DAY TEN

There’s a scene in the film “As Good As It Gets” when Jack Nicholson pays Helen Hunt one of the greatest compliments she has ever received. He says, in a fumbling way, that he has a condition where if he takes pills they could have a great improvement on his well being. But that he hates pills, with an emphasis on the word HATE. And his compliment is, after spending a day with her he decides to take the pills. She’s baffled and doesn’t know what to make of this compliment and then he delivers this great line to make it all come together, “You make me want to be a better man.” And that brings us up to speed to day ten.

With even the raunchiest of things I’ve heard come out of Jessica’s mouth, she’s still the sweetest person I know. She has a beauty that makes you feel warm and cozy, she says things like “oh my” and still feels uncomfortable about saying “black” when referring to the race in question. She prefers “African American.” That’s a sweetheart and that’s the kind of person we all strive to be. Good, honest and considerate. Well, except me. While Jessica can be the bubbliest and most heartfelt person I know, I’m by far the biggest asshole I know. I say stuff like “Get behind me douche bag” to an infant while waiting in line for ice cream at Rite Aid because I was clearly was in front her and I need my fix of chocolate malted crunch. I don’t care if it is 9am. I’m already pissed because they ran out of pecan praline and now I have to get another chocolate ice cream on top of my rocky road instead of the diversity that I wanted in my pint.

I also yell at retarded people in the movie theater when they’re talking. I pretend and say “I didn’t know they were retarded at the time.” But I’ll tell you right now, I’d do it again. Nobody ruins New Moon for me even if it is a shitty movie. Anyway, while I tell Jessica on a regular basis that I hate her and make fun of her bad B.O., which she totally doesn’t have I just say this because again for the cheap seats, “I’m an asshole!” I know she’s the epitome virtue. She makes you smile with her smile and even when you feel like she’s forcing one, it still looks genuine. I’d like to think that even her smiling, makes herself smile. But she’s an oxymoron that one. She’s adorable and sexy within the same instance. She takes your heart on a whim through a childlike adventure and still manages to find the time to be tempting. It’s a very impossible combo to achieve, like two flavors of chocolate being mashed together *sigh*, but she pulls it together in such a lovely way that I begin to force feed my impertinent self those proverbial pills and say “You make me want to be a better man.”

Happy Birthday Jessica and thanks for putting up with my ill mannered character, as only you could, to be apart of this project. I hope you have a incredible day.

DAY NINE 

“Our life is looking forward or its looking back that’s it. That’s our life. Where’s the moment.”

I’d like to say that the first thing you notice about Angelle is her eyes or that cute little dimple she gets on her cheek when she genuinely smiles. Or how her smile makes you feel like you did something right in this life and you made a person, not just a beauty, but a person beam. Even if for a moment. But If I said these were the things that you noticed at first glance, I’d be lying to you. It’s obviously that physique. It’s a figure that really doesn’t seem to match the personality. While her body may be rockin’, her magnetism as a woman is more that of a sweet little girl. She’s soft spoken, lovely, with a hint of innocence and she’s very animated and full of enthusiasm starting with the way that she speaks, down to the way she dances. But her looks aren’t entirely deceiving. While her nature may be very saccharine, she has a “deep dark chocolate layer” that is the kind of chocolate we all try to avoid. Not because it’s necessarily bad for you, no. But because it’s just so fucking good. That love potion called an aphrodisiac. It’s that thing that makes you close your eyes and just bask in the moment as if you’re sitting on the beach, letting the sunlight hit your face and by closing your eyes, it makes you feel the significance of that moment further than you had ever imagined. That’s Angelle. She’s one of the very few people I know that can hold you captive in a moment. But who am I kidding, it’s the only kind captivity that I wouldn’t mind being institutionalized in.

DAY EIGHT

PREFACE

“What if I told you insane was working fifty hours a week in some office for fifty years at the end of which they tell you to piss off; ending up in some retirement village hoping to die before suffering the indignity of trying to make it to the toilet on time? Wouldn’t you consider that to be insane?”

CHAPTER ONE

As I got older, age wise, my toys went from He-Man to DSLR’s. From Garbage Pail Kids to HD video and Sega Genesis’ NBA Live to iMac’s Final Cut Pro. I hope I didn’t do a fly by and you knew at least one of those things. But at any rate, I like to watch my son play with his toys, in which he designated my bed as GI Joe headquarters or Bionicle stomping ground. “Pshhhckaaa” he says as he throws Iron Man in the air followed by a “aaahhhhhh, my leg” says his GI Joe. I miss that. It’s when all worlds can collide. Where Ninja Turtles can hob nob with Bionicles while Furbees can be ridden by action figure Dennis Miller, hey these are my ideal toys, all while Hot Wheels zip by on those plastic strips that I never left around the house by the off chance my dad would trip on them and decide they were better than the belt. After all the belt is all the way in the other room. Inventive I’d call it. Adaptive, that’s my pop.

Where was I? Toys. I think we all need that escape, I definitely do. It’s probably why I collect lame t-shirts like my surfing shark shirt, in which I like to run at people and yell “Shark Attack!” or my “Party Wagon” TMNT shirt or my ultimate fave “Do you ever fuck with rock and roll?” Blakroc shirt (look for that in tomorrows blog). Completely inappropriate I know, but who cares if the woman at Chilli’s hates it as I walk to the bathroom. It’s freaking comfortable and besides who puts ketchup on their sizzling chicken fajitas? Don’t you dare judge me you flaccid taste buds having wench. Call me insane, a well groomed hobo or a two headed turkey with Aspergers but don’t you dare call me garden variety or Chris Klein. I’m more of the Kevin Kline in “Dave” type and don’t you forget it.

