Photography

OK, I know, getting bored with the essay type stuff. Trust me, so am I. This is the last one, for now. I'll get back to the bar hopping and whoring before long, something you all want to read about. After all, essay stuff is so BOR-ING.

Alas, no (older) pictures for this post. I'm sorry, everyone. I got the prints out, put them in the scanner, then hit the magic button. Niente. The thing is running, but no images are making it to the computer. Grrr. I tried rebooting, reloading the software, deleting and reloading the hardware profile. Still, niente. I finally noticed little kitty cat bite marks in the cord running from the scanner to the PC. BUTTHEAD!



Trust me, there isn't anything innocent about this cat. When something goes wrong, he's at the heart of it all. Anyway, back to the pictures. Since I can't give you actual images, I'll talk about the different types.

First was the daguerreotype, created by M. Daguerre. With the backing of the French government, he discovered how images could be captured using a very complex process. One exposure could take up to 20 minutes to create, and that was before the print was developed. Hmmm, print is probably not the best word for this type of picture. These pictures were created on a cardboard material that, once developed, were extremely fragile. There also was no way for more than one image to be created. Once the shot was done, that was the only image you could get out of it. This was the only process for a long time, then shortly after Daguerre's death, the paper negative was discovered. This new process allowed for multiple prints to be created using one negative.

One common usage of the paper negative, for a while, was the carte de visite. I have a ton of carte de visite. These are pictures that were taken to give out to guests when they came to visit. The prints were trimmed then glued to cardboard cards. They are similar to business cards of today, but much more personal. If I remember correctly, the carte de visite was made using a large negative and a special camera with multiple lenses. Each lens focused on a different plane and created multiple images on one negative (can't remember how many). Pretty effective. One shot and at least 3 prints.

A lot of pictures were taken in the studio. However, around the Civil War photographers set out to photograph the American West. This started a round of nature photography that hasn't gone away. One picture I have is extremely fragile. It is a shot of a woman standing next to a wooden fence with a deer nuzzling her outstretched hand. What makes the print unique is that there is still a lot of silver on the print. When it is held at an angle to the light the print takes on a bright sheen. It was recommended that I find some archival laminate and laminate the picture to protect it. Oh, and definitely keep it out of long light exposure.

This would have been quite a photo feast, if it hadn't been for the evil Butthead:



How could such a sweet looking cat be such trouble? Just look at the eyes, look deeply into the eyes. It's like staring into the abyss. Can you see the calculating, cunning mind behind those eyes? He is chaos barely maintained in a fur coat.

Damn holiday's!

Ok, I was looking over the past week and realized that, other than my essays, there have been no regular posts. Ooops. I blame the holidays, the end of the quarter drawing near, and impending graduation. With all that going on, as well as looking for the perfect boyfriend, blogging sorta slipped my mind. Ooops, again.

Ok, so now I need to include one weeks worth of fun in one post. Hmmm, what to talk about? Bar hopping? Whoring? Survival of the holidays? Ah, I know!

Me mum told me she would take me out to any restaurant I choose celebrate my graduating high school. Er, college. So I thought about it, checked around and decided on Rigsby's Kitchen. Yah, I know, it's a little pricey (30 - 50 dollars a person) but I hear it's a great place to eat. There is an ulterior motive, which I may have mentioned in a past post. If I did, I canna remember.

Well, let's see. I survived the holiday with minimal scarring. I figured there would be more, especially after last summer's fiasco, but, alas, I survived. What happened, you ask? Let's see, I went to Chicago last summer for a party at a friend's place. Just to make a long story short, I had a little too much to drink, decided I could walk backwards, talk, and drink at the same time, slipped, fell, and sliced open the back of my skull. Let's see, I ended up with 20+ stitches and an excruciating headache. It's only just recently that I could bend my head forward without feeling the scar tissue pull.

I found a new place to hang out. It's called the Columbus Eagle. My friend, Sister Helene, calls it a hole in the wall. Yet, that seems to be the whole reason I like it. It's never very crowded, but it does get busier as the night goes on. My favorite night in Moanday. There's a free movie at 9:30 pm, free popcorn, and no cover charge. Then, after the movie, there's some lite entertainment. So, now that's my new Moanday night hangout. Good thing there are no classes on Tuesday!

