Look at me!

Here’s some random tourists standing in front of the Japanese Bridge, one of Hoi An’s proudest sights. Built in 1593.

How is it that a picture of yourself / your tribe standing in front of a thing is so much better than just a picture of a thing, or of somebody else in front of the same thing, or even just a picture of yourself?

I guess if we didn’t prefer our own faces, we could just hire one very very beautiful group to go have their pictures taken all over and call it a day. Then, after vacation we could just dial up the location and make up an album… the caption would be “I was there and it made me feel as good as those people look!”


a) Ponsonby is a cool neighborhood 

b) new iPhone 7+ camera is really really awesome… this is unedited. Yes, Carol, I know your phone has been able to take pictures like this for years. 

Picture This

Uncle Frank’s memorial inevitably included a rummage through old boxes of pictures. Here are a couple that I thought were especially evocative. Kind of post-war American optimism above and then post-Kennedy American optimism below. Yes, Lee is in both pics. 


On my recent trip I spent a lot of time taking my camera in and out of a pocket or backpack, turning it on and off, trying to grab a shot before it was too late. As a result, there were a fair number of unintentional exposures: hooray for digital cameras with no marginal per-picture cost.

For whatever reason, this one struck me as inordinately attractive when I looked at it that evening. Pure formlessness, unreconizable. So much of the trip was a fairly intense attempt to recognize something: a bike rider behind his sunglasses, a half-remembered word on the menu, the correct exit off a roundabout, a pedaling threshold that will balance beating the guy in front with the possibility of cramps. A whole lot of left brain, and in that sense not unlike my normal life.

Somehow, this blurry picture which appeared in my camera roll one tired evening led me to a sort of mini epiphany and served for the rest of the trip as a reminder to stop, switch cerebral hemispheres, and just enjoy, which I did.

The more things change 

Don’t you think Georges Braque would be amused, and raise a glass with Andy Warhol in whatever demented paradise they inhabit, to see how an open patio door subordinates his poster to this Coke sticker?

Estey Organs. 

Estey Organs, full stop. Which is a funny, see? Organs, stops?

As many times as I’ve been by these buildings, I never noticed that sign until today. 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