THE LAUGHING HEART by Charles Bukowski

your life is your life

don’t let it be clubbed into dank submission.

be on the watch.

there are ways out.

there is a light somewhere.

it may not be much light but

it beats the darkness.

be on the watch.

the gods will offer you chances.

know them.

take them.

you can’t beat death but

you can beat death in life, sometimes.

and the more often you learn to do it,

the more light there will be.

your life is your life.

know it while you have it.

you are marvelous

the gods wait to delight

in you.

WAKING LIFE QUOTE

There are two kinds of sufferers in this world: those who suffer from a lack of life, and those who suffer from an over-abundance of life. I have always found myself in the second category. When you come to think of it, almost all human behavior and activity is not, essentially, any different from animal behavior. The most advanced technologies and craftsmanship bring us, at best, up to the super-chimpanzee level. Actually, the gap between, say, Plato or Nietzsche, and the average human is greater than the gap between that chimpanzee and the average human. The realm of the real spirit, the true artist, the saint, the philosopher, is rarely achieved. Why so few? Why is world history and evolution not stories of progress, rather this endless and futile addition of zeros? No greater values have developed. Hell, the Greeks 3,000 years ago were just as advanced as we are. So what are these barriers that keep people from reaching anywhere near their real potential. The answer to that can be found in another question, and that's this: which is the most universal human characteristic: fear or laziness?

THE SUN SETS ON SAUVIE ISLAND

After almost 5 years living on a floating home on Sauvie Island in Portland, Oregon, the sun is setting on this chapter of my life. It has been a very readable chapter. I have no regrets. I came to this place as an educator looking for a challenge and leave as an artist with a burning desire to make this world a better place. I came here at the urging of my soul; I leave in the same vein. My Portland experience was the first time in my life where I felt I belonged in a place, where I felt I was home. I will miss this home. I will miss the roots I grew here. Maya Angelou once wrote, "There is no agony like bearing an untold story within you". Recognizing that truth, I leave this special place to allow my life to continue writing. 

THE POWER OF A PICTURE (OR 6)

A friend of mine and excellent photographer, Patrick Cavan Brown, suggested I try a new method of indoor photography as I began preparing to sell my floating home here in Portland. The method involves taking 6 or so vertical shots across the entire length of the room and merging them in Photoshop. It also involves hiding behind couches and popping fill flash into the shot. In the end you get a fantastic picture with coverage you can't get from any one lens. One error I made in the above shot was that I forgot to zoom my wide angle lens in from 17mm, thus creating the distortion in the ceiling (though people think that my house has costly curved lines). The result of my photo shoot has been an overwhelming response to my house that has only been on the market 4 days. People love the photos. It really does pay to have someone who knows what they're doing shoot your house to expedite its sale, or at the very least, someone who is a quick learner.

TO ZOOM OR NOT TO ZOOM

If I had my choice, I'd shoot all human subjects at 16mm. I like being up close and personal, to form a bond, however briefly, with the people I shoot. Shooting inches away from peoples faces is uncomfortable at first (mostly for them), but it usually causes laughter, which I've found to be the best trick in establishing a quick trusting rapport. The picture below, taken in Burma, was shot at 16mm about a foot from this beautiful woman's face. After her initial laughter she relaxed, her kids forgot about my camera, and her immense dignity rose to the surface. For wide-angle shooting, it doesn't get much better than countries like Burma and India. Some people however will never feel comfortable with a camera pointed at their face. I've particularly noticed this in countries like Japan and Peru. I learned quickly in Peru that if I wanted to capture people acting naturally I would have to be sneaky and use my zoom lens. I spotted the man above from across the street in downtown Lima and badly wanted to take his photo.  I hid behind a news stand, and using my 105mm lens made the above shot. After about the 4th shot he noticed me and walked off.  

STICKS AND STONES MAY BREAK MY CAMERA...

As a general rule, Peruvians don't like to have their photos taken. They believe the camera steals their souls. It is important for a photographer to respect that belief. The only thing is, for about one dollar, the camera ceases to steal souls, and generates one hell of a phony grin from the subject, and in turn a rather lousy staged photo. The word in Spanish is "propina" or tip, and I heard it more times than I care to recall. If you don't pay your subject a "propina", you inadvertently turn on the soul sucking power of your camera, and you had better watch out. I myself paid people for their time when they seemed clearly to be in need. At other times I refused to play this ridiculous game, but not without consequence. In each of pictures posted above something was hurled in my direction.  From top to bottom: a bag of nuts, a sombrero, a handful of rocks. Not pictured here are an empty bottle, a cane, and a drunken man on a horse who chased my taxi out of town. I met many great people on my trip, unfortunately I think tourism has spoiled a handful of Peru's most visited cities.  

PERUVIAN BLANKET SMUGGLING BUS

I just got back from a ten day trip to Peru.  During the trip I took a 9 hour bus ride from Puno to Cuzco on the Libertad bus line (in English the "Freedom" line). At the beginning of the journey a local woman handed out blankets for everyone to sit on, except for the two gringos onboard (myself and my traveling partner). At the time I thought it rather rude to exclude the only foreigners with the cohones to ride the bus of the locals. Turns out those blankets were illegal undocumented blankets on which the proper taxes had not been paid. A raid by the police confiscated about half of them. As for the other half, the co-conspirators were able to convince the authorities that they were their own personal blankets. This is the type of excitment you only get when you pay less than $5.00 for a 9 hour bus ride.