I still need to finish my grad school apps. Going to have to do that tonight. I told my professors that I would have the paperwork for letters of recommendation by Moanday. Guess what, that's tomorrow. GRRRR. I shoulda done it yesterday, but I was caught up trying to get my photography assignment done. Then it was dinner at mum's place. By the time I got home, I was too tired to do anything.

What else? For the first time in 6 months, I wasn't at my usual drinking hole on Thursday. Holiday's suck. Hope Kyle didn't miss me too much, if he even worked.

Well, time's a wastin' and I have one more post to go before I can do my thing.

Ci vediamo, ragazzi!

More family pictures

Last time we looked at some of my family pictures and discussed how pictures allowed us to see members of our family that we never would have had a chance to see. For instance, family members from over 100 years ago or our great grandparents when they were younger. They also allow us to see family members who we should have met, but died quite young.



This is a picture of my maternal grandmother. She died when my mother was less than a year old. Since we never met, I can only go on what others in my family had to say about her. Evidently, she and my mother shared a lot of the same characteristics. They even resemble each other. Enough so that when I saw the picture for the first time, I really thought it was my mother. It is the only picture of my grandmother that we have, which makes it that much more precious.

Like I said, I was young, so it never occurred to me that the age of the picture predated my mother's birth. If you know what you are looking for, you can tell the age of the picture by looking at the coloration. I'm going to have to check to be 100% accurate, but I don't think portrait studios had color negatives at that point or, if they did, there was a limited range of colors available. A lot of times, after the picture was taken, the photographer would "color" the picture using special inks. This gave the photograph the appearance of a painting, even when it isn't.

Then there is my Aunt Judy. She died when she was 18, about 3 years before I was born. Here are the pictures of her:


As a baby. Note: the photographer actually signed the picture in pencil.


At about 3 or 4, not sure which


Senior Picture

Of course, not to let my mother get away, here is a picture of her and Aunt Judy together:


Mom and Aunt Judy


Mom's senior picture

Alas, I shouldn't let myself escape from this picture fest. Most people will never know what I looked like when I graduated high school, so here is my senior picture, when I was young and beautiful and fifty pounds lighter (but we won't go there):




It's interesting to note that, had this been just over 150 years ago, none of this would have been possible. I would never have known what my grandmother and aunt looked like, nor would I have been able to see what my mother looked like when she graduated high school. Of course, you would never have known what a real studly I was (not!).

Of course, some pictures never existed. I had a twin brother who died in childbirth. There are no pictures of him; but, being an identical twin I never have to wonder what he would've looked like. All I have to do is look at a picture of myself, or look in a mirror, and I see him. Sometimes, if I look at a picture, I can imagine that it is him I am seeing and not me.

Once, just to see what it would look like, I took two images of myself and combined them into one picture using Paint Shop Pro. It's amazing how powerful pictures can be. At that one moment, more than any other, I missed having him around. Realized how different my life would've been if he had lived. It was such a powerful emotional surge that I couldn't bear to keep the picture and I deleted it. I have never attempted that again.

I imagine that my mother feels the same way when she looks at pictures of her own mother, my grandmother. How different her life would have been had she lived. How different would life have been for all of us if my Aunt Judy had lived. It is a lot easier to look at pictures of people you would never have known rather than pictures of people you should have known and never did.

Okay, enough of the emotional dribble. Next, we'll look and talk about some of the oldest pictures I have. I don't have any daguerreotypes, but I do have pictures that were created using the next generation of photography onward. They are still my family, but they cover a wide range from portrait studios with elaborate sets to carte de visite to and even 1 nature shot (if I can get it scanned correctly).

Family Pics revisited

Ooops, I was just told that I made a serious faux pas with the first picture, the family in Oregon. The bearded man is on the right, not the left. I guess I was thinking their left and not my left. Sorry for the confusion! Anyway, I tried to lighten the picture to make him more visible, but the software I use at home is from MicroCrap, so whaddya expect? If I could find my PaintShop Pro CD, I might have better luck.

I did have a couple questions regarding my great grandparents and why they weren't smiling in either portrait. According to this documentary I saw once upon a midnight dreary, to smile in the late 1800s early 1900s meant that you were up to no good. Smiling was usually seen on people who sold snake venom as medicine, and used car salemen today! Not smiling was a convention of the generation they lived in and not necessarily of portrait making. I have seen home pictures of them smiling: at Christmas, family get togethers, and other less formal events. Just never with portraits like what I've posted.

