The other one.

Her name's Julie Michelle, too. And she got the domain name before me, dammit.

***

Since I never seem to have enough online presence lately, I looked into registering my name as an idea for my online store, which has been way too long in the making. A smart person would have done this BEFORE the holidays.

I think anyone who's been blogging long enough, and the reasons for doing so morph into other avenues over time, probably realize late into the game that perhaps their first chosen blogging name doesn't hold up in the long run. Certainly my blogging friends Beth Spotswood and Troy Holden have found this out. You grow out of your blogger name because eventually it's your real world name that most people need to relate to, not your alter ego/superhero name.

I feel like I'm confusing the hell out of myself, let alone other people who might decide to follow me. First it was tangobaby. Then TangobabyinSF on twitter. i live here:SF for the eponymous site. femmefotographie for my "real" website. And now Julie Michelle on CALIBER.

So when it came time to see if another Julie Michelle had beaten me to the punch, I was a bit bummed. It's not really that big of a deal, I could be JulieMichellePhotography.com or something similar.

I showed The Boy this other Julie Michelle and now he seems to feel like he's gotten the wrong girl.

My mental [bus] transfer

Riding on the 6 Parnassus last week, near Masonic and Haight.

I thought this girl was so beautiful...

But mostly, I liked her dog.

***

I'm sure you must all think I've gone on holiday.
Surely, I've been off on a mental ride of sorts. But I should be getting off that bus soon. With more stuff worth reading and/or looking at. Or at least I'll try.

But in the meantime, I had some Irish coffees (and very good, inspiring conversation) with Plug1 at the Gold Dust Lounge (why do they call it a dive bar? I don't think the Gold Dust is a dive bar... and besides, Herb Caen liked it), and then had some late night Pasquale's pizza with The Boy.

Let me tell you: IRISH COFFEE and PIZZA do not a dinner make.
Smart people probably already know these sorts of things.

blech.

These Days...

I've been out walking I don't do too much talking These days, these days. These days I seem to think a lot About the things that I forgot to do And all the times I had the chance to.

***

Hope you are well.
It seems like forever and a day since I actually wrote something, and I keep meaning to.
But.

Oh well.

Soon.

***Whatever you're up to, I hope it's as fun as twirling around in front of your own private marching band.

now I have to think of something to say

Being blonde was my hair's worst nightmare, I think.
I'm so glad that's all over.

***

I know this is cheating but why waste a good meme? I've become pretty much an antisocial, anti-meme/tagging person but when Pomegranacat on Flickr tagged me, I thought it might be a fun exercise in amongst my Flickr circle since they probably don't read my blog anyway.

You guys already know all about me, don't you? But since I'm apparently not writing anything lately, if you're really hard up for some tangobaby nonsense, you can read stuff you already know about me on my Flickr page.

***

ps.: I have to go to a baseball game today.

Is baseball like mushrooms, where you really don't like them for years and then all of a sudden, you find them to be delicious? I am waiting for my baseball tastebuds to mature. But the Pirates are in town today, which means The Boy must go, which means I'm the sidekick. I go for the bratwurst but I'm so paranoid about getting hit in the head by a foul ball or a splintered bat. Is that just me?

At least my aura is glowing...

In a serious attempt to avoid throwing up-- People, please. I'm asking you a huge favor... if you ever hear me say that I'm going to have popcorn again for dinner, STOP me. I don't know how you'll do that, but I know in my heart that you want the best for me and you will try to keep me from making bad food choices... like having popcorn for dinner, which leads to the inevitable tummyache and we are OUT of Pepto-Bismol and yes, it's my own damn fault. So just promise, okay?--

Anyway, to keep my mind distracted, I decided to re-read an email I got from my sister today, regarding my niece, Little Curly Girl (you all remember her...):

"Wish us luck--we're potty training. She got married this morning in my black spiky heeled boots and black cocktail dress. She peed in the dress and into the boots... But she was a beautiful bride. Pictures to follow..."

I think the gist of the email is clear but what you don't know is that my sister and LCG had their honeymoon in Fiji, before the peeing incident. I think that is so romantic. I wonder what the pictures will be like.

(I guess the potty training train derailed a few months back when Princess Chubness was born-- who has been renamed The Forgotten Child because being the second, totally chill and happy baby that she is, no one is taking any photos of her-- anyway, having that kind of distraction kept LCG's Potty Training Train from leaving the station. So my sister thought to tell LCG that brides know how to use the toilet [that's a ruse, certainly] but unfortunately the idea of being a bride and then going on a romantic honeymoon with her mother to Fiji was not enough.)

