Calzone
Gear Whore #1
B,
Blues are great to eat when they are schoolies that are 5-6 pounds. In the Pin-Hooking days we would in March start the morning just inside the Fire Island Inlet bottom fish for Flounder, and then break off and troll 6-way umbrella rigs with wireline. With the Flounder I was a big fan of chumming and basically, the fish were directly under the boat.
I was always a fan of light tackle, and the way three of us fished was with a rod in each hand. In my left I used a baitcasting, and my right a spinning rig, so I would be ready at any time to set a hook, but at times I would have fish on both rods.
One day I set a hook on my spinning rod with 8-pound test, and the rod bent in half. The fish took line exceeding the drag setting, and a true battle began: man against fish. Somehow I hooked into a Blackfish that was about 6-7 pounds. At home I filleted and skinned him, I baked him with some fresh lemons, and the texture and taste was like a lobster without the shell.
Fresh Flounder and Fluke fillets I would make Sa-Vee-CHEE by soaking bite-sized chunks in fresh lime juice with sliced purple onions. With a shrimp cocktail sause on a Trish-KIT along with a non-alcoholic beer a mighty great snack.
Pretty much I could take home as much fish as I wanted, but most of the fish was sold by special arrangement to the restaurant in Kismet where Bob was allowed to have a slip to use as his own. Any proceeds from private sales paid for the gas, upkeep, and a new outboard motor every 2-3 years.
In the Great South Bay we were collectively known as the "Sharpies" in the written fishing reports in "The Fisherman." A typical weekend morning might involve catching 100-150 Flounder and then 150-200 Bluefish schoolies of 5-7 pounds.
One trick was to set lines deeper to increase the chance of catching Weakfish, a Sea Trout.
So my use of light tackle allowed me to use lighter weight sinkers for more sensitivity and feel. I also seemed to catch less weed with my lighter rigs.
I'm thinking of building a surf rod again, and also getting a saltwater fly rod. Trying to avoid sweetwater fish because of pollution. I'm pretty sure I could get invites once I get seen around to be on a boat again as a crew, but those early mornings and not being around will not maker "Maggie" happy.
Again my Cantonese heritage. I am a skinny bitch, but my arms are kinda oversized for a skinny guy mostly because of Tuna and Shark fishing. This is hard work, but then there is the danger and adventure...
Thanks for the insight about the Salmon. The Striped Bass follow the Herring run way upstate up the Hudson River. The trick is freshly caught Herring to land a Cow in the spring spawning. BTW even though Peekskill is 50 miles north of NYC the bay in Peekskill is brackish.
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
You are the one who has been hooked. What a crazy life, Asian growing up in a pure Quailoh town. Out here on the West Coast the Asians, Chinese especially, stay close to their culture. The Chinese always know who they are. You'll get a kick out of this, I worked with an EE /MBA, and he was of Japanese descent and married to a Cantonese woman. Yeah, OK, you see storm clouds. They had a son and the question started over "second language." And the wife, naturally wanted Cantonese while the husband wanted Japanese. Both born here but strong roots. The deadly remark by the husband was, "Other than ordering in restaurants just what the hell is Cantonese good for?" He was a funny guy and I am surprised he was not killed by his wife. I suspect the kid had two "second languages" which would have been excellent.
Portland is a two hour drive from Astoria and an eight or nine hour ship ride. I am not sure if it is brackish but the tide is felt, minimally, up there. I grew up on the East Coast, NJ and CT. It's a whole different world out here about pace, And immigrant food here is Asian and Mexican. All the Italians forgot how to make red gravy when they crossed the Rockies. If I want it I make it. Usually a carbonarra, red pesto or garlic and oil will do the trick. I love the garlic and oil. The French know how to cook, the Italians know how to eat. And good Jewish deli is just not happening. I go to Sherman's in Palm Springs. It's the real deal.
There is a Chinese saying to the effect that we fight to defend the flavors of our childhood. I miss Italian and Jewish but there is a Cantonese nearly as good as SF a half hour from me. They are from PRC and really nice folks. And Portland has a good dim sum joint. This is how good it is: grandma will wait outside on the sidewalk for a table and you know grandma is very fussy about yamcha. It is where I go for yamcha. We both know that yamcha is drop dead serious. It better be good and you better make it there, with the family. I love it and really love "share table?" The Chinese watch to see what I am eating and I do the same to them. And sometimes there is this, "Hey, try this, you'll like it." And I do. ;o) Most people are really friendly if given the opportunity, all over the world.
Cheers
PS - I know Ceviche. I lived in Mexico for a few years. The food is wonderful, not much like the restaurants here. Just like Chinese. Here you have to look for grandma on the sidewalk.
L8R
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
B,
Check out my gal's website at WWW.AccidentalIcon.com.
Here I call her "Maggie" so I can make fun of her a bit. She is a digital influencer who has over 750K followers. She is still on a GoDaddy commercial and is a GoDaddy girl.