Family Pics 1

Pictures. We take them for granted, we see them all the time, and some of us are even amateur photographers. They surround us in our everyday lives but none of really stop and think how amazing they really are. Amazing in a way that few of us will ever get a chance to understand.

Why do I say that? Because, how many of you have pictures of family members from over 100 years ago? I'm sure that we have all seen pictures from 50 to 60 years ago when our grandparents started to collect pictures of family; but, have you ever found a really old picture (from 1867) and wondered who they were? What they might have been like? Are they really family???

I guess I am fortunate that I have in my possession such pictures. I remember looking at them when I was younger and wondering just those things. I'd grill my mother incessantly about them, learning the family history. Well, as much as she knew, anyway. Then I'd talk to my great aunt Edith, who, obviously, knew more than my mother.

Still, there are people whom I cannot figure out:



All this picture says is that it is the "family in Oregon". There is no date on the picture, but we guess it is somewhere around 1900. We're pretty sure that the bearded man on the left (who cannot be seen that well) is my great grandfather Stine's brother or uncle. No one is really sure which. Not even my Aunt Edie remembers that much about the family that moved to Oregon.

However, I do know who this lovely couple is:



This is my great grandmother and grandfather Stine on their wedding day. Oh, how the gene pool has thinned since then. They were married until their deaths in the 1960s, so the pic was probably taken just before 1900. Here is a picture taken of them in their final years:



Chances are I never would have met anyone in these pictures. Yet the prints allow me to see what they looked like and talking to others in my family tells me a little about what they were like in life. Poor substitute for the real thing, but I'll take what I can get.

Of course, there are those prints of people who I should have known and never did. We'll take a look at those in my next post.

Thursday has come and gone

Well, another Thursday has come and gone and, I'm sad to say, I have no new and exciting adventures to tell you. Kyle was working but he was training a new bartender, hopefully NOT his replacement, so I didn't get to harass him too much. Howie was working the other end of the bar, so he was too far away. I will mention that Howie is still in his summer attire. Fool! As cold as it was last night his nads must've pulled back up into his abdomen and he had to have a terrible case of shrinkage. Howie, darling, if you're too cold, come over here. I was WAY too warm last night.

The only other thing of consequence last night was the cute guy that was hitting on me. Guess he must've been drunk. Way too drunk if he was hitting on me. I probably would've flirted back if his breath didn't smell like he'd been eating ass all night. And nasty ass at that. I talked to him for a while, trying to stay upwind, and then he left. Maybe next time I see him his breath will be better.

I also saw one of my Nathan's again. He was looking good. Guess he finally got over his break up with his boyfriend. Jeff was there and I talked to him for a while. Then I left about 10:30 or so.

Why, do you ask? I know Kyle did: "Leaving already?"

Yeah, had to go with some friends to watch the new Harry Potter movie. It was the midnight showing, so I had a an hour to sober up. I won't mention much about the movie right now. Let's just say that it held true to the book. There were a few things missing, but nothing key to the plot. I think we're set up for the next movie, whenever it comes out.

Let's see. I got home at 4:00 am, got to sleep at 4:30, then overslept and got up at 1 in the pm. Ooops, so much for my photography class.

Well, must go. I have a statement of purpose to finish writing and a draft of a writing sample to get cracking on. I'm about 1/2 done with the writing sample, but I'm not sure if I can stretch out the paper much more. Guess I'll give it a shot.

Ciao tutti!

Toronto, to start

Well, I spoke with one of my profs about the University of Toronto. Evidently it is one of the best universities in North America for Medieval Lit. Of course, since it is the best it is also one of the hardest to get in to. Hmmm. Decided to wait for my PhD to try to get into there. By then, I'll have proved myself with my Masters degree and will be ready to tackle the big boys. (hehe)

What else? Well, I've applied to OSU, OU, and Notre Dame so far. I think I'm also going to try for Michigan State, Purdue, and Wright State. Wright State is my fall back school. Y'know, the one you know you can get in to, but is not your first, second, or third choice.

