Women, women, women, and cameras

My friends all suck. Some of them do it very well. I finish up weeks of work on a tedious, mind-numbing project. Every other day, someone was asking me to go do something, or help them with this, or do that for them. But now that I’m free of that yoke, and ready to party and let off some steam, they all bugger off to god-knows-where. I even had an honest-to-God party on my schedule for Sunday night, and that got cancelled. So my party mood is all revved up, but God I hate going out alone.
So yes, I broke down and bought the new camera. Went with the Digital Rebel, because I’ve never been good with that peer pressure thing, or turning down pretty things that want me. And oh my God, it’s amazing. Reminds me what I’ve missed since I stopped using my Minolta so much. The optics on an SLR just blow away anything on a fixed-focus camera.
Okay… it hit me the other night when I was running to FedEx… the Presidential Inauguration here in DC is like the prom. A great big show with no real meaning, attended by a bunch of people who normally wouldn’t spit on each-other. The sheer number of limos that flood downtown cause their own little localized ozone hole. All the cool kids are here. Haven’t seen so many out-of-town visitors since … since nothing. Not even the Cherry Blossoms bring in this many people.
We went out to celebrate Autumn’s birthday a couple weeks ago. It must have been a Saturday, because Autumn and I spent the day doing the tourist thing again. We met up with everyone, though, for dinner at Tuscana West. I knew we’d be under-dressed, just by having walked past that place frequently, when I used to work on 15th Street. But when I walked in there, it was the whole prom thing again. All I could say to my friends was “This must be where yuppies go to die!”.
We went up to the Russia House afterwards. Had never been to that place, and only heard intimidating things about it. Which really, upon reflection… is all crap. One of the girls we were with had a cousin, sister, or roommates-cousin who once dated the owner or bathroom attendant, and got us past the doorman. But unless you go to the dining room, which we didn’t, you’re simply crowded ass-to-ass in this narrow, furniture-packed, red-velveted bar which would easily fit in my apartment. (A feat some restaurant’s bathrooms can’t manage.) There were many cute girls, and I even talked to one or two. Thankfully Kier fell for the girl who interested me most, so that he became the one heartbroken when we found out she was married.
Probably left there around two or two-thirty, and hopped on the subway before it closed. As usual, I was headed in the opposite direction from everyone else, and ended up waiting alone on the platform. It wasn’t such a bad wait though, because I had the chance to fall in love. This girlslashwoman, more drunk than awake, became annoyed with her friends and came over to talk to me. A beautiful dusky redhead with a grin that inspired feelings in its recipient. And half-cocked, we still had an amazingly intelligent conversation for about 10 minutes, as her friends–all male and full of hateful testosterone for me–looked on. A smart, beautiful, interesting, world-traveler wanders over and talks to you… how do you not fall in love?
Yet again, I fall in love by stepping out the front door.
You know… as a creativity and activity booster, I’m seriously considering setting some standards for myself. Ie… I must take at least one photo a day. I must write something each day. I thought about saying I had to paint or draw something each day… but that’s a more serious time commitment. What else could I do?…
I have to get up in the morning and go take pictures of the Ronald Reagan building while the sun is facing the correct side. I convinced my client to use a photo of the building, but don’t know of any cheap stock photo sources for the building. Sounds like a job for… dum da da dum… the Digital Rebel!
God I need to get out more often.
Three weeks and counting to Visqueen.