Scandinavian Elvis Homage + Space Choreography

This is further proof that I need backup dancers with me at all times.

On the Abbreviation of Communication

I've been thinking a lot about time lately. Or rather, speed. The speed at which time goes by. The speed that I assign to certain tasks and deny to others. Why do I spend so much time doing certain things and almost no time doing others? Why does it seem like I keep cutting the amount of time I allot to writing and listening to music to almost nothing? Why am I whittling that time away to almost nothing?

I've decided that it's all Twitter's fault.

I have a Twitter account, but I rarely use it, and when I do, it's mostly to inflict terrible jokes on the people unlucky enough to be following me.

Jeremy Clarkson, writer and gearhead host of the BBC's Top Gear program, wrote about music several years ago in his column. He was wondering why people no longer have the patience for songs that last over 3 or 4 minutes. Let me quote:

"Yes, a supermarket is convenient and a Big Mac hits the spot when you're in a hurry but why does music have to be this way? Why is three minutes acceptable and twenty minutes pretentious? Would "Stairway to Heaven" be improved if they cut out the bustle in its hedgerows? I think not.

Maybe it's an attention-span thing. Music is now the backdrop to our lives rather than an event in itself. We put on a CD while we're doing something else. I can't remember the last time I put on an album and listened to it in a chair with my eyes closed."

I can't remember the last time I did that, either. All I seem to have time for now is making mixes from singles I download from music blogs.

Same thing with writing - it's increasingly rare that I'll "have the time" to sit down and just spend an hour plugging away at something I need to get off my chest. It's a sort of instant gratification disease. I used to complain that I couldn't blog very often because it took time away from writing my book. The simple act of blogging about whatever it was that was on my mind satisfied the itch for me to write, which left my book in the lurch. Now I can scratch that itch by writing less than 140 characters in a Twitter update, or updating my Facebook status.

What the hell? Am I that easily distracted, or that easily satisfied? I tell myself that it's because I'm so busy with other things, like photography. And while that's true to a certain extent, in that I DO spend a lot of time doing photo-related things, it's just not an acceptable excuse. Why can't I carve out 30 minutes here and there to actually spend some time on things that aren't photography?

At the risk of sounding like an old codger shaking his fist at whippersnappers, I think the reason for this is the increasing abbreviation of our lives. Instead of picking up the phone to talk to someone, we send a text. Instead of blogging about what we're doing, we send pithy Twitter updates into the ether. And we listen to 4 minute songs because we just don't have time for The Dark Side of the Moon anymore.

In Which Our Hero Musters The Nerve To Blog Again

Greetings, Hardcore Hobo fans! I theorize that you are hardcore because you've been kind enough to keep me in your feed readers/bookmarks through all this long dry spell of No Hobo News. For which I thank you, from the bottom of my hobo-ey little heart.

Now, to business! I thought I'd regale you with a few mini-product reviews. That's a good way to re-break the ice, isn't it? I tell you about things I've purchased and you pretend to be interested? Ok, let me step in WAAAAAY close to you before I start, and...why yes! That IS shrimp on my breath. Well, technically it's BRINE shrimp. Well, technically, it's Sea Monkeys strained through the baleen-like bristles of my mustache. A hobo gets his meals where he can.

Anyway! First up is the Aeropress Coffee maker! BEHOLD!



That thing has CHANGED MY LIFE. Seriously. I used to look like this:



And now I look like this:



AMAZING. It's like a giant coffee syringe that allows you to make really tasty espresso in about 3 minutes (2:10 seconds of which is consumed by watching the microwave get your water to a balmy 175 degrees). You put this little paper filter deal (re-usable for about 2 weeks!) in the bottom of the syringe. You place the syringe over a sturdy coffee cup (it has a little ledge for this purpose). You load the syringe with two scoops of espresso-ground coffee. You slowly pour the hot water into the top of the cylinder. You stir for about 10 seconds. Then you put the plunger bit into the top of the cylinder and press. A few seconds later, the pressure of the air in the cylinder has forced the water through the grounds and the filter and into your cup. Due to the filter, there are no grounds or grit like you'd get with a french press. There's no bitterness like you'd get with a drip. It's freaking DELICIOUS.

