| haiku |
[Feb. 20th, 2006|10:16 am] |
plumbing go explody
basement floor now very clean
apocalypse unfeared |
|
|
| Get your lose on |
[Nov. 2nd, 2004|04:05 pm] |
[edited 110504]We brush the dust off with a slide down the greased pole- a visit to the Kerry rally on the eve of a savage disappointment.
let's start with the assumption that the election was a load of cock- which it was- and go from there; a timourous bending of the moral compass for distasteful purpose is always beat by a righteous disregard for the moral compass. Kerry didn't have the balls or the means to put his foot to the floor. Unshakeable confidence in your dishonesty, like Bush et al, is more compelling than holding your nose for a white lie. add that to the general distaste for complexity and logic and immunity to reason exhibited by the great unwashed, and the Democrats are doomed. hell, I feel better for having voted my conscience and not the ticket, anyway...:)
what did we see?
superspy Jesse Jackson (12:30a):
Yes, many sensed a disturbance in the force...( Read more... ) |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 31st, 2004|02:31 am] |
|
there's a lot more to be said about this thing. maybe as it strikes me. however, the one true lesson of this is that i need a real camera. I had to WORK MY ASS OFF to make the shots i made. everything was taken with a 2.0 MP fuji finepix. oh, and i have now professionally edited photographs with MS Paint. I am a god. |
|
|
| long past relevant |
[Jul. 31st, 2004|01:10 am] |
is this log. one last narrative and that's that. There's a lot of things about Kerry's speech, yak yak, etc. suffice to say that once I decided to watch the event from the relative sanity of Sully's on Canal, the event, the world, and the last week really jumped into perspective. My one regret is that I missed the only coverage of the thing that mattered, the only airtime that reflected most accurately the nature of the event and the nature of the audience- the Daily Show. comedy is a thin chocolate coating over the bitter pill of saying things no one wants to hear, folks- pay attention.
So what happened? the paper was a big hit- we were the toast of the convention, and I got my clippings. Some people didn't even get that. the first edition sucked but it got better every day. I had had a few misconceptions about the project- I thought we were independent of the Globe. we were, only in that we didn't ask them for anything, but they still had a final cut.
I had thought we were to be edgy- I now realize that my idea of edgy is, uh, slightly edgier than was wanted. that's understandable, but dear lord, some of those heads were lame. Overall, it wasn't what i expected, but then, it wasn't my baby, either.
and was it like in the Fleet Center? well, it was a little like this (they made the place into a fine reproduction of the JFK Library, which was really rather creepy):
and a lot like this:
mostly, it solidified a lot of my extraordinary alienation from the proceedings. the upshot of a convention isn't even about the media coverage anymore- it is, as Walter Mears put it delicately, a "hell of a party". this is your reward, dear, earnest, conniving, half-brained low-level pol from Sandusky, a big show just for you- now go lord it over your neighbors and make them jealous and raise us some more money. for the media, it's summer camp for grownups- instead of macrame, we like to pull our hair out over insane deadlines- makes us feel all warm and fuzzy inside. plus, the stories write themselves, none has to travel more than 300 yards to find a source, and a big comfy bus takes you to all the parties.
outside, it was slightly different story:
Outside definitely had it's high points; yesterday. the whole civilization of protesters being forced to deal with the anti-abortion dudes and the pro-bush wackos is a great story. last night- you know, I'm a 1st amendment purist, unlike a lot of these anti-whatever progressive shitheads- those stonebrained skinheads can say whatever they feel like and I'm always happy to have the conversation: I'm far, far beyond righteous indignation at this point, but what I'm really wondering is, why were they all so hot?
as has been noted, I'm not gay, but I can appreciate the aesthetic of male beauty, and those skinheads were damn pretty. another mystery
Oh, and was I moaning the other day about that picture I tried so hard for?
I almost wept. i knew it was there, i knew i just had to find it.
Now that's it's over, I think I will be happy to the end of my days that I was locked out of the Fleet Center. Something Devin said at the 'yay for us' meeting this morning brought it home for me. she said how lost and alone she felt the first day inside, but after four days, she said she "really felt, like, I was at home," she said hi to everybody she met, she had lunches, made friends and stuff; a whole little world, coalesced for four days, and when you are in that kind of pressure enviroment, nothing really gets in. none of us read the news for four, five days; we didn't have time. but I had a foot in the real world and a foot the DNC world, and now I have the answer- no wonder nobody cares; a circus like that, no one has time to step back and see the real world.
