wind chill here today. And I just saw some dozy fuck wandering around in a kilt.

I should apologize to readers who haven't spent much time in and around Iowa City. This entry may not be terribly interesting or meaningful.

In 1998, when I was a freshman at the University of Iowa, the question naturally arose: "Where can you go at 3AM, any night of the week, in order to drink coffee and smoke?" Down town, few places are open past bar closing and virtually none are open by 3am. This quandary naturally led me to a wondrous place far from campus: Donutland.

Donutland, where you could order and receive food without the clerk ever saying a word.

Donutland, where the "No Smoking" section was all but meaningless.

Donutland, the 24 hour paradise of confectionery consumption.

Donutland, the magical land of foreign students and creepy old men, has closed.

Another night at work, another 14 hours spent digging for some sort of novelty using nothing but a computer and a network connection, another entry filled with random shit I happen across.

The vegetarian girlfriend made me pork stir-fry to take to work tonight. I'm interested to see how that turns out.

Update:
Oh sweet jesus this is good stuff.

I fucking love shooting these. It just doesn't get old. I blame the fact that every single day, they're all slightly different than they were the day before. Or...you know...that whole genitalia angle, I suppose.

Iowa City, District 21:

Dean: 146 votes for 2 delegates

Kucinich: 122 votes for 2 delegates

Kerry: 100 votes for 1 delegate

Edwards: 78 votes for 1 delegate

Caucuses rule. The shouting, the bargaining, all the shit a regular election is lacking.

Finally, I bring you: The Republican Caucus across the hall.

Time to go stand in some stinking school gym and switch my registration to "Democrat." Then steal an extra form so I can mail the auditor tommorow for the purposes of switching back to "Independant." Ain't democracy fun?

By the by, if you're into the whole predictive futures market thing over here they have some political markets that have been fun recently.

I think the fact that making a pinhole camera out of paper seems like a really good idea is ongoing proof that I have no idea what I'm talking about.

It's been a suprisingly relaxed weekend at work. Apperantly nothing much got done last week, so there's very little new or changed to make stuff break.

I'd like to think that listening to BBC news in Hindi is a form of brushing up for the start of the semester...but let's face it, it sounds like "blah blah blah blah today blah blah blah Masharef blah blah blah blah Muslim blah blah blah blah five blah blah blah blah blah no blah blah people blah France blah blah blah blah." But it's fun.

So, when I went in to get my check, I ran into my manager's manager. I asked him: "So, everyone has to meet with an executive yesterday or today, yeah?" He kind of half-laughed. "Oh, you got that one, too? I suppose they just used the "all employees" alias. Don't sweat it, just keep sending your timesheets to the same people and don't worry about it. That whole meeting thing was just for the real...erm...day employees."

This further confirms my theory that no one lays off the janitor.

End note: No, I'm not the janitor. I'm a weekend 3rd and 1st shift NOC Monkey/Pager bitch. In other words, as long as they have a datacenter that needs to be in operation 24/7, they need some gullible bastard to stay awake. And no one else is itching for the job. In other words, I'm a step above the janitor. The computer industry's janitor.

Additional, shortly after posting. Did I mention that this flower smells like chocolate? No? Well, now I did.

So...the company I work for is "executing its merger" today, with another company.

Apperantly, I'm expected to "speak with an executive" about "my place in the new company." Apperantly, everyone is expected to.

Now, my question is: Would this be a good time to ask for a raise?

You're right mom, such language is not befitting a gentleman. I can only assure you that it was father's habit of using foul language with clients and subordinants when I was a tender age that did it. I can only assure you that it won't happen again.

Love,

Tanner

And now...tame, wholesome family fun! Aquarium filling!

North Market Park (or whatever it's called) at 3:30AM.

Hey, these orchids don't look like anyone's genitalia. I feel cheated.

Update, way after the fact.

For the record, lamping is hanging out or loitering. The likely source of the expression is most likely the old film noir image of a guy in a trench coat, leaning against the pole under a street light. "Cold Lamping" adds that extra element of "chilling out." Apperantly, Flava Flav was largely responsible for introducing this expression to a large audience. But then, if I'm remembering Chuck D right, Flava Flav made everyone call him "Flava." But yeah, there you go.

MC Frontalot now has a live show up over here. I actually like the whole drums and bass thing (in the literal sense) rather than the stock "beats on a cd, queue it up soundman." Sure, there are bits that don't work terribly well. In particular, Braggadocio with the backup guy doesn't quite jibe with me. But, say,
Mountain Kind? Very nice.
Front the Most? Mmmmyes.

Now, is it just me, or is portraying this penny-pinching cheap-ass who is soooo concerned about his fuel budget that he's willing to plan his entire life ahead of time as a plaid-wearing Scotsman slightly...I don't know...odd?

People always make the same sort of joke when they first see our basement. It's always something like "Don't worry, I won't tell the police about your little set up." I suppose having a winter growing operation invites that sort of thing, really. It also gives me something interesting to photograph when it's far too fucking cold to go outside. In defiance of season and climate, I bring you: Orchids.

Mmmmmyes. I've been listening to A Prince Among Things. And reading Prince Paul interviews. And listening to interviews with him. Work rules. Or sucks. You know, whichever one explains the amount of time I've been strapped to this computer.

To answer a question, this is my parent's cat Chiquita.

We got her from the Animal Shelter. According to their paper work, the previous owners had gotten rid of her because she was "not cuddly enough." Basically, they expected a six month old kitten (who they had declawed very early) to act like a 12 year old chilled out lap-cat.

She's actually mellowed considerably. Though she still occasionally bites people as a way of showing affection for being petted. Or as a way of saying "thanks for letting me use your warm lap." Really, she has one of the most varied and communicative bites of any cat I've ever met.

Luckily, she's stopped passing through locked doors and summoning demons. That sort of thing got old kinda fast.

It's like the difference between a slut and a whore...or something. I bring you my latest album cover creation. This is my sixth (fifth? seventh?) creation for Stone Cold Shit records. (Constructing the Perfect Popstar, Live From Your Momma's Bedroom, High Concepts Dumbed Down for the Masses, Unappealing Love Contraption...I know I'm missing something...fuck.) For my own amusement, let me briefly explain how these things work. Dan Butler comes to me and says "Hey, I need the album art for X by tommorow night. Well, actually, everything needs to be finished, printed, copied, folded and inserted by tommorow, honestly. When do you want to do it?" Then, with 5 minutes to spare right before the CD-release show, it is miraculously finished. Then neither of us speaks of it for at least three months. After that, it's an amusing anecdote to tell people in social situations. He'll explain how I screamed at him the whole time, punched things and threw fits. Then I'll explain how he wanted me to scan the "Thriller" album art, in spite of the fact that I didn't have a scanner, much less one that could handle a fucking record album without laborous stiching. Then we'll all have a good laugh until the next time that he pops up and asks for album art. It's a cycle.

In all honesty, I think the only cursing that occured with this one was when the laser printer ran out of toner after Dan's attempt to get Kinko's to print it out wasted three dollars and was half an inch too tall. Actually making it was a piece of cake, since I used nothing but shit I already had on my computer. And I didn't have to gimp in a fro or make anything look 80's rock.

Welcome to Stock-shitty-drunken-party-photography-ville. Population: You.