I usually add a few tablespoons of hot chocolate powder and a bit of milk, and I've got a better cafe mocha than anything I could get at a coffee shop, for a fraction of the price. Oh, and the price of the Aeropress is almost the best part (the best part is obviously the taste of the coffee): only $25 from Amazon. With free shipping!

In addition to being the most caffeinated hobo on the block, I am also the hobo who knows what time it is, to a far greater accuracy than "scabie past refried bean stain". I found a Stuhrling Winchester Elite skeleton watch in the dumpster the other day. And by dumpster, I mean that I chewed it off the arm of a stockbroker (who resides three dumpsters over) and legged it like the devil was breathing down my neck and setting my back hair on fire. Here it is:



I've always loved skeleton watches because I've always loved seeing how things work. This watch is transparent on both the front and the back, and is an automatic to boot. So when I'm strolling around, the kinetic energy of my arm movement is being captured by a spinning little blade dealie on the back of the watch, which subsequently winds it AUTOMATICALLY. No batteries! Environmentally friendly! And stolen from the withered husk of a stockbroker! THERE IS NO DOWNSIDE TO THIS WATCH.

Resistance is Futile

Wow, two in one day! This is just a fill-in the blanks thing, though, so it probably doesn't count:

1. Put your iTunes/Ruckus/Napster/etc on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. YOU MUST WRITE THAT SONG NAME DOWN NO MATTER HOW SILLY IT SOUNDS!

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY” YOU SAY?
Blow You Away

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
American Idiot

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Always be my Girl

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
Racing Rock

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
Miracle

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
I Should Be So Lucky

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
All is Full of Love

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
People in the City

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
Whatever

WHAT IS 2+2?
Guns of Brixton

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?
Stay Out of Trouble

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Worried Blues

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
The Frayed Ends of Sanity

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
Far Out

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
Neon Nights

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
The Spiderbite Song

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
Colonial Anthem

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
Like it or Not

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
Summertime

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?
We're In This Together

WHAT’S THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN?
Clarke Gable

HOW WILL YOU DIE?
Lodi Dodi

WHAT IS THE ONE THING YOU REGRET?
Riders on the Storm

WHAT MAKES YOU LAUGH?
Subterranean Homesick Blues

WHAT MAKES YOU CRY?
Quiet Surf

WHAT SCARES YOU THE MOST?
Heart of the Monster

DOES ANYONE LIKE YOU?
Further Deeper

IF YOU COULD GO BACK IN TIME, WHAT WOULD YOU CHANGE?
Red Flags and Long Nights

WHAT HURTS RIGHT NOW?
All We Are

WHAT WILL YOU POST THIS AS?
Resistance is Futile

In Which Our Hero Waxes...Something. Not Nostalgic. And Not His Chest. Maybe Just...On and Off.

Egads! It's been a while, hobo fans! My apologies. Life has been happening at a pace somewhat short of breakneck, and I've been spending all of my mental energy on other things. But I find myself with a few moments to spare and an itching to tell stories, so here I am.

And OH the stories I could tell. Some of them are too recent and sensitive to discuss, like the Great Gummi Penis War of 2009, which had surprisingly traumatic repercussions, the nature of which I am not at liberty to share at the moment.

I CAN tell you about the impromptu Obama Day parade that crept up on me this afternoon. Seriously, it was a full-blown parade. There were drummers. There were hippies. There were signs espousing various opinions, mostly on the theme of Hope, but also covering marijuana legalization, the general and specific awfulness of Bush, TWO marriage proposals, and even the plight of squirrels. Yes, squirrels.

There were also stilt-walkers in bikinis (it was about 80 today in lovely downtown Santa Cruz), and I have to say that I was impressed by their ability to gyrate effectively while balancing four feet off the ground. I guess it's a short (ha) route from stripper heels to stilts, eh?

I spent a nice few minutes bonding with my fellow Starbucks junkies as we watched the home-made hippie parade and batted amusing and ironic commentary back and forth. It was just what I needed after a rough week.

And now I'm going to eat some tasty burritos and hang out with my partner in crime. Until next time, amigos!

A Missive From Deepest Siberia

Day 1

Drank something in a bottle I found on the ground behind the local "glass pipe" shop. Everything went fuzzy for a while, and I woke up on a bus next to a bearded man wearing yak skin. At least, that's what he told me it was. He looked a little stabby, so I didn't question it. I wonder where the bus is going?

