I miss random.
a friend from back home and I have been exchanging a bunch of e-mails this week. her dog, same age as random walk, has rapidly-spreading liver cancer and will probably be put to sleep next week. now I keep seeing cocker spaniels everywhere, and none of them is little random.
fortunately, I have my camera and my fascination with all things morbid to keep me company. granted, they don't jump up and down and yelp when I ask if they want to eat, but you have to make due with what you've got.
I recently experimented with (2 year old ) 100 ISO speed film. it was fun. since low-speed film requires more light than high-speed film to get an adequately exposed image, photos taken with something as slow as 100-speed have a sort of erie smoothness to them that photos taken with the typical 400-speed don't have. they also tend to turn out blurry, if a tripod isn't used, since you have to use a longer shutter-speed. (I have a few of those too.)
I like this picture.
that little rowboat's got death written all over it. once upon a time, a man, his wife and their baby lived in a small house by the river. one day, the baby became very ill with a fever. alarmed, the man set off in his boat to get help from the nearby village. it was late at night and the river was covered in a dense fog. hours passed and the wife waited. the baby's fever climbed higher and higher, until finally he grew still in his mother's arms. when, at last, the first glow of dawn crept into the sky and the thick fog melted into early-morning steam, she saw a dark shape nearing shore. she flew out the door and down the path, but her relief became a pit of dread as she gazed in horror at the empty boat.
this is where they lived.
and this is the wife washing scrubbing blood off her hands when she finds her husband's body in the garden and realizes she killed him. "out damned spot, out I say! these hands will never be clean!"
just kidding. that would be lady macbeth. the one above is anne hathaway's cottage. but the first one is definitely a boat of death.