I stayed out of the bubble, but close enough to see the process, and that's given me a perspective no one else had (although, I must say, given how I felt about it, I can only imagine that the bunker staff were a tad bitter- I feel for you, i do). I went into this thing a misfit, and I stayed that way, and I'm glad. I never want to be so far into an enterprise like that that I forget that there's guy in a bar 60 yards away who give tell me more and better information about the state of the nation than 99 bright young things in power suits from the NYT.
we wrote a lot of good, solid, vaguely wonky, crossover stories that probably let a lot of people into the media circus in a way they hadn't had. But I got to see the part of it that was real- the nuts and bolts, the people who aren't ever going to write for anybody but dish out the food and drink, the staggering insanity of the whole enterprise- on several levels, the DNC simply offended the senses.
But i got to keep my independence, I got to creep and roll, and I got to keep that wonder which i never hope to lose, no matter what scene i'm in, no matter what kind of work I'm doing, of seeing something I'm not supposed to see.
I had no place in there,but I was there; in essence, the definition of a journalist.
Thus I remain, as always, your superspy:
Carl Brooks |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 30th, 2004|10:11 am] |
That's that- I'll post last night's story and pics from yesterday later this afternoon. I watched the convention from Sully's on Canal- the world made a lot more sense in there.
I've got to do a little work on this log- people stopped caring about ten hours ago, so I need to make sure that the narraive is meaningful and the photos worth a second look. I think I've done that- you never know.
anyway, here's the capstone pic-bye:
 |
|
|
| hurrah for sleep |
[Jul. 29th, 2004|10:24 am] |
a whole six hours just feels soooo good. makes all my shitty feeling seem lke just what they were- weariness. I'm really, really glad to have done this thing, and in a way, I'm very proud that I got all these great shots and stories (even if they all got spiked) without ever entering the Fleet Center- even with the credential, I'm still a superspy.
I'm updating from the bunker- everyone else has gone on a tour of the convention hall. I', angling to weasel a pass out of the editors for later today. hey, did I say I didn't want to go in? no. ;)
so the nap didn't work out to well, amd the Blogger's Bash? feh- walking from Haymarket to Charlestown in the rain was extraodinarily unappealing; what, so I can get some grub and still have to feel like raccoon in a catfight? nah- I'm sure that Nancy Pelosi's PR squad are very nice drones, and I'm sure everyone there is just so eager to sleaze the bloggers into telling them the secret of getting intelligent, motivated young people to give them money and vote for them, but I decided to retire to the sanity and privacy of my own bar:
another thing that makes the world a little strange when you're that tired is standing in the Harvard T and hearing a group of young men caroling in ringing bronze bass notes in perfect harmony, "LaRouche, LaRouche..." Larouche has a theme song and it is, frankly, incredibly stirring.
the last item of news? according to Bree Herne, MediaNation staffer, a taxi went through the hardline at the Portland St. gate without credentials and the most cursory of searches. she says a staffer told her, "Security was tighter at Disneyland when I worked there." |
|
|
| see! |
[Jul. 28th, 2004|06:51 pm] |
today's paper was really nice, and not just because I finally managed to get some art up. the thing is really coming togther, we've hit our stride- tomorrow's the last edition.
butI thought we were aiming for edgy and sharp- our headlines and caps could probably be better described as 'doddering'. ;) stiil, it's a good rag- and FOX called us to whine about our MSNBC story- offered us Brit Hume on a silver serving dish. suckers.
I'm feeling a tad lost on the whole thing. it went well, but i basically ran around like a madman just so I could get some good shit for this phlog. I'm really glad i did it, since I wasn't getting into the perimeter without it, and it was a hoot and a half; but there's wasn't too much direction for me, so i ended up runing off after hares a lot, and the SNAFUs were grotesque. My fault- I should have stuck to reporting
There' is hope- I'm going to polish up my indymedia story and flog it out for friday- hopefully it'll find a home somewhere and I'll actually have done some reporting.
first gotcha of the day:
irony a plenty:
and here's is what the media look like in their natural habitat:
this one's a lesson: I tried for three days, night and day to get this shot, becuase I knew there was something there for me. I went back, I went around, I probably shot 30 pics of this damn thing and this is the best i could do- a failed shot. partly, it's a camera thing- my little toy finepix is very hard to handle at night and partly I was trying too hard to pull out the thing i was seeing- it wasn't there as much as I thought it was.
now for short nap and I am going to a goddamned party tonight- any party. i'll drop in the the Agathan Sister's weinie roast if necessary. tomorrow shuld be far more relaxed. |
|
|
| ... |
[Jul. 28th, 2004|02:45 am] |
ok- the Press Pavilion has free beer. free. beer. i know what i'm doing thursday night.
