Monday 21 November 2011

I have tried to eschew my love of things...

...but this phone is great.

Over a decade ago I had a phone like this. It was the nokia communicator. It was the size of a brick and the battery didn't last. I couldn't even connect to the net...well...only once...and we looked at pictures of pretty ladies...and the waiter helped me connect it to the internet...in the indian restaurant in Coventry where I was sitting.

The phone I'm using now has an internet connection which connects even though I'm sitting in what feels like a forest except for the sound of cars in the background.

I am also typing on a smartphone. This one is a little better. It connects to the internet easily. It is a little smaller and most of all it has a better battery life.

That's all. In a decade. It is also cheap. There are better smartphones out there. This one just gives me all I need.

What it offers me is something I couldn't have dreamt of a decade ago. I would be poor yet I would still have my dream device. It is freezing out here but the keys are made right so I can still type.

The thing is...with photos I'm different. I've recently started carrying my camera with me again. I found a lens but its a poor quality one. I just don't bother thinking about using it. I've tried. The results are shit. The photos aren't composed badly but the reproduction just isn't right. I've yet to take them into the lightroom and see what I can do with them because...well...yeah...whatever.

I don't own my dream photography setup yet. It would cost a lot more because I want good lenses. Those still cost a lot and don't depreciate quickly like digital cameras do.

There is nothing like a good lens. Damn. I miss those and the realistic hope of owning one again. An L-series. I'd swap sex for one of those. A beautiful lens is something which allows me to make images.

Sent from my smartphone

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About Me

We It comes in part from an appreciation that no one can truly sign their own work. Everything is many influences coming together to the one moment where a work exists. The other is a begrudging acceptance that my work was never my own. There is another consciousness or non-corporeal entity that helps and harms me in everything I do. I am not I because of this force or entity. I am "we"