Let's see. This weekend is the big Michigan - OSU game. I'm "supposed" to go to the Union Station on Saturday with the guys to watch the game. I warned them that EVERY TIME I watch the Buckeyes play from there they LOSE. EVERY SINGLE TIME!!! Did they believe me? Of course not. So, if they lose, it's not my fault. Blame Ron.

Wait, didn't I already mention this in another blog entry?

Now what? Hmmm, tomorrow is Thursday! Time for more adventures in the big city. Hmmm, what kind of trouble can I get in to? I know a few things, but they may be too racy for a blog.

Of course, no adventures until I get my Statement of Purpose drafted. It "shouldn't" take all day, but I think it might. I don't know what to say about myself. Should I say I'm into Faeries? (Perverts, get your minds outta my gutter!) Get personal, but not too personal. Be informative, but don't give away too much. Less is more, but I need enough for two pages. CRAP.

Tutti, ho un male di testa. I'm going to take some aspirin, curl up under a blanket with that special no one (sigh), and watch the tele. Buona sera!

Oh, almost forgot. I got a comment from Benjamin Nicholas!!! Happy dance, happy dance! Just so I can cherish the comment even more, here it is:

Nice blog...

Always nice to see what others are enjoying about what you write :)

Thanks much for keeping an eye on 15 Minutes!


Benjamin Nicholas

Grad School Madness

Tutti, sorry it has been so long since I wrote anything. You are all probably what adventures I have been having. Guess what! NIENTE!!! I've been focusing on my GRE, getting grad school applications filled out, working on a writing sample, a statement of intent, and trying to remember why the hell I put my last resume. Not to mention maxing out by credit card trying to get all the fees paid for everything.

Did you know that some schools offer a discount if you get your application in before December 1? Notre Dame is $35 before December 1 and $50 after that date. SO, when you all get the itch for grad school, it pays to start as early as you can. Who knows what discounts you'll find.

You'll probably be interested to know that I spent all day Saturday, all night Monday, and will be spending all day today working on grad school materials. Not to mention that I need to start prepping for the GRE. I'm scheduled to take it on December 13, so that gives me "some" time. Grrr. This had SO better be worth it.

BTW- Does anyone have any feedback, good or bad, on the University of Toronto? I'm seriously considering applying there, but I don't want to screw myself over. I'll let someone else do that! ;P

Well, kittens, this stuff ain't gettin' done on it's own. Wish it would, since I still have a lot of reading to do. Not to mention that I would like to be done with the majority of this by Saturday so I can go watch the Buckeyes (win/lose) from the Union Station with my friends. I warned them that everytime I watch the Buckeyes play from there they lose, but they just shrugged it off. So, I'm warning you all, it's not my fault! You can blame Ron for this disaster!

Ciao, tutti!

Thursday's Dirty Details IV

Scene IV: The Trek HomeScene IV: The Trek Home

Now, I know that scenes I, II, and III can stand on their own, but I also know that scene IV cannot. After all, you'll all want to know why I was stranded in downtown Columbus at 1 in the am. SO, to keep you sane, I ask that you please read scene I, scene II, and scene III before proceeding with this story.

SO, there I was, standing outside of Garrett's Saloon, somewhere in or near German Village. The people who had brought me there were MIA. What is a little gay boy (OK, maybe not so little at 6 foot 200 lbs) to do?

Call a cab? Not in Columbus. Costs way too much.

Catch the bus? Um, not at that time of night.

Hmmm, guess it's time to walk. And walk. And walk. It took over an hour to get back where I belong, and I am NOT a slow walker. So there I was, cruising my way through the city streets, talking to myself, laughing hysterically, and generally freaking out anybody who crossed my path. A couple of cops actually did a slow cruise by me and checked me out. Of course, I did manage the psychosis I was feeling from too much alcohol. Actually, less than psychosis. My friend Jay said the best way to stay safe downtown, at night, is act crazy.

So, crazy I acted.

Finally, at about 1:15 am or so, I made it back to the Union Station. I walk in to get another drink, since I thought I needed it, and Kyle is like, "You're back!" So I explained where I ended up and he said, "That's near where I live." (Hmmmm, nice to know.) So I get another Long Island and a glass of water.

Then Howie shows up and he's like, "You're back!" Yeah, yeah, I'm back. So I explain to him what happened and that I had just finished walking back. "That's a long walk!" DUH, tell me about it! I sit there until about two or so, drinking my water and barely sipping my Long Island.

