i like to tell stories : 2009 : December

December 31st, 2009

Burning, Burning, Burning

Los Angeles | The End of Summer | September 23, 2009

– – –

Two days earlier, I had driven to see the burn and not the fire and been turned away at every attempt. This day, I happen upon an area far from the other that looked like it should burn and burn soon, so I stopped and pretended it was already on fire or it was already burned.

I walked the winding path upward and stopped where it wound back upon itself. I photographed from this spot for 52 minutes never venturing more then a few feet this way or that.

I made one photograph towards the crest then turned and made a photograph towards the view. Within seconds I turned back toward the crest… There, not 10 feet away now sat a large, red and awfully silent fire truck. It had stopped short from running me over while my back was turned.

I looked at the driver and nodded out of shock to see him there so clearly through that giant glass windshield. He smiled and nodded back as I was now stepping out of the way to let it pass by. As it did, through the rear windows I saw many fireman’s faces, all laughing as they stared back at me through the glass.

December 29th, 2009

I Know Why

I Know Why These Wings Won’t Fly Goodbye

3:59:51 PM | Monday, December 28, 2009 | Texas

I am a prince looking for real wings in fields of magnetic pretend bunnies.

December 28th, 2009

Red Thumb Fist

December 27th, 2009

The Last Time I Was In Texas | XI

December 26th, 2009

The Last Time I Was In Texas | IX

December 26th, 2009

The Last Time I Was In Texas | X

December 25th, 2009

I Cannot Fly

December 24th, 2009

BWI | 9 Hours

I spent 9 hours in BWI trying to get to Texas yet this is not why it was so familiar or why I felt the way I did and I hadn’t ever been here before. Only one other day compares to this day and it too was in an airport only it was not this one. The feelings were the same, for the same reason and these feelings were unwanted.

December 24th, 2009

BWI | Blue

December 23rd, 2009

The Last Time I Was In Texas | VIII

December 23rd, 2009

BWI | Red

I Am Red (In The Face)

(even in the fucking eyelashes)

December 22nd, 2009

The Last Time I Was In Texas | VII

December 21st, 2009

The Last Time I Was In Texas | VI

– – –

I am (almost) in Texas now looking for stories. Should you have one to share, like to be in one that I can share or otherwise desire me to photograph you, just let me know as chances are, I will likely come right over. I will also likely be spending more time in Texas these following moments than I have since I lived in Texas 21 years ago.

Photographs or clay shooting, I am awaiting and desiring invitations.

December 20th, 2009

Learning To Bite December Secrets

December 18th, 2009

#1432

27 minutes, 17 seconds
Los Angeles | The End of Summer | September 17, 2009

December 17th, 2009

Big Blue Man

11:02:00 PM

Los Angeles | The End of Summer | September 23, 2009

December 16th, 2009

#1RN | Tam Vo

One of 697 photographs of Tam Vo on the day before my birthday.
3:46:20 PM | 2009

December 16th, 2009

Little Blue Man

7:49:13 PM

Los Angeles | The End of Summer | September 21, 2009

December 16th, 2009

Thanks Raohl

(gift of hat)

December 15th, 2009

Swarm | {forthcoming book}

swarm | New Hampshire – Maine | May 2009

December 14th, 2009

The Furnace (for Larry)

December 13th, 2009

Five Seconds And One Woman

She saw me looking at her. I took her photograph. She turned away. I took another.

2:04:47 PM | 2:04:52 PM

Los Angeles | The End of Summer | September 21, 2009

December 11th, 2009

One Man, Standing Alone

City of the Violet Crown | 8/22/09 | 2:26:21 PM

One Man, Standing Alone

Three Men, Standing Alone

December 10th, 2009

A Kiss

11/28/2009 | 3:56:09 PM | Brooklyn

December 9th, 2009

A Man In Connecticut

This one man stood up against a giant financial trading company when he realized something wasn’t quite right with the service they claimed to offer. When he kept getting louder and louder, rather than fix the system when they realized he was on to them, this company asked him to take his business elsewhere. So he continued to only get louder. Well done sir.