See, just in writing this and laughing, I almost am forgetting about my poor tummy and what I've done tonight. Perhaps I've cured you of some small ill, too.

***

If I have not cured you (and you needed curing), I want you to know that there is a product that will improve the appearance of your aura. I bought some body oil today, by the brand Aura Glow. (I think body oil is way better than a moisturizer after a shower--okay, maybe that's a little too personal but I am always trying to provide you with helpful and inexpensive beauty advice).

Anyway, I didn't think much of the brand name, until I read on the label that the formula was recommended by none other than Edgar Cayce, and it "has actually been shown to brighten the physical aura when it is used."

To quote the inimitable Dave Barry: I am not making this up.

So now my aura is lavender scented and obviously brighter, even though I can't tell (does this mean I can read in the dark without my booklight?). I do have to say that I sincerely wish there was a Carl Sagan body oil because I'd be all over that sh*t.

Okay, I think between making fun of my new body product AND picturing my niece peeing in my sister's black cocktail dress and high heeled boots, dressed as a tiny Goth bride, is totally better than downing a couple spoons of Pepto-Bismol.

And on that note, my aura and I bid you a fond adieu.

***

UPDATE 5:02am: There is really no good reason for me to be awake this early, but I wanted to add that right now up at the top of my gmail inbox is an automated link (you know how Google thinks it knows what you want to read about?), and it's a recipe for:

FRENCH FRY SPAM CASSEROLE

(Again, I am not making this up.)

The secret ingredient (no kidding) is Corn Flakes.

I guess I could have had that for dinner instead of the popcorn..

Stay out of trouble, folks

Took this in Chinatown, obviously somewhere you're bound to get busted for having fun.

***

I've got some photos to take today. You all keep your noses clean until I get back, okay?
Happy Free Friday!

xoxo

The Thing with the Hole

The Thing With a Hole on a Stick, courtesy of Engrish.com

***

I don't know how it is with you today, but I'm having one of those days where I'm drawing a blank at every other word. You know, that thing.

I can't even pretend to write anything interesting, nor do I have any photos to share with you, so I'm going to list some past favorite posts here, for laughs or until my cerebral cortex kicks in again. Yes, I'm stalling. But I don't want to leave a big hole in my blog. Even if the hole is covered in chocolate.

***

I'm so dingbatty right now that these posts aren't even in any order, but I like them all scattered about. So maybe you will too. Don't worry, this isn't homework. It's just something to do until I recover.

xoxo

Take a Walk in My Backyard

My Dad Is SO Not Joe the Plumber

Things I Would Tell My Grandmother

You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Gone

Little Curly Shutterbug

My Forty Daughters

Growing Up in Little Oblivion

The Parabola of a Writer or, Coming to This All Backwards

The Beauty of Impermanance

Hope for the Future

Happy Tired, Tired Happy

"Happiness often sneaks in through a door you didn't know you left open." ~ John Barrymore

The MOO cards came for my new blog. Everything seems better when you've got a MOO card to share.

***

But I've got to cool my heels.

What happens when you "put it out there," tell people what you want to do (and it appears to be going in the right direction) is exhilarating. I'm so excited and happy right now that it's made me so pooped I can't even write it all down. It's like when you played all day and didn't take your nap and you're happy tired.

***

My first photo for my i live here: SF project has gone somewhat viral on flickr. I've never had 200+ views of any photo... and already have several photoshoots lined up. Next Free Friday is already booked.

And the Shy Kitten poster went to the kindergarten class.

I got a bunch of notes and drawings from the kids who loved that photo so much in the Chinatown book. Just think what they'll do when MJ puts the poster on the wall.

And I met old friends and new. Friends are just popping out all over!

And some Boy left me a little treat tonight.

I wish this post was more coherent. This is all I can do right now. Love to you.

xoxo

My Assistant Quit

Dear Tangobaby,

In light of your recent ranting post, it's obvious that you have plenty of time for silly things and are not concentrating on more pressing issues like sending out all of those prints to the nice people who wanted one, or the Christmas presents that you said are now for Valentine's day.

I am running off to Buenos Aires with Sergio.

See ya!

Sincerely,

Your assistant, Tangobaby jr.

***

She left me a pile of photos with your names and addresses written on hot pink Post-Its, and a big stack of photo mailers. Guess I know what I'll be doing this Free Friday.

And sending out those Christmas/Valentine's Day packages too.