Anyways I get dragged into her world kicking and screaming. Pretty my my style is extra sloppy. I wear clothes that are worn, dated and retro to the extent that they are out of fashion, but because of her I went Paul Smith crazy with British tailoring. When I get dressed up I don't recognize myself. A girl who had smokey eyes and was red hot at FIT (Fashion Institute of Technology) made the comment that I looked like an Asian version of James Bond.
This Saturday we will be meeting with Maggie's first agent. Things are looking that we will get "poached" and represented as a couple. If things happen I might have a new job and come out of retirement. Here on RFF I try to present myself as a self proclaimed lazy-slacker, but my reputation might get ruined if I get this gig. I kinda find this situation A-maze-ing.
Ideally I can see me being a rather serious fitness model. The long ponytail and arrogant chin beard also makes me look Japanese.
Pre Covid we got a free European cruise that started in the Netherlands, went through Germany, stopped in France, and ended in Basil Switzerland.
Another time we were invited to stay at some UBER luxury hotel that formally was a palace for some Dukes when they visited the King and Queen of Spain. We felt like Jay-Z and Beyonce, Mercedes limo, food that after eating required an emergency room visit to get a stent, and all this pra-Vill-age that included handlers and an entourage. Crazy stuff, but this is how I bought my Paul Smith tux on three day's notice because Maggie found out that we had a black tie event to attend to, and I learn all about this through an email while I'm at work.
The VIP treatment is really weird and odd. Standing on a line for an event she will get recognized and then we get escorted in. We can be in any city in the world and she will get recognized by a follower. Also people gush and revert to uncontrolled 5-year olds. As a joke I present myself as her on-tour-ROG. Kinda funny when one of her fans blurts out, "You are really short," when caught up in excitement.
Just trying to mind my own business, and I would not wish being a celeb on anyone.
Cal
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
I am writing this on a new IPAD that I ordered on December 22, 2021 that just got delivered today.
We live in an age of shortages for sure.
I will start working on www.Lazy-SlackerCalvin.com.
Cal
We live in an age of shortages for sure.
I will start working on www.Lazy-SlackerCalvin.com.
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
I am on my way out the door for medical tests. Nothing serious but demanding of my time. I'll catch up when I get back. Yes, I will bring a camera. This time no Leica, Sony.
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
Next week I get physical for term life insurance. For the past few years I have had high deductible medical insurance that allows me to set up a HSA (Health Spending Account), and because I figure I’m in good health with no underlying conditions I haven’t had a physical in a couple of years.
I ended up saving money for when I need cat-A-Rack surgery.
So next week I guess I’ll find out if this was smart or not.
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
Cal -
I am grateful on a daily basis for SSGT Anthony J. Pia and a black woman at the Palo Alto VA. Pia was my recruiting sergeant and I wound up on a dream post an hour south of Paris for two and one half years. After I got out I got six years of GI Bill and a grad degree at a toney school in Canada. The black lady would hound my ass when I was in her building in the PA VA. "Are you a veteran? Are you in the VA?" Finally to get her to stop I allowed her to process me into the VA. I have never had such good medical care in my life. Two shoulder replacements, one cost ~$300, the other ~$3. I get world class care, have had two wonderful primary care physicians who look after me very well. Actually, they spoil me rotten. I never got "civilian" care anywhere near this good and I worked for Pac@Bell and went to the Palo Alto Medical Foundation for medical care. I just persuaded an old HS buddy to get into the VA. He is still laughing about how well he is treated. The VA is wonderful and I have been in different ones coast to coast.
I had two cataract jobs done, smooth as silk, and I can read a gnat's poker hand from across the room now. You will love it when yours are done. It's great. And you can gaze upon that fine woman you are running around with. I just glanced at her pages but will go back. She looks fascinating and sounds smart. They have to be smart. You have to get out of the bed sometime.
I wish you and everybody had health care as good as mine. And I have been in the system since '99. They have never failed me, they are always cheerful and helpful. It's a dream. They always thank me for my service, two and one half years an hour from Paris.
Your woman is fascinating. We say "elegant" and the Germans say "Eleganten" which is an order of magnitude greater. She is Eleganten. Ask any German, Eleganten is better than First Class, and First Class in German is big time, too. You sound like you are now and have been having fun. That's the point, why not be happy?
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
B,
A Sargent Gara-B was on my tail for a while. I took the armed forces test and scored very highly, and because I was getting hounded so badly is one of the reasons I never signed up.
In High School I only took the PSAT’s, and I scored so high that at the age of 16 I was offered a Commission/full scholarship to the U.S. Coast Guard Academy, an Ivy League school you have to get invited to attend.
It was in college that I decided to pursue art, but I also knew I would need a day-job. My only technical education is only a six-month vocational school in analog and digital electronics, but I have a visual arts degree, a Masters in Communications, and a MFA in Creative Writing. I calculate that the last of my school loans will be paid off when I’m 72.
