One needs both, passion and profit. Sorry, it’s pretty simple, you don’t eat, you don’t live, you don’t live and you don’t create art (or whatever strokes you.) So you got to work, but you can’t work properly, well, passionately, if you don’t take the time to also stroke your passion. (Yeah, the arts and sex go together, even when it’s just in a poor mixture of words.)
I can’t say there is one type of photography I always want to do, there isn’t. Call my love fickle, fleeting, erratic, whatever you wish. I call it varied, exploring, sensuous in all the senses and they can offer, though I just work in one (side note, who thinks I can learn the harmonica?). I’m at a point where I’m in love, with photography, but still, hopefully always, infatuated also. She, photography, has body, all of which I still want to explore. Sure, some areas I like to play with regularly, but I still want to feel all of her. But I also need to do the dishes sometimes, without being asked, to get some of the other exploration I want. But the exploration is ultimately what I want, and I’ll learn to do the dishes better for it.
Doing something for the sake of passion, for nothing but love, inspires you to learn, to improve, to make it to the next day when the previous was tough. Today wasn’t tough in the work end, in fact it felt pretty good. A bunch o’ hours finished off with profile images of two men doing outreach to the homeless and helping them get services. Real feel good work.
But the passion of the day was with Strange Tree and Aloft Aerial Dance. Emily, the writer for Strange Tree, is just damn good. I’m not a comedy guy. If you ask me, the funniest movie ever is Dr. Strangelove. I’m guessing it’s a little dark and cerebral for most people. Not to say that most people aren’t smart, many, but not all, are, the humor is just very political, and not so slap stick. Come on, fluoridation as a global communist conspiracy as a central joke? The lead humor being a sexualization of mid-air refueling of B-52 bombers? It’s just not for everybody. That’s cool.
But Emily can write humor I enjoy that isn’t that over the top cerebral stuff, just good laughs. Mix in some good ridiculous songs, and some good aerial dance. A good night, a good life. And some witch burning to boot. I’ve always been a fan of witch burnings. A real bummer we don’t do it anymore. Maybe it’s just having a good mob I like. Whichever, whatever.
It’s groups like this though, helping them out, and being able to compliment them, and let them realize how much happiness they bring me, it makes me happy, satisfied. I don’t have everything in life, not yet, eventually I’ll conquer Asia (and if I don’t, then I’ll be satisfied having a son named Genghis, you may be thinking I’m joking, but I’m not), but even if I don’t conquer, life is pretty damn good.
And if over the next three weeks you want to have a good night out, “Ghost Stories II :Crucible the Musible!” rates as the way to go in my book (I wasn’t even back in my car before I was trying to hunt down a friend to go see it with me this weekend.) Men, your lady friend will think you styling for escorting her to such a neat show. Ladies, if your man don’t like it, at least a little, and really, a lot, then throw him to curb, he asked for it. And don’t feel shy about letting me know you had to kick him (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).
I’m going to sleep like a baby tonight (my day started at 8am, it’s been pretty solid in one form or another till now, currently 2am, and I’ve got some work left to do), or at least what I think a baby sleeps like. (Reality be damned, this is my life.)
You’d think I’d know better than to do 19 hour days. You’d think. And it’s my day off.