Good help is SO hard to find.

Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom: San Francisco Episode

A definition of a professional photographer: A "pro" NEVER shows anybody the mistakes. ~ Anonymous

***

Let's just say that not every day is Photographic Nirvana in Tangobabyland.

Did you know that rodents as well as humans can benefit from a tooth whitening program such as Brite Smile? I think we need to sponsor this poor dear and get him some Crest WhiteStrips. (Click photo to enlarge and you'll definitely see he isn't flossing regularly either.)

And I was mooned by a blue jay.

***

But I did get to molest a magnolia and looky at what's inside:

Purty.

I didn't want you to think I was just screwing around on the first Official Day of the Staycation, and throwing butter on the floor all willy-nilly. I did try to take some photos today, but let's just say that you're not going to see most of them.

I really should go to sleep now. After today's adventure, who knows what tomorrow will bring?! I'm gonna need a lot of batteries.

nitey-nite, friends.

xoxo

Your Call Is Very Important to Us

Dear #1 Tangobaby Reader,

Due to the higher than normal volume of comments recently (to which all of us here at Tangobaby World Media, Inc. are very, very appreciative), our normal standard of replying to each and every comment is becoming a wee bit difficult.

We apologize for the disruption in service and would like you to take a moment to give us your opinion on the matter. All of us here at Tangobaby World Media, Inc. thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

All of us

ps.: Yes, this is also an excuse to use polldaddy.com's free widgets, since I obviously can't go around making election campaign buttons anymore. *sigh* I miss being on the campaign trail.

Seriously, you guys are going to get me fired.

First of all, I want to say helllloooooooo to all of you new visitors to tangobaby via Blogs of Note.

I love you all. I'm totally blown away that you're here.

Secondly, I am guessing that this shout-out from Blogger is randomly generated (although I am super grateful all the same) because I don't know what I've done of late to be noteworthy. A year and a half ago, I didn't even know what a blog was. But don't get me wrong, this is cool! Thank you!

Thirdly, I hope you'll come back to visit me again and not just this one time and I'll try to visit you all and not be some sort of blog diva who is stuck up and snobbish.

But fourthly, I am probably going to get fired because of this. I seriously have not done any work today and have been totally distracted and just sent a co-worker out to buy me a BLT just so I could write this post.

***

I have some questions about my being discovered (which is funny since I just wrote something about Lana Turner a few days ago--is this the blog equivalent of being a Sweater Girl? Probably not. I don't think I get to quit my day job). Up until this morning, I was just minding my own little bloggy business and cajoling my friends into looking at my photography on flickr and JPG.

Is there some sort of blog guru who selects us? To whom do I say thank you?

Can I quit my day job now? Does this mean I am an expert at something?

Am I going to have to start moderating comments because now I'm going to get all of these spam comments about erectile dysfunction? I would really hate to do that.

***

Just so you know a few things:

I love my little blog. But it's very very random, even to me. If you can make sense out of the myriad brain stuff here, then I applaud you. I just read over my whole list of tags and I'm covering a lot of bases in a very shallow manner. Although if you love old films (especially noir and silents), dance (especially Argentine tango), San Francisco, photography, eating yummy food until you have to unbutton your pants, quoting Monty Python, Dorothy Parker and Carl Sagan, keeping your passport in your wallet just in case and then once in a while having a philosophical moment, then I think we'll get along just fine.

And swearing. Sometimes I swear.

***

I am having a hard time keeping up with the comments (and was even before this explosion of attention) so please be patient with me (I'm older than you think) and just know that I am thrilled you're here even if you think you hear the crickets chirping on my end. I'll try to write back. I just have to not get fired from my day job until I get a call from my new agent.

Thanks for making my day. Now I don't hate my outfit as much.

xoxo

ps.: If you are a new reader here, then I should tell you that I never have a movie reference on the blog just willy-nilly. There are too many good movies that people don't know about and I'm just doing my share to be bossy and make sure that you see them.

Above is a photo for the noir Fallen Angel, which is a great flick and Linda Darnell is H-O-T. Hot hot hot and so is Dana Andrews. So rent it.

Cruel and Exceptionally Unusual Punishment

Before I get started, I have to ask you two questions:

1. Can you give someone up for adoption who is not related to you?

2. How do you try to forget a horrible song that's on infernal eternal loop in your head? What if there are two songs, equally heinous, alternating tracks and you can't stop them? (And a round of cocktails is not an option because it's 8:36am and I just got to work.)

