Thinking That Myself
Sunday. Up early, take a bath, get dressed, the usual routine. Turn right instead of left at Grand and drive downtown to catch the first BART train to San Francisco instead of going to breakfast; arrive at 8:30, spend two hours shooting the Dykes on Bikes as they formed up for the San Francisco Gay Pride Parade. I was tired after two hours, but physically tired and otherwise clear headed, feeling good, checking it out instead of zoning it out. When's the last time I've shot anything this early in the morning and felt like a human being? A couple of years? Since the prostate? Longer? This gets repetitious, I know, but this is good. This is very good.
I'm packing the digital up and shipping it to Nikon this week with a cover letter asking them to test the damned thing and tell me whether it meets spec. Everything is fine except for the color. Yes, yes, I've learned to manipulate the RAW files in PhotoShop, I've made the necessary effort, but I need a baseline from Nikon stating what I should expect. I've had this feeling that the first D2h replaced by B&H (because the vertical shutter release didn't work) shot better color. I could be wrong - I'm putting money aside to buy the next higher resolution non-sports model when it's released, I'm buying a digital only lens, I'm obviously hooked - but I want to know if I'm making this up.
Buy, buy, buy. Real photographers shoot, shoot, shoot.
I didn't hear any of that.
Monday. Did you notice? Another week. It's started. We received word MSR fell down a flight of stairs over the weekend - she's due in August - and sprained her ankle. Due in August and now on crutches means she's out for the rest of the year (which, I can assure you, is breaking her heart). This means keeping up with the work is essentially hopeless. Then again, it's been hopeless now for the last three years. What's my beef?
True, true. Best to have another drink.
I was thinking that myself.