As I'm sitting there, I someone start running their hands thru my hair. Hmmmm. "This had better be a serious come on," I say. Then they grab my hair, pull back hard, and start kissing me. I think I was in shock because I actually started kissing this WOMAN back!!!! GAG!!!!!! It was wet, sloppy, and drunk, so totally not what I wanted at that point. To be honest, the urge to be sick is still there, even after 6 days. I'm not kidding, but making out with a guy is SOOO much more what I wanted at that point. (Did I ever mention that I turn slutty when I get drunk?)

After biting my lip she finally stopped and left the bar. I took a hefty swig of Long Island and scrubbed my lips with a napkin. After waiting a few minutes, and making sure she wasn't waiting for me outside, I left as well.

As I start my trek to the BFE of the Short North where I was going to crash for the night, I run into Howie. He was power walking toward me, carrying a bag in each hand. "Lunch or dinner?" I ask.

"Both," he said. "I haven't eaten a thing all day."

"That's not good."

"Heading home?"

"Close to home."

"Be careful."

"After what already happened, no worries there."

He laughed and I kept going. Eventually I made it to my bed for the night, sent an email to my friend Jay (who seems to enjoy my antics), and then I crashed. Hard.

Kittens, that was my night. On Monday I had another night worth mentioning, but... I'm afraid that one is a little too emotional at the moment. In fatto, penso che voglio che sera per me solo. (very bad Italian, but it has been awhile)

Well, tomorrow is Thursday again and it's time for more fun in the moon!

Thursday's Dirty Details III

Scene III: All About Garrett's

As most of you know, this serial story happened last Thursday. To understand how I got to this situation, you might want to read Scene I and Scene II.

OK, so Garrett's is a country-western gay bar. I've never been there as country-western is so NOT my scene. However, since I was basically the 10th wheel in a crowd of people I didna know, I couldn't exactly say I wanna go somewhere else. We get there, I walk in and pay my cover ($2 that night) see a stripper on stage, and hear the delightful voice of Miss Nina West!

A little digression. Miss Nina is a drag queen that does shows occasionally at Axis, the Union Station, and other places in the Short North. While I'm not normally into drag queens, she, at least, was someone I recognized.

Excitedly, I said to the Irish chick I was with, "I know that voice!" and began to look around for anyone in drag. I looked, and looked, and looked, all to no avail. There was no Miss Nina anywhere! Since nature was calling, and 4 Long Islands were desperately pushing past my bladder, I headed for the gents, did my business and then returned to the crowd. I looked around, found the crew I was with, and took a seat at the table they had commandeered.

As I looked around from that vantage point, I heard Miss Nina's voice again and, looking around, saw this guy walking around with a cordless mike. Just then, since my brain was somewhat pickled, I realized that a country-western bar wouldn't have a lot do to with drag queens. Let me tell ya, seeing Miss Nina outta character was too much of a shock.

The next thing I know the birthday boy is making his way on stage, followed by this tall, handsome, red-haired lad, who was taking off his belt. It was time for the birthday spakin'! Let's just say that everytime the b-day boy squirmed, complained, or even moved the wrong direction, Miss Nina (sans drag) made the stud start over. HEHEHE, too much fun! Glad I wasn't there for my b-day.

Eventually Miss Nina took pity on the b-day boy and had the bar bring up a sloppy jello shot (cherry, by the look of it). Studly took off his shirt and the b-day boy upended the shot onto studly's belly. Then SLURP! It took about a minute or so (the slurping, not the spilling) then the music started up and another stripper came on stage.

I turned to watch the stripper (he was quite good) and when I turned back the crew I was with were not in sight. Granted, I didn't make a circuit of the bar, but it wasn't that big. I could see every(one/thing) from from where I was sitting. Maybe they all had their backs to me or something. I'm not that good with backsides (clothed ones, anyway). So I got up and went out, thinking they had gone out for a fag (the British fags, not the American ones in the bar) or three. All to no avail. They weren't outside either.

Now, kittens, it's time to stop. Here ends Scene III. Domani, I will bring you Scene IV: The Trek Home.

Thursday's Dirty Details II

Scene 2: The SUV from hell

Just a warning for those who are just starting. If you haven't read Part I of this story, better do it now. Chances are this will stand on its own, but you'll probably want to know how I got into this situation.