At Grumman I got an education you couldn’t get in a grad school. I started fixing big machine tool controls that built aircraft in factories 1/8 mile wide and 1/4 mile long as my first job. Next I became a Technical Writer on Naval Aircraft Weapon Systems, then eventually I moved into research and began a long tenure working one-on one which PhD scientists playing around with millions of dollars worth of gear that was paid for by taxpayers.
The Veteran Preference at Grumman assured that I mostly worked with many veterans, who helped by being fatherly figures who nurtured and spoiled a rather disturbed and smart kid. It was evident I was really smart, but I was kinda wild and feral. I was an angry guy and hyper aggressive back then.
Genetically I am a hybrid from an illiterate immigrant who’s father was executed in China because he murdered a loan shark who burnt down his business (store), yet my mother was an educated woman during a time that suggests that she came from a wealthy and politically connected family that enjoyed affluence.
I am a genetically part criminal and part bankster I figure. Also know that my mom was stunning looking, and pretty much I’m prettier than my sister who is beautiful. Out of five kids I’m the pick of the litter.
Kinda funny but parents learn to love the kid they worry about the most, and in my case my dad should of hated me instead of loving me the most.
Kinda funny how when I was a Technical Writer at Grumman how the women had this signal of dropping their pens which was a code that I eventually figured out that I was walking to the bathroom. Pretty much I was looked at like a runway model.
Then again women love the bad boys, and I came across as kinda evil. Some girls dated me just to upset their fathers because of my looks, my race, my long hair and possibly the worst thing is that I was an artist. LOL.
So I find it fascinating that here I am at 64 and I might get gigs on a real runway. BTW Vanessa is based in London and likely the gigs would be in Europe.
Because I’m a cyclist who use to race (got my ass kicked and developed a high threshold of pain) I have a rather muscular butt. I also have that Lawn-Guy-Land big hair thing to play with.
Steve Buscemi’s house was the next house up the block after our next-door neighbor. Like Steve, I figure, I’m a funny looking guy who you would remember. Steve is a year older than me, and a grade ahead.
When Ronald Ray-Gun was President, I went on a field assignment when working at Grumman to work at Los Alamos on a secret project that as a Neutral Partical Beam Accelerator that would become a space based weapon to shoot down ICBM’s in their boost phase before they vaporize us.
I pretty much lived in a two bedroom log cabin 47 miles from civilization. The location was so remote that I had no TV reception. I lived in the Santa Fe National Forest. A Jeep and 4-wheel drive was required to get up my driveway, and 80 mailboxes on Highway 4 marked a community known as La Cueva.
In the 70’s I was a NYC cab driver. For me it was a way to release aggression and rage. Of course I worked nights because that was the most dangerous, and at that time being a cab driver was considered more dangerous than being a cop or fireman. I ended up scaring a guy who got into my cab with the intent of us going to the Bronx and him robbing me.
There was $2.75 on the meter when he changed his mind, but it did not matter if he was going to rob me of $2.75 or all my money, because in my mind it would be an episode of “Gladiator” because it was clear to me it would be a fight of life or death.
So I have had a remarkable life. I’m not so crazy now, but pretty much I gave good reason for people to be scared of me. I don’t know why I’m not dead by now because I trend towards risk and adventure.
Likely to blame is my Cantonese ancestry. Before 1972-73 95% of the Chinese I reported were all of Cantonese descent. We have a culture of adventure and exploration, and like most people from mountainous areas we are sturdy.
Tomorrow we head into the city to meet-up with Vanessa, “Maggie’s” first agent, to see if Maggie gets poached. It was Vanessa’s idea to include me BTW. Maggie mentioned that she was “Taken a back” in our first meeting years ago.
Let’s see…
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
You have had a long and exciting life and it seems you spent no time in it doing knitting. ;o) I can claim nothing so exciting other than a long period of unprosecuted felonies. I think there is a statute of limitations on them but I am not taking any chances. Mum's the word. I am glad I was never caught.
The cost of education in this country is a crime. My grad school in the mid-70's was ~US$1,500 a year. The university was private but their shortfall was always made up by the provincial government. I believe it is still ~US$1,500. Their law, medical and engineering schools are top notch. My discipline, History, was also handled well. In my second year when they handed out scholarship aid to the grad students, everybody got aid but me. They ran out and I got none. OK, an American, veteran I was not too hurt or surprised. Then they called me aside and apologized for running out of money and said they were giving me a half teaching assistanceship with no duties. Got my tuition paid for and walking around money, too. They always treated me with the utmost kindness, respect and decency. What would you expect from a nation whose motto is, "Peace, Order and Good Government"? To this day I have no idea why the accepted me or why they awarded me a very tardy degree. I've just been a very lucky guy. My research paper, some 90 pages, was accepted by an independent reader without remark, correction or comment other than "Very good." That caught my advisor off-guard and he asked for another copy. He must have thrown away the first one. LMAO
I hope that your meetup with your GF and agent goes wonderfully well tomorrow, and for both of you. You might just be the next hot thing on the runway. And remember to "Always wear a camera." LOL
Keep me posted.