I'm going to leave here at 7AM. at least i made it home for the first time in 4 days. you know, the thing about reporting is not the hours, or grinding your teeth into stumps that look like used salt licks; it's the no clean socks. boy, do my feet stink.
things are looking up- my pic is p1 tomorrow, and it's a good fucking photo. tonight, without any real direction, I went out to shoot- and got some good shit. not really newsworthy, but at least they're interesting.
first, spooky story time. at the west entrance of the Fleet Center, inside the security hardline, I saw this cool litte cam recording the fleeing delegates:
it belongs to this, which is already spooky enough:
I snapped a shot and the cam swiveled towards me- it was a remote. I was lining up another when a halogen light flashed beside the camera- "no more pls, thank you!" it was saying in a blue-white 900 lumen voice. a couple saw this and the woman exclaimed over the sheer creepiness of it all. I agreed, we yakked, and i said something like, 'It probably doesn't want us taking pictures(note the Secret Service logo)' and the camera nodded.
I was cool- I waved and said, "we're going now:)", and left. later i snuck back at took shot 2. but fuck me sideways if that wasn't the goddamed creepiest thing ever.
what else of note inside the safestplaceinamericaunlessyouranarab? well, the media live in the mothership:
and the whole shebang reeks of a certain attitude:
which all seems to be leading to a possibly well founded:
suspicion.
that suspicion may well be justified; I am a sneaky pervert:
and my two votes for art shots- protest zone:
and fan in the media lot:
longest...update...ever...errgh. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 27th, 2004|05:05 pm] |
This is a photo log- I use naughty words- that makes me a dirty phlogger.
It's been a shitty day. I'm starting to feel a litle lost on this thing. I was out until 3am snapping useless doc shots- a big waste of my tme, and i spent the day on a rabbit chase dealing with painted whores at MSNBC(producers) and generally getting nothing worthwhile out of it. I don't want my dirty phlog filled with doc shots- I want art, and I have hot, toasty shit on a cement cracker so far today. here's the round up- there's a little spark there, but not much. at least my photos are going up on the website.
first, the upbeat feel-good story of the day- the human softball in the shades called the extremely gay boy in the sweater a "mutant", and he responded, " well, I wouldn't want to be fat like you!"
so our apparently slightly over-baptised friend screams, and his voice cracks(I swear), "Stop checking me out!"
gaylad retorts "You wouldn't make it in a gay bar!" and walks away.
score? 1 for the gay.
the cops are laughing their asses off in the background- that makes the shot for me:
classic art-meets-life- look below the MSNBC sign:
iconic pic o' the day:
and another funny haha:
 |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 27th, 2004|05:01 pm] |
here is why all the pretty women smile at me, espcially in the morning.
;)
mental note- bring sunscreen to next convention. |
|
|
| arrg! my soul, she is torn |
[Jul. 27th, 2004|12:08 pm] |
the paper looks MUCH better today. but the Globe dumped my p1 blogger photo. so I have nothing but a writing credit. I wouldn't mind so much except IM DOING THIS FOR FREE. what, am I fucking cursed? is the globe operated by morons? is this a giant clusterfuck becuase no one tested the protocols beforehand? stay tuned for the answers.
favorite quote from tis morning (1:00AM outside Fanueil Hall: Mick Foley AKA Cactus Jack, talking to Malachai McCourt the irish author, "Well, in a literary context, I felt your novel exemplified.."
a photo for now- Jim Mullins, Worcester Satr-Telegram- he took a heartstopping shot of a fathermourning his murdered son last week- pulitzer material.
 |
|
|
| welcome to the machine;) |
[Jul. 26th, 2004|07:36 pm] |
***I started this post at 3pm- that should gve you, dear reader, some idea of what it's like in here- I'n fucking itching to get back out. I feel like a) i'm missing the fucking thing and b) i'm missing all the news.***
with my illicit blogger's breakfast sitting in my stomach like a bowling ball made of lard and horse glue, (DNC blogger Eric Schnure grumbles, "That wasn't really for you guys...") I am snatching precious work time to throw out the morning's faboo pic or so.