***

Note: If you like Janis Ian or the musical Annie, you shouldn't read any further.

I know a lot of you really enjoy stories about The Boy. I am thinking of sending him to live with some of you on an alternating basis, kind of like some worldwide joint custody agreement.

We both have random bouts of insomnia, but the nice part is that we have it at different times of the night so we don't conflict and have to share the DVD player. But this morning The Boy had an early morning bout and was watching the first episode of SNL when I rolled out of bed.

He asks, "Hey, have you ever heard of Janis Ian?"

Of course I have. Janis Ian made me totally depressed about the idea of being seventeen many years before I was even a teenager. The only two songs I can recall my parents playing on the hi-fi set in the family room were "At Seventeen" and "Hey Nineteen" by Steely Dan (I just realized that's some sort of very weird coincidence... dumb songs about teenage girls... hmmm.)

I learned the truth at seventeen That love was meant for beauty queens And high school girls with clear skinned smiles Who married young and then retired

and

The Cuervo Gold The fine Columbian Make tonight a wonderful thing

There you have it. My musical childhood.

***

So The Boy starts singing "At Seventeen." Honestly, it's not just me. That has to be one of the worst songs ever written, right? Gads. And because I'm overly sensitized to it, I immediately get hooked on it in my mind. There's a deep groove in my brain where this song is lodged. I can even sing all of the lyrics back to him instantly and he's got this look of semi-admiration.

To punish him for sticking that song in my head before my eyes were properly open, I started singing "Tomorrow," from Annie, which is probably something that they used at Guantanamo Bay as a form of behaviour modification. And to my dismay, he's never seen Annie and doesn't know the song. He is immune to Annie. Cripes.

So now I am stuck on "At Seventeen" and "Tomorrow" playing on dual tracks. Mentally, it's the equivalent of stubbing your toe really hard on a big piece of furniture and then you got so mad you kicked the furniture with your other foot.

Please help me. I don't know what else to sing. And who wants dibs on The Boy's first visit?

UPDATE 10:02am: dutchbaby is mean. Funny, but mean. She just emailed me the lyrics to "It's a Small World." How can friends do that to each other? *Edvard Munch face screaming inside*

Watch This Space

Honestly, guys, having a cold really drains all of the smarts right out of you. I have no idea what to write a post about.

Plus, I sneezed really hard and loud (not on purpose) and I think I gave myself a sneezing concussion today. Can you do that? I think you can. Ow.

So here are some funny photos to look at in the meantime.
They bring back memories of my days as a makeup artist doing weddings, but I don't remember ever having to shave someone's pits.

See ya after my second Coldbuster Jamba Juice kicks in.

I Think My Food Combiner Is Broken

Warning: This is one of those silly posts. I am going to blame it on my head cold.

***

I think my food combining instincts are going completely wonky. I think because I had been left alone as a Bachelorette for two solid months that I became a weird culinary hybrid of frat boy, ascetic/hermit and kosher foodie with a vitamin B deficiency.

I am not going to say how many nights I had popcorn for dinner while The Boy was away. I am not going to say because 1) it's embarrassing to think about how many times I ate popcorn for dinner and sometimes breakfast, and 2) I don't remember. It was that many. And those nights where the side dish was Cherry Garcia ice cream. Nope, don't remember those either.

***

I am going to blame my little friend Chipmonkey for this popcorn fetish. She came over with her nutritional yeast (which I had never even heard of before October 11 as I am not in any way a vegan or a health food person, you know that) and her popcorn and started my whole craving/obsession at my Movie Maven's Movie Marathon for America thingy. And now I have an enormo can (12 oz.!) of nutritional yeast in my kitchen. And the only thing it tastes good on is popcorn. I have been eating loads of both ever since.

Today, I had stale popcorn and a side of pickled herring in sour cream for breakfast. The Boy always looks at me like I am Cat Woman when I eat these fishy things (and will not be kissed and runs away from me) and in the midst of eating this "breakfast," I really do have to stop and wonder what is wrong with me. This meal can't be as bad as Mia Farrow eating the raw liver in Rosemary's Baby, but it's still not quite right.

Why do I never want to eat normal foods for breakfast? Why is the only decent sounding meal to me this morning something that could be in a Monty Python skit? Yes, I eat the herring with these guys reciting in my head ("... and then you must cut down the mightiest tree in the forest with...... A HERRING!"). Do you do this? Eat foods that immediately make you recite Monty Python scenes? ("And Saint Attila raised the hand grenade up on high, saying,’O Lord, bless this thy hand grenade that with it thou mayest blow thine enemies to tiny bits, in thy mercy.’ And the Lord did grin, and the people did feast upon the lambs and sloths and carp and anchovies and orangutans and breakfast cereals and fruit bats and...")