Cheers
The cost of education in this country is a crime. My grad school in the mid-70's was ~US$1,500 a year. The university was private but their shortfall was always made up by the provincial government. I believe it is still ~US$1,500. Their law, medical and engineering schools are top notch. My discipline, History, was also handled well. In my second year when they handed out scholarship aid to the grad students, everybody got aid but me. They ran out and I got none. OK, an American, veteran I was not too hurt or surprised. Then they called me aside and apologized for running out of money and said they were giving me a half teaching assistanceship with no duties. Got my tuition paid for and walking around money, too. They always treated me with the utmost kindness, respect and decency. What would you expect from a nation whose motto is, "Peace, Order and Good Government"? To this day I have no idea why the accepted me or why they awarded me a very tardy degree. I've just been a very lucky guy. My research paper, some 90 pages, was accepted by an independent reader without remark, correction or comment other than "Very good." That caught my advisor off-guard and he asked for another copy. He must have thrown away the first one. LMAO
I hope that your meetup with your GF and agent goes wonderfully well tomorrow, and for both of you. You might just be the next hot thing on the runway. And remember to "Always wear a camera." LOL
Keep me posted.
Cheers
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
B,
In my younger days I could always outrun any cop. Been chased a few times.
On some crimes like tax E-VEY-sion my accountant has told me many times that there is no statue of limitations.
Anyways us bad boys got away with a lot. Kinda funny how my landlord of the loft I rented in Williamsburg called me, “A scary guy.” When I asked for the return of my security deposit he assured me it would happen right away. That’s when he called me a scary guy.
Devil Christian and Snarky Joe say that I draw out the crazies of NYC. “It takes one to know one,” I say.
Also huge bouncers when I was young were scared of me, all 135 pounds of me. Even at less than 147 pounds I would be a welterweight, but I’m likely now around 140 or a heavy lightweight. “I don’t want any trouble,” they would say because of my size pretty much I was like a kinetic weapon that could take out a 50 ton tank.
Another funny story is that somehow Steve Marshall, a guitar player, called me because somehow he found out that I had a high-end Mini DV camera.
He explained that his claim to fame was that he would recruit go-go girls from the audience to join the band onstage, and on one particular night he happen to choose two rather hot girls who happen to be strippers. When they welcomed the selected girls they played some stripper music and the girls started to work the crowd and strip. Pretty much he almost got arrested.
His band had two gigs: one was a yuppie social on 57th street at one high end club; the second was at a biker dive bar in East Harlem called Hogs And Heffers. Steve Marshall wanted me to video the gigs.
”How did get my number? Do I know you?” I asked, but evidently a horn player from another band knew me and gave Steve Marshall my number.
”Maggie” was not happy that I accepted the paying gig. She wanted me to try and get a cab in East Harlem 15 years or so ago, in a time that no cab would pick up any passenger in East Harlem three o’clock in the morning. I would have to take the subway…
I told “Maggie” that no one would attack me, and that I would be carrying a heavy Monfrotto monopod that collapsed was the thickness and length of a cop’s nightstick. I would be carrying this weapon in plain sight, and I promised that if there was any hassles I would have no problem reverting to 1970’s behavior and hospitalize someone but good.
The Hog’s and Heffers gig was more fun. The barmaids danced on the bar to the music. There was this moose head over the bar that was decorated with women’s bras. Evidently it was local culture there for women to get drunk and strip off their bras and the moose displayed the trophies.
So I take the train to Union Square and get on the “L” train to head to Brooklyn. The subway car had two other guys and we all kept our distance. It’s about 4 PM at this point. I lived in Greenpoint, but the 3rd stop was a walking distance to the eastern end of Greenpoint from the Italian section of Williamsburg.
At that time a serial rapist was running around that particular section of Williamsburg and that part of Greenpoint. He had attack many white hipster girls in their doorways and also robbed them.
On that night I wore my hair down, I wore green snakeskin cowboy shoes that had heels that clanked like a woman’s heels, I had a camera bag, and wore a short leather jacket. Don’t forget I have a muscular butt from cycling and racing…
So just after I get out of the subway, I’m about a block out on this wide street and I hear someone running to catch up with me. It was raining and I had a small Totes umbrella, and I got the monopod cocked, yet hidden right in front of me.
I kinda knew I was being mistaken for a rather tall hot girl with a killer butt, and that the guy pursuing me had a very high probability of being the serial rapist.
So at the appropriate time I turned and swung for the fences to take someone’s head off. Clear to me I was in danger of getting jumped, I flipped the switch and knew enough that if one blow did not take him out that I would follow through and make sure the person was incapacitated, crippled or unconscious.
So to our surprise my attacker was short, and my swing missed his face and went right over his head. I saw his face, and his likely shock when he noticed my arrogant chin beard. He said, “Sorry,” and kept running rounding the first corner.
About a month later the NYPD caught this guy. Evidently he grew up in the nearby projects and knew the neighborhood well, but he no longer lived there.
