One of those gloomy, windy days where I feel myself forced to go out and shoot no matter what’s going on. It never did really live up to what I thought was on the way but I did get a bunch of moody shots… First time in a long while where I was out shooting for myself and not for some project. I expect that I’ll make my way to B&H pretty soon with a digital card to stick in the 7D – just so I can do some tests for myself to see what it’s like at higher ASA – and then be able to compare it with the 40D. I still can’t quite afford the thing, but it’s close now and if orders keep coming in at the current rate for another week or so… and if I really think the thing is completely usable at 3200 (yes, I’ve seen some stuff other people have shot but I need to test it for myself) then I’ll spring for it. I plan to go on Sunday. I have two more students booked, and so in this very short while the other site has already made more money for me than all the futzing with the books. I still feel like kicking myself over that detour.
Of course it is ironic that even this minor cash outlay is consuming me as opposed to the old (and very unhappy days) when I would have picked this or a full-frame up without much thought. I can remember how I felt that these new toys were compensation for the oppression I was feeling back then. Ah, if only I had been born into a rich family. I know – it sounds like whining – and I guess it is – but at times it just seems so idiotic that when I had tons of money I was miserable. And when I threw it all away – I have had a much more satisfying life. Maybe what I need to do is get back together with Lester and hit the track the way we did in the olden days. Talk about misery… gadzooks. Well, if nothing else, I have been wanting to photograph at the track for a long time — and I think that will be my next outing. I’m not sure if Les goes anymore since he had a bit (uhm) of a gambling problem back then. That’s one addiction I never did have.
Probably that’s because it wasn’t part of my background. My paternal grandfather was a gambler. And my grandmother often had to hide the weekly money from him. My father was so traumatized by this that he grew up hating anything that had to do with gambling. Especially cards. Even when we were kids, playing poker for bits of torn up paper, he refused to play with us. In fact he refused to play any card game, or any game where money was involved.
My mother was the opposite. She loved to play gin rummy for money and was very good at it. I could never beat her. She said that it came from a time in her thirties when she was very ill; and while she was recovering from one of those ancient diseases that you never hear about any longer, she would lie in bed and play rummy with her older sister for days at a time. I never did see her lose. I can remember that look in her eye – when she’d say: What’s the name of this game? You couldn’t believe she had won again. RUMMY! and she’s slam her hand down to show you.
My father and mother were complete opposites in so many ways – that someday – I always tell myself I just have to write a book or a story about them. Really an incredible partnership. If you know Freudian terms, it was like being brought up by the super-ego (my dad) and the id (my mom). Well, if you keep writing long enough, maybe you can make a connection to the picture of this couple.