Anyway, here I am, crawling into this big ol' tank of a vehicle with a str8 chick. Never in my wildest dreams did I ever imagine that I would get picked up in a gay bar by a str8 chick. Now, I know the Union Station plays hosts to all types, but it is primarily a gay bar.

But I digress. I crawl in, put on my seatbelt, and begin sipping my now wildly illegal Long Island. She crawls in, puts on a seatbelt, and lights up a fag. Sorry, the British version of the fag, not the American fag sitting next to her. She starts the vehicle and immediately starts badmouthing all the traffic around us. And we haven't even started moving yet. This shoulda been a red light in my mind, but that it wasn't.

So, after a lot of bad mouthing and manuevering, we make it to high street. Since I have no clue where we are going, I just make chit chat and don't comment on where we are going. We turn south, heading toward downtown, whipping thru traffic at something like 90 mph (well, it certainly felt that way!), when all of a sudden she says, "We're going the wrong way!"

HUH? She whips into the Convention Center drop off area and the next thing I know we're winging up High Street faster than before (so, something like 120 mph). Then this car pulls out in front of us and, instead of slowing down, she hits the horn, crosses the lovely double yellow line into oncoming traffic, passes, pulls back to the lane we belong in, and then proceeds to run a red light because she is now going something like 200 mph. AAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!

Eventually we returned to the sedate speed of 120. In the meantime I'm checking my pants because I was sure I had pissed myself. But, alas, the pants were dry.

Finally, we make it to the house where we're supposed to meet up with the birthday boy and the others. After a half hour or so, and several fags later, I find myself back in the SUV, with the str8 Irish chick, driving through downtown. Fortunately, we are going at a respectable speed of 35 since we are behind the car that holds the b-day boy.

After 15 minutes (mainly because we stopped at a bank for money), we make it to, not a dance club, but a country-western gay bar.

OK, time to stop again. Stay tuned for Scene 3: All About Garrett's.

Thursday's Dirty Details

Ha! You all thought I forgot, didn't ya?!? Well, I didn't. I spent most of Friday nursing the hangover and trying to remember what I did. Anyway, here goes:

Scene 1: It starts

It all started simple enough. It was a simple, normal evening for me at the Union with my barstuds, er, bartenders, Howie and Kyle. Kyle's sporting a new look these days. He's gotten his hair in a buzz cut and is growing a beard thingy. Not sure what it's called. It's following his jaw line and only there. Whatever it is, the combo certainly makes him look more mature, masculine, and yummy! BTW- I asked him, with his bod, if he did any stripping, and he said, "No." DMAN!

Anyway, to get back on track. I was on and off talking to this guy named Jeff (very nice, very professional looking) when this chick kept butting in. Well, we were at the launch pad and we were between her and the bartender, so I was allowing her that. Anyway, everytime she came up it was chat, chat chat. So I was talking to her, Jeff was talking to her, Kyle was just taking her order and ignoring her (a plus for him).

I don't remember the gist of the conversations, but I was able to make out 3 things: 1) She's Irish (her parents came from Cork County), 2) She's straight (ditched her hubby and the kids for the night), and 3) She was there with a bunch of workmates celebrating this twinks birthday (very cute, if too young per me).

To try to shorten the story, she said they were going dancing and wanted to know if I would go with. By then I was 3 Long Islands into the wind (my usual stopping point) and was working on number 4 when this happened. I told her I wanted to finish the drink first, but she said, "Lemme see it." So I handed her the glass, closed my tab, and turned around to see her walking out the door. I followed her about to discover that she still had the drink with her. I took it back, hid it under my jacket, and followed her to her SUV.

Now, we all know I had been drinking, and I knew she had been drinking, but I didna know how much. I was soon to find out, however.

Y'know, I think I'll stop here for now. Make this into a serial story that'll keep you yelling for more. So, stay tuned for part II, coming soon from a laptop near you!

What a night!

OK, I'm a little too far gone to remember exactly what happened. Let's just say I left with a str8 chick, ended up at a place called Garret's, and had to walk over 1 hour just to get back where I belonged! Then I actually made out with some sloppy, drunk str8 lady. (yuck!)

Let's just say that, in the morning, when I post the gory details, you'll be like: "WTF were you thinking!!!"

In the meantime, buona notte!