Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Another meme question revealed...
While I did not like the war and while I could not fathom why people treated other people differently because of skin color, I participated in lots of protest marches more, to be egotistically honest, so I could take pictures, score marijuana, and meet girls.
Cruising around in my VW “Hippie” Bus (I’d pulled out the seats and had a bed and some crates that served as a writing table for my Royal portable clickity-clack typewriter), I passed a building with a sign that said “Associated Press.”
I thought it couldn’t hurt so I went inside without stopping at the reception desk and wandered around until I found the photo department and walked into some editor’s office unannounced and asked if they needed any freelance help.
Amazingly enough, the guy threw me a handful of rolls of Tri-X pan film and wrote some notes on a piece of paper and said, “Come back if you get anything.”
He even invited me to join his crew in ten days to sail an 18th century tall ship he had built to England. Even more than the AP job, I regret that I walked away from that one. Dumb ass! I remember saying the stupidest thing I’ve ever said: “I’d love to sail to England with you but I have to go back and take a final exam in English Lit.” Butler was only a fetus in my life then but I’m sure he was behind that decision.
I actually found a couple of the negatives but I remember taking many many pictures so either the AP guy took some of them as well or – after the beer and pot – they were so out-of-focus or abstract they made no sense.
To bring it to a close, however, I remember thinking it would be cool to shoot the lion cub from behind the leather recliner where it would run and hide and chew on things. It really was a cute little bugger, just a golden, fat, oversized kitten.
So I lay on the floor and slithered half around the leather chair and began calculating aperture and speed – since this was a bit before auto-everything cameras. While I was pondering, the lion cub was also pondering and I looked like too much fun to be left alone. So she suddenly jumped up to the back of the couch, bounced once on the seat, and landed on my legs which were stretched out behind my couch-covered torso.
The difference between a kitten playing and a lion cub playing is the lion cub breaks skin. What hurt more was banging my head on the couch springs when she sprung. The four tiny evenly spaced holes in my left calf did not really hurt or bleed much. And the beer probably helped.
I think the AP must have taken some of the shots because these were the only negatives I could find and they were in rough shape. Very little depth of grays.