Anyways, I’ve done a lot of things you are not suppose to do.
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
Cal -
We are both lucky to have made it to an age where we can collect social security. I put myself in dangerous situations that I could not fight my way out of but always was able to BS my way out of. Now I am as law-abiding as a church deacon.
You remind me in some ways of a fourth generation I used to work with at P@B San Ramon. Most likely Cantonese but named Sean. And a bike nut. He and the other bike nuts would get in their Pearl Izumis and bike like fiends on their lunch hours. You know how competitive those work peletons can get. The funny part was that he was as brown as a nut. I mean really tan. And I always thought of the LOL's fresh from HK with their caps and hand covers to keep their skins pale. Yeah, Sean was really assimilated and one hot shot tech programmer. Weird, mind bending code was effortless for him. He was part of the elite core of tech programmers. Another was a Mexican guy who was sharp as hell, too. He's take a week or so to visit his brother who was picking vegetables. They'd hang out and drink long necks. He and another Mexican tech programmer were always kind enough to cut me in on the Christmas tamale legacy. I didn't share them with my wife. ;o)
So much of my life is happy memories. I have my share of mistakes, some colossal, but mostly in the minority. If life were fair, I'd be dead.
And now I get to hang out here, chat with some interesting folks and see scenes from all over the world which hopefully will teach me how to better photograph what is going on around me. I'm a really lucky guy.
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
B,
Never thought I would live this long. Although I was not in the military I had PTSD. Growing up was dangerous for me, I stood out, and I was a target. I had enough experience fighting.
When I first met “Maggie” over 20 years ago she learned never to come up from behind me because I would have a violent startle reflex. I came close to punching her many times. She would announce, “I’m coming in the room now, please don’t kill me.” The carpeted floors muffled her footsteps, and we agreed that carpets were dangerous.
In the past someone on an empty Subway platform came from behind and tapped me on the shoulder. My reflex was to turning around and throwing a right. A teenager was laying on the ground, and he asked, “Why did you hit me?”
He just wanted to know if we were on the side heading towards Manhattan.
One day at work I get a call, and I had to leave because my step-daughter was in a fight. I am told that today that about half of the fights are between girls. I did not have to inquire about why the fight happened because I already knew part of it was racism, part of it was because we rented and did not own a house, and the girl who was involved in the fight formally was a friend that turned on her.
When I asked what happened, evidently it was group and peer pressure that lead to bullying that we now know is commonplace in today’s culture in schools.
My ex-wife was a trophy, a Latina who was not fluent in English to compound things. Also know that Daniella was always a timid gentile child.
Daniella had a huge black eye. She kept on backing up but eventually she got clocked by a roundhouse. The first thing I taught her was never back up in a fight. Move sideways or better yet forward. The point being is that you loose all your power in your upper body when moving backwards. Standard boxing technics.
Then I taught her to jab with the left as a defensive move, I showed her how throwing straight punches was more accurate than slow roundhouses, and because they were faster more effective in hitting their target.
Then I taught her how to step into a punch for power…
We practiced… BTW Daniella was in perhaps 7th grade.
The very next day I get called at work again because there was another fight. Evidently further bullying went on in a class that this ex-friend and Daniella had that lead up to the treat, “Do you want another black eye?”
Daniella only threw one punch, and she opened up the girl’s eye that required 7 stitches.
At the principal’s office, I put on the required show, but in the car again I asked what happened. Then I taught the most important lessen which is to avoid a fight whenever possible, but when you do have to fight you really have to hurt the other person, and never give them the chance to recover, getup, and eventually win the fight.
I confirmed that she did the right thing, but next time try to use a little restraint.
So I was expecting to get sued. Don’t know if the 7 stitches would lead to any scarring, but my wish is for that girl to have a reminder.
I have narrow shoulders, but extra long arms. The “circle” I fight uses full extension for leverage. Also even though I consider myself an endurance athlete, I genetically have fast twitch muscles for speed and strength. In high school I was one f the fastest on my feet, so speed and physics are on my side.
In boxing with 16-ounce gloves I would spar with my friends, some older, and all bigger than me. There problem was trying to hit me. I am bow-legged due to Rickets and malnutricion, but bow-legged people are hyper agile and can change direction rapidly to outflank an opponent.
I learned that martial artists don’t like fighting western boxers for basically three reasons: boxers have more upper body strength and are trained to exploit that; hands and arms are faster than feet or legs; and most of all that boxers are use to getting hit hard.
My friends would throw a punch, miss, and then get tagged with a left and a right. All this would happen in a blink of an eye, and there is no way to defend from such an assault that involves such speed.
Then there is the accuracy of a offensive jab that sets up for the deadly right…
My younger brother had a scab on the bridge of his nose right in between his eyes, and I asked him how that happened. He was riding his bike and got hit by a lit cigarette thrown from a passing car.
”A freak accident,” was my response, “But no,” said my little brother, “It was done on purpose. They laughed.”