Day 4

Yellowknife, Alaska. Great.

Day 9

There are some decent dumpsters here. I'm not really sure what to do with the seal parts, though. I'm assuming that's what they are, anyway.

Day 10

Pretty hungry. Those seal parts are looking pretty tasty.

Day 32

Don't eat the green seal parts. Not sure where I am now. Have been chased for the last several weeks by angry gnomes shouting at me to give them back their wooden legs. Found some toothpicks in my vest, but they weren't interested. Currently trying to keep gnomes away and avoid being eaten by bears. Bindlestick is filled with pine cones for some reason. Not really very helpful.

Day 35

Getting pretty hungry. Might try licking my bindlestick kerchief for sustenance.

Day 57

Crap. Siberia. Have discovered that gulag is not a kind of soup.

HoboTV

It has come to my attention that the world needs more reality TV shows. It has also occurred to me that the hobo is severely underrepresented on the national airwaves. Therefore, I have decided to "shop around" my idea, which I have tentatively titled "Who Wants to Lick a Hobo?"

I'm thinking that it'll be like The Bachelor, but with medical personnel standing by in case of infection. There could be little games to weed out the weak...like "Would You Eat That?", "Build a Lint Fort" and "Bindlestick Beatdown". Maybe we could even do a "Fingerless Glove Fashion Show"! Or a documentary about how rat is the lobster of the ghetto! The possibilities are endless!

June Verdict: Not Too Shabby

It's been a busy month! I turned 33! This did not bother me. The grey hairs on my head, in my nose, and on my nipple (how rude) do not bother me. The fact that I'm closer to exiting the 28-35 section of the demographic does not bother me. Hell, I'm not even bothered by the fact that my Dad was 33 when I was born. My biological clock is not ticking. No, the thing that bothers me is that my body is starting to protest. Not much, just a little bit, but it's noticeable.

For example, my right shoulder has always been problematic. As EVERYONE I KNOW can attest to, it's prone to crack like a gunshot at the slightest provocation. Now it's getting crankier and doing it at even MORE inopportune times. I was at Starbucks a while back, ordering my drink. I reach back to pull out my wallet, and BANG - my shoulder announces its presence. The girl behind the counter, I kid you not, jumped a little, then said "Daaaaaang", while giving me the googly eye, maybe wondering if my arm was going to fall off or something. I could only grin weakly, make a crack about AARP, and shuffled away to a corner to await my daily dose of sweet caffeinated chocolatey nectar.

I've discovered that I can't really ignore my body as much as I used to. I can't, for example, hold a 7 pound camera up to my eyeball for 8 hours straight and expect to NOT be in a significant amount of pain the next day. I should probably work out or something. Can't I just drink smoothies instead? Smoothies are good for you, right?

In other news, my partner and I shot a wedding earlier this month, and it was loads of fun. I took 3610 photos, which is sort of a mind-boggling number. On the one hand, it's good that I didn't miss much, but on the other hand, NOW I HAVE TO GO THROUGH ALL OF THEM.

Oh, and I got a little pal for my birthday. On the evening of my birthday, The Girl huffed and puffed her way up three flights of stairs, rang my doorbell, and handed me a huge box. Turns out it was a three story rat cage!

I've wanted a rat for a while now, but I kept putting it off because it seemed like it was a bit too soon. But Maisie died almost exactly 2 years ago, and she'd probably give me a stern look if she knew I was holding off on getting another little critter because of her. So now I have a little Blue Rat named Biscuit to keep me company. Here's a little video of her I shot yesterday:

http://youtube.com/watch?v=cwtGNcErC_o

Finally, I've been housebound for the last 5 days. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I was either poked or bitten (or both) on my feet by something I was severely allergic to. And by "severely allergic to", I mean that I couldn't even wear shoes, and had to clean open, blistery wounds, and take antibiotics as a precaution. I couldn't walk without my skin breaking. I still have no idea what it was that got me - I suspect that it happened while I was crashing through the brush on a hill by the beach on the day of the wedding. Next time, I'm wearing my boots!

And now I need to get back to processing photos. I'll leave you with a little slideshow I put together a few days ago. Half of the photos are mine, half of 'em are Rekabek's. All of 'em are pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.

http://redbatphotography.com/saraandmatt/