Recovered from the Wayback Machine.
Pretty tired today, and no, it has nothing to do with the peace party that happened in the comments to the last post. The participants worked things out for themselves, which is as it should be. I’m not sure what Happy Tutor is doing and where he’s taking it, but he’s a big boy and can handle burning material. Since he’s taken said burning material elsewhere, I am content.
I’m currently working on three articles for O’Reilly and some other promotional activity for the Practical RDF book. Additionally, I’ve been out virtually knocking on the doors of several local and national publications trying to re-awaken my moribund writing career. The end result of this activity is that I need to write. A lot. Knock a bit more, write a bit more, and repeat.
I also need to drop some of the bad writing habits I’ve picked up with weblog writing, such as the assumptions, the higher level of familiarity, the creative spelling and sentence construction, the use of ’so’, and the other quaint little short-cuts that fit this format, but not necessarily others.
So … I’m organizing my photos into online albums and am surprised at how many there are. Once finished, I need to select the best 50 for one portfolio, and then the best 20 of that number for another portfolio. However, when I think of my photos in something like a portfolio, my view of them changes and I become more critical of the work. It’s hard to explain but when you look at a photo one way, it can look good; but look at the photo from a different perspective – and I’m not talking the photo’s perspective – and it doesn’t quite work. At the rate I’m going, I’ll be lucky if I find five that work.
This phenomena happens with writing, too.
I’m planning a little trip South and along the Gulf in the nature of a combined vocational challenge/public interest jaunt. In September when the kiddies are in school, the weather cools, and the gas and motels are cheaper.
I don’t think I’ve posted the following photo previously. It’s the Chain of Rocks Bridge again, part of the old Route 66. I’m not saying the photo’s a portfolio member, but it’s cheerful, don’t you think? Imagine Nat King Cole singing in the background, and being in a convertible wearing a soft summer dress and iron maid bra, breeze blowing your hair in the warm, humid night. Get your kicks on Route 66.