All I can say is that rage is a conditioned response, and dangers were real, but my greatest fear growing up was killing someone, because I know I can do it.
One day boxing in Danny’s backyard, I was going to box with Billy my best friend who was a year older than me. Billy was German and 6’2” and a fully developed man, and I was still a scrawny kid with my boyish body. The first round was just sparring, but in the second round the first punch thrown by Billy split my lip, then my instinct and reflexes stepped in.
A left jab, followed by my deadly right. Billy’s brain bounced off the back of his scull and he was blacking out. His arms fell to his sides, he was falling forward, as I stepped forward to finish him off with an uppercut.
So all this happened in a blink of an eye, without any thinking, and was like a reflex, but somehow I turned to divert the uppercut that would of caused serious brain damage.
There are things you can control, and there are things that you can’t. I learned a lesson, and I knew that things can get carried away too fast and it is really not so hard to kill someone because it can happen so fast. In my case literally in a blink of an eye.
Anyways, rage can be a source of power, but it is very hard to control.
I lost contact with my little brother, and one day out of the blue he E-mailed me. One of the first questions I asked, “Did you kill anyone yet?” “No. I have not killed anyone yet,” was his response.
What is understood between us that we are fully automatic guns loaded with the safety off because of the conditioning we received during the Vietnam era growing up as little kids.
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
Your last sentence says it all.
I had never stopped to think of the grief that Asians here would be getting because of the Vietnam War. As may be obvious, I live in the protected WASP bubble. I served in a half black - half white outfit that was about 95% Southern so I got a glimpse of a whole different world than what I grew up in. I did grow up in a segregated town about an hour from Times Square. I never had any idea of what life was like on the other side of the line nor the suffering that was day-to-day life. The Army was a great school for me. I mingled with Americans entirely different from me and did it in France with folks who were also entirely different from me.
Foreigners were common to me, my grandparents were from Berlin, spoke German around the house, loved America but never lost sight of who they were. The house was very German. My grandmother did not write in the Roman alphabet but a slightly modified version of the German Altschrifft. I could read it because that was how grandma wrote. My mother and my two aunts were German fluent and all the grandchildren learned German in school. It never occurred to us to take French or Spanish. Why would we do that? LOL I did learn some French in the service and took a couple of years of it in college. I still get by in France but when I was in grad school my French was not what was common where I was living. My French was derided as "School French" or "Paris French."
But no fights. Gratefully I was never in a situation which required that. I did put myself in harm's way back in the days of felonies but somehow was never robbed and/or beaten. I've been a very lucky guy and still am.
And now we have a pair of burned-out semi-hoodlums passing time like gentlemen with pricey cameras. Maybe a silk purse can be fashioned out of a sow's ear. At my age I am thrilled to wake up in the morning. And my dog though a real pain in the ass, it is the breed, all Schipperkes are difficult, is a great little guy and good company. I keep up with folks, try to learn where to point the camera and when and to have fun doing it. My biggest problem right now is how fast and how much money do I want to spend and how much do I want to leave behind for dear friends who have far less than I. Currently they are winning. But that could all change in an instant. LMAO
Good luck with your runway career. We are both blessed to have had our pasts and survived them and to now to be able to enjoy life comfortably. I'll not sneak up behind you.
Cheers
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
Going downtown below 14th Street yesterday was the first time in years since the Pandemic. We are three years into social distancing and isolation, but I experienced the area south of Houston near Lorelie’s more run down as if it had gone back decades. Lots of street art, graph-feet-T, litter and more filth than normal and not so sanitized and processed.
Did a flurry of shooting, and it seems the filthy gritty, dirty city I remembered is back of perhaps the 80’s.
Our meeting was at the Public Hotel.
It was New York Fashion Week, and both “Maggie” and I were glad that we were not part of that exhausting running around and chaos that involves a frenzied of locations and wardrobe changes.
We were initially met by an operations manager and an assistant, Vanessa was running late by about an hour. We socialized over drinks.
With Vanessa’s arrival, I just kinda laid low, “minding my own business,” as a business plan was discussed about including me into marketing and representing Maggie and me as a couple.
When things got directed more about me, I was asked to take my hair out of it’s ponytail. I had no brush and excused myself because the hair epoxy I used to “spackle” control into my feral hair that has not been cut professionally in about 4 years but was self-cut by me about a year ago when I got spray foam insulation in my hair from working in a crawl space in my Baby-Victorian.
So the drama queen in me made feel like I was on a fashion runway and doing a reveal. An exaggeration would be like a male stripper exposing his cut torso. Then I learned a term O-S-P (One-Selling-Point) for a marketable asset.
Anyways I found out that even me being a 64 year old man with a boy body is a O-S-P, and that I had many such novel assets.
So looks like in about two-weeks we should get a contract to review, Maggie will be getting poached, I’ll be joining in, and the 9-10 month phase out process will begin from Maggie’s current agent.
One outcome is that we somewhat have to lay-low, so I can’t start LazySlackerCalvin as a lifestyle blog/magazine.
