Seattle Walking – 12/1/18

heavenly tangle
Above at Freeway Park.
christmas crows
Spooks of Christmas.
into the steel jungle
Into the concrete jungle.
soviet lotus
Bloc art.
out of focus
Helios 40-2. Short tempered and fast as hell on focus.
pike place sign
The one picture most people get. But this one’s mine.
no drones allowed
No fly zone on the boardwalk.
ferris wheel reflection
Reflections are a misery.
5th ave theater
5th Avenue Theater. Loud and proud.
fantastic geometry
The waterfalls have been off every time I’ve been.
freeway park dec 2018
Freeway Park. Better when it’s brighter out.
where am i
“Where am I?”

Voices – Journal 11/19/18

This month has marked another good turning point in a couple of spheres for myself.

Photography: getting paid for it. Drones? Repaired and able to fly (after demonstrating what is undoubtedly amazing electrical engineering skills by having a battery explode in my hands). Website? On point, with a better layout and more effective front page. A copy of Microsoft Office so I can actually be productive on my machine? What does this mean exactly?

One of the things I’ve struggled to take care of is actually come up with a publication that’s somewhat all-encompassing of my work. Something for the drone side, the photography side, the poetry side, and even the short story side. Since I have an idea of where the Deneb Mythos are going and Reality City is alive on the site and in the airwaves, I can sit down and come up with a publication that at least covers my bases for the big three. Poetry, drones, and photography.

So that’s good. A step in the right direction. That, and another step has been made towards backing up RRC on as much as possible again. Now, this includes Betaflight, and all my drone flash memory files. As well as stuff from professional portraiture. Never before has Radio Reality City been known to have that in its portfolio, but it does now, and I have indeed gotten a couple of gigs here and there.

But there is one phenomenon still looming that I am quite afraid of. My poetry output has waned to the point that ‘one a day’ posting is no longer feasible for the long term. As you’ve likely noticed, I haven’t had a lot of stuff to put up in the name of photography either outside of recent shoots. I still don’t have a super well-defined release schedule for broader lengths of content overall. The ideal is to have a M-T-W-Th-F schedule of content centered around different aspects of Radio Reality City, my setup for it just isn’t concrete yet.

Unfortunately for the site, but fortunately for me, I’ve been able to do a lot day-to-day, so the times that come to pass for being able to focus on content here comes about just once or twice a week.

shrouded edit

Because stuff like this is what I’ve been up to! I’ve gotten much better at overall composition, direction, and editing of photos in the last few weeks. It’s been a while since October, but that’s okay. It’s happening now. I’m doing work!

I hope that’s enough for an update. If you happen to be a regular (or anyone, really), feel free to peruse the writing page and flick through some of those short stories. If you’re looking for some reading material, I am always looking for feedback on execution of these things. In what will hopefully be a slight petering out of content, I would love to see my short stories grow into a respectable side of Radio Reality City.

Thanks for tuning in, as always, and continue to consume reality!

Radio Reality City!

https://radioreality.city

 

 

Hunter Portrait Shoot – 11/16/18

Portrait shoot with Hunter Gilbert the other day. This one was at Wright Park, an arboretum out in Tacoma. Another very autumnal shoot, only slightly offset by the wintery clothing. The flannel did quite a bit to dissuade that idea.

The Helios 40-2 is showing itself in the very swirly pictures again, with the hang of its center focus still being a bit to get used to. Still had a bunch of fun out and about. Thanks again for humoring me, Hunter!

De3thwish

Fields of wheat weave silent
Sitting rooted something thin

Wind threading in and out
Nothing stirs above but when

The war ends

Sits a lone gunslinger
Shell shocked pain reaver

Jacket yellow as the crops
Copper soil but the plots

Where bodies bled out
And brown uniforms turned

To mulch

Overworked by the ruin
Wrought by the struggle

Wheat whips in wind
Around the gun wielder

Had a deathwish that
Ended when he didn’t

Knew nothing but shooting
Now staring at irony

This was the last fight
He needed to fight

Watching the sun set
Over the meadows
Staring at cliché
Uncomfortably

Alone with the moment that
Came after guns stopped

After
All
Applauded

After all
The guns
Stopped clapping

Grace Dahl Portrait Shoot – 11/10/18

* * *

Fun shoot with Grace Dahl the other day. It helped how much of a natural she seemed at being in front of the camera, and I got an earnest chance to try out that Helios 40-2. Very nice, chilly, transitional weather in Puyallup gave some fantastic natural light, so I got to use the most of my aperture. With autumn quickly becoming winter, the skies were clear, and the ground was awash in orange.

 

Sleepovers

I haven’t felt so normal
In so long

I guess it only makes sense
That after having you over
I get to wake up to abnormal
When I roll over and you

Aren’t there

Nidhogg

Look on and despair
Ye
Deep sea serpents
And articulate devils

I am the true
Nidhoggr

And you will
Understand fear

Ellensberg Omen

You can’t but see the haze
Lung irritating
Trees on horizon hills
Lay cloaked, beyond still

A leak below
Spitting sulphur
Into a crystal sky
To turn smokey quartz

What was once beautiful
Is now still in a different form
Now torn the ground
And make leak the unfound

All the birds call
For any port in this storm
Tracking the air
Like veins in a hand

Reaching with their wings
Momentarily
Through the choking
Air caked with grime

Before the world returns
To a façade of
Smokey quartz
And no sanctuary in ports

Just a burn and purge
Just the cleansing smoke
Snuffing a citrine
Starless sky to silence

Off in the distance
There stirs nothing
For the weak find their
End in an air of quartz