THE END…

…maybe.  

DAY SEVEN

Oh man, there’s something about Michelle that just speaks volumes. She’s obviously incredibly gorgeous, but there’s a cuteness to her. She’s serious, but silly at times. She pretends to not be able to figure it all out but when she speaks, she knows exactly what she’s doing. I normally have a knack for being able to find the light in people within minutes, but I have a feeling I’ll never be able to figure her out. She’s that incredible.

While editing these images I couldn’t find a tone that I was comfortable with. I became fixated on what interesting venture her mind might be sightseeing through. I’d find myself sitting back listening to Corinne Bailey Rae, whom I never would have pegged Michelle for liking, needing a drink in my hand and shifting my head to the side and musing, “What the fuck are you thinking about?” But then I’d bring myself back remembering what I’d say if someone asked me that. “If I wanted you to know, I’d be talking.” And that’s Michelle. Her beauty and her being can make you dizzy with enchantment. That’s her talent, her gift. “When everything else is au fait” she’ll surprise you.

I had a point I planned to make with not being able to find an editing tone… but I’ve forgotten it now.

DAY SIX

F to the U to the N. That’s Jacky “The Amazing” So in a nutshell. I remember having so much fun starting with walking in on her laughing in underwear to playing ding dong ditch to practically everyone on my floor. Ahhh we laughed, she sang, incredibly well I might add, and she dressed as a mermaid. All the while, I had a monstrous toothache. Somehow I made it through this day feeling as if Jackie Chan kicked me in my jaw’s soul. How was this possible you might ask, how could one sustain the pain of feeling as if a needle was being inserted in to ones face by a fidgety dentist all day long? Well I’m glad you asked. On those hurtful days of sadness just have a full dose of Jackie. The chick that should have one of these images in the dictionary, so that when asked to describe fun, there she would be.

DAY FIVE

M. Solage is a Long Beach grifter and has been making moves for a while now. I hit him up today and asked him if he wanted to be apart of this project and honestly the cat just didn’t have the time. So I decided to shadow him with a 300 mm lens while he made his business happen on the streets of LBC. I was hoping I could see him burn powder all over a squad car with his .45, like he’s rumored to have done several times, or maybe catch him keeping his pimp hand strong by smacking down his bottom bitch, but no such luck. He kept his pump like coffee and eggs for two. He had an Italian sub at his favorite deli, puffed some Newport’s and from what I could tell he probably bitched out a jane or two while he unloaded into his blower. But the real was when I saw him make one of his sketchy back alley deals with what I could only imagine was one of his many peddlers. I just wish I didn’t know button on the end of that jaw. Kids gotta make a living I suppose.

DAY FOUR

It’s very difficult to throw together full on photo shoots while spending time with my kids. So here’s number two, Giovanni. As you can tell he’s the biggest ham this side of the Mississippi, hands down with his pants down. He’s a ball of energy and it’s difficult to snap a photo of him standing still. But with as funny as he can be, he’s a lot like his old man. He can’t tell a linear story to save his life. He skips around, his stories never make very much sense and he more often than not forgets what the payoff was or how to execute it. But I love him. Besides he’s only nine-years-old and when he gets something right he says “woo hoo.” Just a couple of great reasons for telling crap stories. Me on the other hand… *sigh*

EPILOGUE

Believe it or not, the cigarette was his idea.

DAY THREE

“BUTTHOLE!” I say as I sit down at the dinner table. My eyes are fixated on setting my plate down. My son Giovanni and my Jess turn around to see if I’m talking to them. “What does it feel like,” I pause as I continue, “to be so beautiful?” They realize that I am talking to my daughter Marissa and somehow she already knows my comment was directed at her. They all laugh as they realize I really could have been talking to anyone at the table.

I’ve always been really big on nick names, as most know, probably because I never had one that stuck as a kid. My son is “The Boy” because his mother and I didn’t have a boy name picked out until a week or so before he was born. My Jess is “Fingers And Toes” because she’s easy to count on… or as she’s more commonly known as, “Toots.” There’s my Bunny Face, there’s Moon Head, there’s Rowyco, Booger, Baby Toes and most recently Mack 10 and the list goes on and on. And while I refer to many people as “Butthole,” “Nerd,” “Douche,” “Chick” and so many others, I will never refer to anyone else as Princess. I may call Marissa “Munchkin” more often than not, but she will always be my one and only “Princess.” The best girl in my life.

DAY TWO

I intended to cheat and use a shoot I did for RAW with a incredible model. But nothing says beauty like Mackenzie’s half hour rant on how the Asians have the market cornered on mind shields for the homeless. These images I shot without using a single inkling of my photography skills. But how could I not post them? It was the highlight of my day.

Insert crazy, random, inside jokes here: Only homeless greens who are dizzy as fuh-ck can shout “girl you be workin dem boots,” and expect to toot it and boot it. They ain’t no solution solvers.

Ahhh Mack, you will be missed.

And here is day one. Lisa is so much fun and with her being a photographer, I couldn’t bring myself to make her actually pose. So I just let her talk and laugh. She does both so well. The shoot took us all in all a couple of hours if you count the beers and the tacos.

One down, 29 to go.