So I tried to retire, but it looks like I have a new career starting. Know that Maggie’s current agent is American, but Vanessa’s agency is based in London and is more international in scope. Also the Instagram treadmill will be avoided and downplayed. The objective are a few big gigs instead of many small ones, and selection will be rather elite and exclusive.
So again I can say, “I was just minding my own business…” and then something surprising happens to me. I was laughing last night at the circumstance of the “sich-E-A-Tion.” Why does this stuff happen to me? Again and again I loose control of my life. “Snookered” again…
Cal
Did a flurry of shooting, and it seems the filthy gritty, dirty city I remembered is back of perhaps the 80’s.
Our meeting was at the Public Hotel.
It was New York Fashion Week, and both “Maggie” and I were glad that we were not part of that exhausting running around and chaos that involves a frenzied of locations and wardrobe changes.
We were initially met by an operations manager and an assistant, Vanessa was running late by about an hour. We socialized over drinks.
With Vanessa’s arrival, I just kinda laid low, “minding my own business,” as a business plan was discussed about including me into marketing and representing Maggie and me as a couple.
When things got directed more about me, I was asked to take my hair out of it’s ponytail. I had no brush and excused myself because the hair epoxy I used to “spackle” control into my feral hair that has not been cut professionally in about 4 years but was self-cut by me about a year ago when I got spray foam insulation in my hair from working in a crawl space in my Baby-Victorian.
So the drama queen in me made feel like I was on a fashion runway and doing a reveal. An exaggeration would be like a male stripper exposing his cut torso. Then I learned a term O-S-P (One-Selling-Point) for a marketable asset.
Anyways I found out that even me being a 64 year old man with a boy body is a O-S-P, and that I had many such novel assets.
So looks like in about two-weeks we should get a contract to review, Maggie will be getting poached, I’ll be joining in, and the 9-10 month phase out process will begin from Maggie’s current agent.
One outcome is that we somewhat have to lay-low, so I can’t start LazySlackerCalvin as a lifestyle blog/magazine.
So I tried to retire, but it looks like I have a new career starting. Know that Maggie’s current agent is American, but Vanessa’s agency is based in London and is more international in scope. Also the Instagram treadmill will be avoided and downplayed. The objective are a few big gigs instead of many small ones, and selection will be rather elite and exclusive.
So again I can say, “I was just minding my own business…” and then something surprising happens to me. I was laughing last night at the circumstance of the “sich-E-A-Tion.” Why does this stuff happen to me? Again and again I loose control of my life. “Snookered” again…
Cal
MrFujicaman
Well-known
We won't be happy unless you get an ad contract for Leica!
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
MFM,
Already was in a paid focus group to help develop the SL2. It was painful awaiting many years for the camera I helped design to come to be so I could purchase one.
A big deal in this new gig is a lot of free travel, free clothes, free shoes, all to the extent I might have to buy a bigger house, which is not what I want to do. The amount of cardboard from stuff that gets delivered is crazy alone, and there is no way one can use all these clothes, shoes, bags…
The tiny house already is kinda full.
Anyways I’ll take a “Free” SL2S, a Leica Q2, a Leica Q2 Monochrom, and a M11.
Already been accused of being a “Rich Dentist” and a Leica fan boy by entitled youth who have Leica envy.
Anyways I retire and life gets crazy. Not what I expected… While this is very amusing and laughable, it is also dreamlike and very unreal. It is an odd and uncomfortable space.
I started rowing in the cold unheated enclosed front porch. I feel obligated to get more fit and into “model-condition.” Perhaps I don’t want to embarrass myself…
Kinda funny how a dream gig comes along when you don’t need it.
”I’m just an odd looking guy: a 64 year old man with a kid’s body, who might be considered a pretty-boy.
Also interesting how I say, “Artists by definition are X-HIB-bish-on-ists,” and how having been a performance artist for about a decade are merging into this new identity.
Cal
MrFujicaman
Well-known
Buy LARGE storage tubs for the garage attic!
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
MFM,
The garage storage is to increase workspace that for me will be “living space” where I intend to have my 27” EIZO, a printing workstation, and for print storage. I like a darkroom for digital printing because it prevents excessive use of contrast. The garage will be heated and have HVAC via a Mitsubishi heat pump. The garage attic will have its own zone.
I know that a lot of the stuff in the basement will actually go to buildout my studio, like the 300B tube stereo that is a whopping 8 watts of single ended triode bliss. Then there are CD’s, and a start of a vinyl collection. I have my music gear and all those vintage amps, then there are the bass guitars and the electric upright…
The basement already has two 58 gallon totes of shoes and boots. I also have my vintage t-shirt collection already stored there. I guess there likely will be more space in the basement, but the house is small. The footprint of the foundation is only 26x26 feet.
Don’t tell the government, but I will likely have to rent a space and have a pop-up sale to downsize. I’ll have to market this excess inventory.
