the Sweet Smell of Burning Fur (plonq) wrote,
the Sweet Smell of Burning Fur

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Year In Pictures: 2010/01/13

The way out is through.

When you are creatively bankrupt just convert it to black and white, crank the shit out of the contrast and call it "arty". Ya, that's the ticket.

I am beginning to think that either my eyes are not straight, or the sensor in my camera is not 100% level. I have a horizontal and vertical grid in my viewfinder to help me line up the scene as I am shooting, but almost invariably it is just a bit off vertical (or horizontal, depending on the orientation of the camera) when I look at the picture later.

It's probably not the camera - I have always suspected that my brain is slightly tilted. It would explain a lot about me.

Also I haven't posted any dark, angsty poetry in a long time. For no good reason, here is a dark, angsty poem inspired by today's picture. I call it Meditating On A Bowl of Rotting Cherries.

The path before me starkly lies
a concrete tomb inviting.
And from the depths I hear the cries
of souls, lost and indicting.
O shall I take this lower road
of evil and despairs
or just eschew its siren goad
and take the fucking stairs?

I believe this is the part where I am supposed to cut myself for attention, except that I don't have a knife. All I have is ten thousand spoons. Isn't that ironic?
Tags: 2010yip
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