I'm wondering what made me combine these two foods, like if there was a reasonable physiological cause then that would explain it. They're both white foods? Salty foods? Have no real nutritional value foods? Or I've learned my food combining from years of Monty Python watching?

My tangobaby food pyramid is very bizarre. It consists primarily of har gow, Funyuns, Junior Mints, Ovaltine and popcorn. And sushi and bratwust. Now I am even grossing myself out.

***

I recently discovered, through a cute little Minnesotan transplant at my work, about such things called hotdish. I partially thought that hot dishes only existed in Lake Wobegon, but no--hotdish even has its own wikipedia entry. But now I find that there is even such a casserole creation that is topped with Tater Tots. And another one made with herring!

Perhaps I am really a Midwesterner at heart? Can someone please help me with my food identity?

***

The only other thing I am going to leave you with now is a clip from Stephen Colbert's A Colbert Christmas because it is a very funny song about nutmeg.

The Colbert ReportMon - Thurs 11:30pm / 10:30c

A Colbert Christmas: John Legend

Colbert at Christmas
Colbert Christmas DVD

Green Screen
Bill O'Reilly Interview

If you don't come back to this blog for a while, I understand. I don't know what comes over me sometimes. But if you do eat weird things that make other people look at you askance, I really hope you'll fess up so we can start some sort of self-help group together.

Birthday Treats Being Logged and Recognized Appropriately

The enormity of birthday wishes, gifts, cake, voicemails, emails and such were overwhelmingly lovely and appreciated to the highest degree, and now I am appointing a transition team to help me handle the incredible amounts of love, well wishes and birthday memories.

Right now we are cataloguing and putting all of these lovely sentiments in their proper places for easy recall and enjoyment. It is a daunting task. But I will be back with you soon.

***

In the meantime, please bear with me while I get situated with being a year older but definitely more loved. I am going to share some virtual cake with you, sent from The Boy, who is braving the elements in Pittsburgh. (Yes, he is still not home yet! Yes, he has been such a good son and helping his parents, yadda yadda yadda. I don't know what to do at this point. I was thinking of hiring a band of gypsies or pirates to kidnap him and bring him back to San Francisco.)


He also sent me a photo of himself, being very strong and cute. He still does this to impress me (it works). Boys will be boys.

Does anyone know of a band of gypsies in the Pittsburgh area that I can hire to bring The Boy home? They have to be authentic gypsies with wagons and campfires. Or a circus train would work. He would be totally lured away by a circus train, especially if giraffes were involved.

ps.: Who's my film buff here? Who knows where that top photo came from besides me?

Testing 1, 2, 3...

Hooray! There's nothing better than getting to sleep in an extra hour in the morning because of Daylight Savings Time AND finding out that the Internet Fairy has come in the middle of the night and restored your access!

This almost makes me believe in Santa Claus, too. Did you miss me? I missed you.

***

This is actually a test post because I might be out of practice. I might get winded so I'm starting blogging again in small doses.

The photo above is a selection of movies that were in the $10 Halloween bin at Virgin Records. I picked up a couple of DVDs for late Halloween night (Tim Burton's Sleepy Hollow as recommended by willow, and the collector's edition of The Shining.)

Above are more selections that I didn't purchase. Can you find the scariest movie in those pictured?

*
*
*
*
*
If you said the Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Widescreen Edition, you WIN!

Congratulations and see you soon with a real post!

xoxo

Slow News Day

Blog?

OH! That blog! My blog!

***

It's a slow news day at Tangobaby World Media Corporate, Inc. I think my brain went on hiatus. Or maybe I suspended my brain so that I could run my presidential campaign for a while (i.e., that means thinking of what beauty products to get for basket, or making new campaign buttons).

And not having internet access at home obviously is cramping my style in a big way.

***

I only have one little story to share for now.

Yesterday we got a enormo-basket of Halloween candy from a sales rep. It's got every type of candy in a Halloween theme (I am devouring the yellow, orange and black Good 'n Plenty's at a frightening clip).

One of the cute boys (our blessed intern) came over to my desk and gave me a pair of wax lips from the basket. "Here," he says, "these are for you. There were only two pairs and I wanted to make sure you got some."