Today I tried on the red sequenced lab coat from Beyoncé’s Ivy Park collection marketed under ADDIDAS. The size is a woman’s extra-small, but because it has an oversized cut and because I am a skinny bitch it is well tailored for me. The look though is over the top, even for me.
Anyways I will have a stylist, and a brief will direct crews and professionals how to dress and handle me. Instead of being the photographer, I will be the talent. Very different. Not this week but in the next “Maggie” has a shoot, and she wants me to go with her to experience the full treatment. At her present level the crews are really huge. I’ve been on other shoots before, but not at her new level.
Glad that the workload will be big gigs that pay very well so life does not get too frenzied. Anyways I realize that I am not a conventional male model, too small, too skinny, and not the right profile, but pretty much that is my advantage.
I learned from “Maggie” if you want to stand out, don’t be like everyone else. Vanessa evidently see’s something in me and my untypical assets.
Cal
boojum
Ignoble Miscreant
Go big or stay home. ;o)
Calzone
Gear Whore #1
B,
How true. Instagram is a trap of sorts. It has evolved to where one gets snared into having to engage all the time to stay on top. It is not sustainable.
This photographer I met named Brian lived in New Jersey, but had an address in the photo district. The office was complete mess full of fast food wrappers and garbage like a crash pad. I would later learn that this was all a “front” so he would and get some rather serious gigs.
He showed me some of his work, and the most memorable was a rather iconic shot of Prince performing live at a big venue. Evidently somehow he got invited backstage…
I inquired about his gear, and he used a manual focus lens on a Nikon DSLR. When I inquired how he nailed the focus he said he would rack the focus slightly while shooting in continuois. So he relied on spray and pray, but because of the opportunity I could understand that this was a smart and justifiable technic.
You had to take Brian seriously because he had the big gigs…
Then I asked for some wisdom and advice, he said, “The best thing I could do is refuse work and not be bothered by small and low paying jobs.” Pretty much he said that is a race to the bottom.
He also told me to lie and say, “I’m too busy and all booked up, so I don’t have the time to take on more work.” He said this is the best way to enhance your reputation, and the best way to refuse work and small jobs.
Anyways I got the smut and insider information that was like a free graduate education in marketing. It’s all about supply demand and perceived value.
In the past we got offered use of a luxury SUV to use on a shoot for a weekend. The fee was not a lot, especially since this came from an established firm on Madison Avenue and I kinda knew they had deep pockets and that the fee for the Madison Avenue firm was likely many six figures if not more. Then this was an international maker of cars, trucks, and buses who also had mucho money. The low fee I knew to take as insult, but many others would have taken the job for no money.
Then there was the legal disclosure of where I would be responsible for a new $100K luxury vehicle in Manhattan for a weekend. This was a very bad deal.
So having a good agent makes sure you get your due. If the agent is good, the fee is worth it, but many agents are just parasites who do little to promote a career and do the legwork to promote you as an exclusive brand.
Anyways all this is very fraught, and mistakes can lead to ruin. I cut my teeth over the past 6-7 years so I’m prepared for the big-time, but I don’t want to make the mistake of loosing my humility or going the route of living large.
When we got invited to go to Mad-Rid, (New Mexico slang for Madrid), Spain to stay a few blocks from the 375 room palace built for the King and Queen, in The Palace For The Dukes everything was over-the-top luxury. A Mercedes’ limo picked us up at the airport. We had guides, handlers, an ontourage, and all these privileged invitations and events.
Basically I know what it is like to be Jay-Z and Beyoncé. At the Prada there was a massive crowd and huge lines for a Vasquez retrospective, no line for us. We were directed to go to the Biblioteca National, but found that it was closed to the public and was shoo’ed away by a security guard, we started to walk away, and this woman comes running asking if we are “Calzone” and “Maggie.”
Then we were given a riveted guided tour and shown many of Spain’s National Treasures.
Then there was all the food so rich that you almost needed to get a visit to the emergency room to get a stent. Pretty easy to fall into the living large trap. A nice experience, but does this make me happy?
Anyways for me I like, enjoy and love shooting and printing more, and on a level of personal challenge. I look also upon my responsibility for my health to enjoy the possible longevity that was gifted to me. I’m already very happy and satisfied with my accomplishments. I escaped poverty, which is not easy to do.
I live in a world without cake, soda or alcohol…
At a certain point what does money mean? I look at someone like Jeff Bezos rather harshly. A man with power who accounts to nothing in my book. I do this New York Meet-Up thread as a Public Service to create a sense of community and to create a “safe-place” for us camera nerds. I feel I actually do more than Jeff Bezos to create a better world.
It is said that economically we are in a second age of “Robber Barons.” Bill Gates for a very long time did no philanthropy and just hoarded his wealth, now like Andrew Carnagie, he is trying to buy his stairway to heaven.
Sza-Sza Gabor one said, “No rich man is ugly,” and Bill Gates with the news of his scandels and divorce I cite as a good example. All that money and really not a happy man, or perhaps not a real man at all. What an ugly man. LOL.
So another rant…
Cal