I know I can relate to this all too well, there should be more of these loud individuals in the world.

(Assignment for Forbes)

December 8th, 2009

33

Dover Furnace Shooting Grounds, NY

December 8th, 2009

A New York Night

From this place it is the Zero that I can see.

3:48:37 AM | 3:37:26 AM | 4:00:24 AM
November 30, 2009

December 7th, 2009

#1RN | 2/10/09 – 3:00:08PM

December 7th, 2009

Fortune

Today, my fortune cookie had no fortune.

Today, I ran into a photographer I have known 18 years and have not seen in maybe 7 years in an elevator I had no real business being in. While still a good photographer still making images, they no longer rely on photography for money.

Today, I mailed things I made to people that didn’t know they were coming nor asked for them.

December 6th, 2009

10/4/09 | Brooklyn

11:14:52 AM | 11:19:13 AM

December 6th, 2009

2 Spring Evenings

December 6th, 2009

B.O.E.

December 5th, 2009

11/18/09 | I

December 5th, 2009

11/18/09 | II

December 5th, 2009

11/18/09 | III

December 5th, 2009

11/18/09 | IV

December 5th, 2009

Blue Leaf | Blue Sheet

December 4th, 2009

Chateauroux Air Station

Fred N. Rabe Is My Mother’s Father
February 5, 1962 | Chateauroux Air Station, France
(N. is for Nelson, also my middle name)

My mother’s father, Fred N. Rabe was a noncommissioned Air Force personnel officer. He was in charge of several tasks including Humanitarian Reassignments, Foreign Jail Release of Air Force personnel and the notification of next of kin.

During Vietnam, he was the man that knocked on the door.

– – –

I cannot remember the last time I saw him alive.

I can remember him taking me to McDonald’s however and ordering my burgers for me, just how I liked them, plain and dry. I can remember watching him smoke as I ate them too. It was only a year or two ago that I learned he did this in secret and it was for me alone that he even entered the place.

I can remember seeing my mom on the phone when the call came and all the other details around this moment.

I can remember the Honor Guard at Arlington National Cemetery firing the shots at his funeral. I was not watching them, I was watching my grandmother. I had not yet entered the third grade.

1957 | Quam, Mariana Islands & 2001 | Arlington National Cemetery, VA

December 4th, 2009

Monday | December 9, 1968

Charles S. Saunders Jr. Is My Father | The Pensacola News – p. 5B

Also of note, on p. 5B:

December 4th, 2009

“SLUG”

Charles S. Saunders Sr. Is My Father’s Father
USMC | SMS-12. MAG-12.
(birthday listed made him two years older then he was, reason unknown)

We called him by the name given to him by others: “Slug.”

The origin of this nickname is believed to be a shortened version of the word “slugger.” He got that from playing football in Texas because of how hard he hit others. It is not known if these hits were from Slug hitting in legal football plays or just hitting people in general… very hard.

Slug went to Texas A&M for college and in December 1941 was a sophomore. It is grand Texas Aggie folklore/fact that after Pearl Harbor, almost all the Texas Aggies joined the Marine Corp. My grandfather Slug was one of them.

He served several years and went on to meet my grandmother at a USO function and they settled back in Texas.

– – –

I only lived in Texas for three years growing up and did not really see him very often. The last time I can remember seeing him alive was during the last year I lived my three in Texas. I was a freshman in high school and was just wrapping up the JrROTC final inspection of which I was a large part. It was the largest formal inspection/review I ever did and was a very big deal. At the time, I had no idea he even knew it was taking place. I was leaving the review field and walking back towards the campus. I saw a lone figure standing under a tree watching us all leave from a far in that small spot in the shade. As we got closer the figure waved and I realized it was him, Slug, my grandfather. It was a little shocking yet a welcome surprise. He hadn’t joined my mother in the bleachers or even gone with the other spectators, he had watched it all from that spot.

I left the group I was with and walked up to him, we only shared a few words. He shook my hand and as I walked back towards the others, I would turn and look back every few steps. He was still there, standing under that tree.