but first, the news- It Sucks. the paper blew chunks; there were egregious errors, the front photo sucked cock, and the Boston Globe decided for whatever reason to throw up a crap photo of a swat team that completely ruined the page, the premise of the off-lead and basically lightened the mood like a lead balloon.
the front page photo was beautiful, with depth and composition, it drew the eye and captured the mood IN COLOR. they printed us IN BLACK AND WHITE and apparently nobody warned us. I've been sitting here since 12:30 listening to M work her diplomatic magic with the globe people, and the Ed board is mum, but they have to know. the website looks ok
anyway what's it all about? yummy gooey grub in golden globes:
and making friends and influencing people:
(FYI, in the news business, queering someone's film roll on deadline is pretty much like spitting in their milk and shitting on their cookies- please, guys, don't hate me, its a great photo.)
and my favorite - That's Natasha C., right(beautiful), interviewing a scribe from the Boston Herald. the irony, oh, it slays me. I fall down, I ironize myself, to death, almost:
and the other good? hearing Walter Mears, one of the bona finde heros of modern journalism, a man who helped define objectivism in reporting and analysis, gigged by bloggers for thinking he's a member of the shadowy club of They. funny, wonderful.
irritating-Pandagon called him "AP blogger, Walter Mirs." um, no. "harshly interrogating an old man," dude, you're 20. if you think Mears was even slightly less than tolerantly amused, you need to take another look- he could've eaten anyone in there for lunch. "There was just no common ground"? he was telling you where to find a real story at a convention- if nothing else, that advice was pure, driven gold. |
|
|
| oing |
[Jul. 26th, 2004|12:34 am] |
I'm fucked- My feet hurt and my ass is sore. can't stand up and can't sit down. It's really the small indignities that get to a man after 15 hours on the job.
That was an intensely disappointing day. I'm thinking after this is over, I'll write up some of the true inside story on this thing. suffice to say I had a shot at doing a midnight pictorial with Al-Arabiya and it got SNAFUed...
If you don't eat, you don't get tired, at least for the first day.
here's Lukman Achmed, star of Al-Arabiya, looking like God:
and the true face our your content providers- just cause I like it:
oh, and real dirt- first, an anti-abortion wacko was shouted down by other protesters, had his sign grabbed(alledgedly) and was escorted out of the Boston Common by police. free speech my ass... fucking nazis.
and, a young lady of unimpeachable virtue was pawed, leered at and propositioned by the chief delegate from Ohio, who slurred all over her and then staggered away when she retched. that was Saturday night. |
|
|
| potty pics |
[Jul. 25th, 2004|03:50 pm] |
from last night-the "momentum"(gah) party at the absofuckinglutelygynourmous Boston Convention Center.
what can i say? there was a ferris wheel. A real one. there was curry that tasted good and there was free booze.
I tipped, and had to chip for a cab over there, consequently, I have $2.36US in my hands today, after batteries, coffee and T rides. whee.
anyway, this photo pretty much sums up the convention/media party/life in general for me...:
oh, and, there was a FOUNTAIN OF MOLTEN CHOCOLATE. sweet holy motherfuck:
the lovely young Harvard photog shot a picture of this with flash that made it look exactly like a gigantic turd icecream. I'm so jealous. |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 25th, 2004|01:08 pm] |
well that was pretty close to gonzo. not too close- I would have had to have been fucked up on wood alcohol or something to tip over that rubicon.
the iron taste is fading and the cold adrenaline fingers are gone, but that was spook central. Here's a lesson for security guards: don't yell at my ass not to take photos unless you them on the internet.
here's a lesson for me: when the large men in suits and armor start pointing, talking, and moving in your direction, your time is up.
photos:
here's the one that got me a nice little chat with a fed and Boston PD. if you look close, the fed is in khakis and white body armor, pointng up at my "undisclosed location":
a nice young lady yelled at me for these, " Sir, turn your camera OFF!" and "Don't let them film ANY of this!"
here's what the reporters are going through- and not filming ay of it(except for moi):
Portland Street- as I make myself even more popular:
Oh- did I mention this city is a huge fucking mess? nice for the visitors, nice:
now, why doth the media not protest? because they are working folks. they know that at some point in the not too hazy past, the wonks, the pols, the media execs and probably the federal authorities all sat down in a 12th story boardroom and soberly, quietly and with much nodding of heads and murmurs of agreement came to the conclusion that it would all be for the best and everything would go so much smoother if.
the journalists don't give a shit- they know this game was played by the people who got them into the digs, and they will bitch in the cool privacy of the nearest bar.
why do I want to break the rules? why are mountains there?