I thanked him, of course. And then I asked him, "How did you know about my wax lips fetish? Did I tell you about my crazy love of wax lips? I don't remember us talking about that."

And he said, "I just assumed that you liked them."

He's a smart boy. The youth of America.

I think it's nice when people have you all figured out.

***

UPDATE: I only humiliate myself when it's fun and so that you know I love you.

Happy Halloween, kids!

How to Run a Real Fashion-y Campaign

When I woke up this morning, I was so jazzed about the idea of starting my fact-finding commission so that I could consider being on a ticket for the 2012 elections.

I hate picking out what to wear in the morning because some of my clothes are looking pretty tired and it takes a lot of effort to pull together a cute outfit with last year's H&M sweaters.

So imagine my little fashion bubble being burst when I read this statement from the McCain campaign:

"With all of the important issues facing the country right now, it's remarkable that we're spending time talking about pantsuits and blouses," said spokesperson Tracey Schmitt. "It was always the intent that the clothing go to a charitable purpose after the campaign."

That statement totally bummed me out. Sarah doesn't get to keep the clothes! Man, if I were her, I'd drop out of the race right this instant. Ladies, you know how it is--when you finally get some awesome clothes that fit you perfectly and make you look like someone you're not, only better...and then--you have to give them back?! That is a fashionista's worst nightmare!

But who wants used Vice Presidential candidate clothes? What, are they going to make her sell the clothes on eBay, like that plane? (Oh, I forgot. That didn't really happen.) Or maybe she can donate the clothes to "real" Americans like Joe the Plumber's wife (if he has one, I'm being hypothetical here) and that poor old lady (Gayle Quinnell) who told McCain that Obama was a Muslim terrorist. You know, like dividends to people who helped with the campaign.

***

BUT, then I thought: Hey, in some totally warped space-time continuum where Palin really does make it to the second most powerful job in the country, she'll be in charge of Congress! I bet she could use that power to work with Congress to change the laws regarding how campaigns spend their funds! With enough winking, she could get those dowdy senators to let her keep the clothes.

And then that would pave the way for me to run my exploratory commission. Because I'm only interested in running if I get to keep the clothes.

***

Just so you know, if and when I decide to run for office in 2012, I will buy my starter campaign wardrobe from the Back Room at Loehmann's because, let's face it, "real" Americans wouldn't know a last season's Valentino suit from this season's, and I don't want to abuse their trust. I would rather spend their money with much foresight and discretion than blow it all in a single whopping orgasmic spree.

Once I get into office though, then I'll be shopping full retail--no sales!--after I wrangle Congress to give me a raise.

ps. Just so you know, I would like to express my flexibility in thinking by going more with Donna Karan than St. John and Valentino for my campaign wardrobe. I want my candidacy not to require me to have to wear Spanx all the time.

Just Mellow Here

"Being a photographer is making people look at what I want them to look at." ~ Ruth Orkin

***

I'm working on my book about the Mission (damn, gotta love that blurb!), listening to my Aimee Mann CD again (and hoping some of you will make me a mix CD of your favorite smart girls). Smelling the marijuana that comes through the vent next to my desk, from the guy upstairs. (He must have a hydroponic farm up there--this is a nightly occurrence.)

And I'm sitting here, kinda laughing, because if you never looked at any other photos of San Francisco except for mine, you'd think that the city was completely decrepit and falling to pieces.

I guess maybe it is (or at least the parts of the city I happen to take photos in).

***

"All photography is propaganda." - Martin Parr

This urban decay sure fascinates me. Lucky this book is not a scratch-n-sniff though. Some of these places look cool on paper, but in real life, the smells could knock you over. The "nicer" parts of town don't have the urine smells, but they also don't make for very interesting photos, either.

***

The other day, Amber and I were just beside ourselves discovering battered doors, peeling paint layers and general disintegration. I told her about a favorite ancient keyhole I found, backlit perfectly to show the myriad of spiderwebs inside, and she shared her love of rust and how she befriended all of the graffiti artists in Salt Lake City.

Who knew that taking a bunch of photos would lead to such bizarre admiration?

***

Also, I found a really fantastic site for photography quotes, which might be inspiring to some of you, my fellow photography mavens.
That's all. Nitey nite.

***

OH! I remember what I wanted to tell you. Those of you who preordered your Chinatown book with me, the shipment came in! So now I'm just working on your special thank you prints to send, and then I'll be popping your books in the mail.

I can't believe I forgot. It must be the second-hand pot smoke.