I had forgotten how much fun is to be out rolling, jumping fences and going places you're not supposed to go.:) |
|
|
| I almost feel good about today |
[Jul. 24th, 2004|12:11 am] |
if I didn't still have an interveiw with Chris Nowinski (Chris Harvard the pro wrestler) to type up and I've already forgotten 1/2 dozen angles and storylines. long, long day.
Nowinski is a former pro wrestler and the political commentator for WWE, which is doing some kind of wacky shit on the floor. should be fun. I had to conference with him and a PR flack who was, to be fair, not too controlling. WWE's doing 5 minutes per show(Smackdown) for the convention. I salute their efforts to rouse the wrestling fan.
playing hard to see the Daily Show set-up at BU, but apparently the place is a bunker. I might float over and talky-talky with the nice people. can't wait to start working in around the Fleet security. I fully intend to push my luck. I may get a rolling cred for the protest on Sunday , but We'll Just Have To See.
who wants to bet on the FBI warning today? I'm 8-5 on political vs CYA, but I'll take a line...if someone knows something I don't.
oh, and; What, I never tire of saying, The Fuck. I'm contesting this motherfucking street cleaning ticket- i got 21 days, shitheads, and the convention's over in a week. note, in the following, the sign in the inset and the date.
That's my van- |
|
|
| (no subject) |
[Jul. 23rd, 2004|11:38 am] |
|
we're offcially 24 hour until the end of the convention. I forgotted some very important stuff. my day is gone. starting to feel like early daffy duck; the original elmer/daffy dramas. |
|
|
| to do |
[Jul. 22nd, 2004|09:31 pm] |
before the convention gets rolling for me (sat. night) I have to:
kitty litter
wash and find all my big-boy clothes.
find some money-otherwise I'm doing a lot of walking around town
borrow a working laptop
clean the house(holy crap)
find a garage to get my brakes fixed-sounds like walnuts in a blender right now)
attend wedding
trim hair
clean my van (holy shit!)
fix darling's computer(cpu heat issues)
empty my bag of tools, weapons and flashlights
finalize decision on goatee(ren-fairie) a stache/soul patch(asshole) or go smooth(babyfaced). That's a killer.
oh yeah- I am offcially not getting a fleet cred. how does that feel? how does it feel to be locked out of the single largest media event I will attend for at least four years in my own hometown after having done the kind of work i've done? what the fuck. |
|
|
| how you like me now?? |
[Jul. 21st, 2004|10:45 pm] |
hows them first and fourth amendments feeling? here's where the protesters are going:
I cannot WAIT for worldwide images of the protesters crammed under the old Green Line el like concentration camp victims. heads will roll when we see "Dachau, Boston 2004" on CNN. or better yet, FOX.
oh dear-election fraud rears its ugly head again. what's the lesson? traditional methods of wardheeling, intimidation, and bribing election officials simply will not stand up anymore . aim higher and streamline the process.
as for me? ebbeh, ebbeh. note the time stamp and let me tell you EXACTLY what my life consists of. nah- it's too gruesome. suffice to say that i'm feeling right at home in the chaos, despite having to count change to buy coffee. tomorrow should be splendid. oh fuck; now I know I'm delirious... |
|
|
| holy shit |
[Jul. 21st, 2004|11:43 am] |
either my PC speakers or my wireless net are picking up CB traffic from passing trucks. I heard a voice tune in in (probably) portoguese for 30 seconds and fade out as a truck went by the house. mental note: put sniffer on laptop and take a walk around the house.
mental note 2: filing from home has advantages and disadvatages. wearing pants on the phone defintely makes one feel more like he or she is actually working...
Wonkette interview went pretty well. I'm supposed to hook up with her and get a mug shot on Saturday. what kind of coverage is she plalnning? "I plan to cosume as much free alcohol as posible" |
|
|
| navigation |
| [ |
viewing |
| |
most recent entries |
] |
| [ |
go |
| |
earlier |
] |
| |
|
|
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
abreedapart's journal