digihater
Newbie
This is probably going to be inconsistent, contradictory and full of rambling but there you go.
I am now 49 and I have a love of everything Black and White, I love old pictures and really old films, I will sit and watch the old B&W films till my eyes droop and I fall asleep, but I can't sand colour films, they bore me, I don't know why, they just do, it's like they have no character or story to them, they seem to have no character or life in them.
I sit an I watch the old war films, or I walk down the road and I look at an elderly person and my mind wanders to their youth, and what they went through in it, did this person or that person serve in the armed forces or in intelligence, how much suffering did they have or feel, are they one of the many who was never rewarded a medal because they couldn't be named, where they tortured by the enemy and I someotimes look at the world and think how cruel it is as well as we are to each other, look at that poor old man shambling in the street eyes dead and no aim in where he is going, looking like he has nothing left and no one to go too, no one who visits him or cares if he is ok, they see nothing more than a dirty rambling old man and they mock him my eyes peel the years away from his face and gait and I see a proud man, or woman even, standing straight and rigid wearing a uniform, young with life in their face and their eyes sparkling, and so much pride, or with the love of their life long past away or sitting in a cold home that they can't afford to heat or buy food to keep warm, and inside I cry for them, for their dreams and pains over the years, I ask why no one cares for them anymore, I wonder if I asked them if I took their picture and offered them a couple of pound for doing so even just to help them along a little if they would be insulted, and so I don't.
I walk into old public houses or peoples homes and I see on the mantlepieces or walls old faded and yellowing pictures of people from yesteryear, many who have past away yet those still living yearn for them back or will sit and cry at night some thirty,fourty or fifty years later because they still miss and love them, those who are "missing" and whom others want to come home, too just walk through the door so desperately, I sat and watched my wifes grandfather Alf who served in HMS navy in WW2 and has never shown any sign of weakness sit and cry because he missed his wife who passed away some 20 years ago and I flet his pain but at the same time I felt so helpless and couild do nothing but sit and feel a lump the size of a brick in my throat, he went through 2 sinkings from torpedo and many other things as many did and yet, it meant nothing to him as much as she did.
I don't just look at this one war, but all of them and people of all nations, and I feel a pain inside at the loss of all sides and those who still don't know where loved ones are or what occured to them. I wonder if I am mad sometimes or mentally impaired because I feel such things.
I walk down the road and I remember the old man in the news who used to wander round the streets of london for many many years with his point and shoot cameras, I don't remember his name, but I would look at some of the pictures he took online and for some reason I found myself feeling as if I was in his shoes, wandering and taking pictures and having some weird emotions as if it was actually me who took them, the pictures spoke to me, and I found myself having to pull myself short for fear I was acting " uncool and freaky". I also found myself asking myself what he felt over the years as he took these pictures, and what he sufferd to get them.
I don't think colour reflects life in a real way, yet B&W does, it strips the warmth out of things that in reality are dire, I look at a B&W pic of someone being tortured and it makes my mind race at how wrong it is and how th eperson must be in terrible pain, its stark and real, yet if you put colour into it, it takes away all that and makes it feel in some way warm and not so bad or scary but "normal". I can't explain it any better than that, sorry.
I like the old films like St Trinians in B&W , they make me fall about laughing, yet newer comedy films just don't do it for me. I wonder why.
I look at "progress" and I wonder why it is that we seem to be going backward rather than forward, even to the point that in many ways we are resurrecting the old ways again because progress has shown that they were tried and tested and proven, plastic knobs don't last as long as metal ones, and the manufacturing process is disasterous to the earth, or you can't get rid of it for toxins...
I look at all the trades and people who have gone missing in life, the guy who thatched roofs or who made bricks by hand, the old sheffield steel industry, I ask myself why progress means that we are killing ourselves in an effort to get what we had but threw away, our freedoms our libertys, and our right to be happy, I think people are killing themselves to attain what they had without realising they had it and lost it because they wwere blindsided or tricked into signing something that took away their rights in the name of security or such, or lost them their jobs too a machine that can do it 100 times faster on the promise they would still have a job. I feel like we have kicked all our predecessors in the teeth, all those who feel at ypres or dunkirk or vietnam for the right to give us our lives and happiness, I sit at night and I wonder what they would say now, and why they gave their lives for us to throw it all away, the ways they knew gone forever and the trades they would no longer see.
I often sit and think of many many things that cause me pain, or concern me in the pains of others, I ask why do we HAVE to move with so called progression, even when it is obvious to us that it is backwards or going to cause harm, or even cost someone their lives,livelihood or homes, dig an open cast mine in wales and 300 people live in misery, yet its touted as progress or needed by the masses. I just don't get it, why must we make others miserable for money or someone elses idea of progress, why are people allowed to use psychological warfare to tout things as progress and force it upon us.
I ask if I am messed up for wanting to stay with the old safe ways, or to be happy with what I know rather than be forced to embrace some new technology purely because it means Fred can do something easier than I.
My head sometimes swims with all these things, it is often full of the incongruities and incosistencies in life as well as the pain of other people and their loses. I will leave you with just these few things to mull over, as I sit and think of the many many things In my head. Excuse my rant or what you may think a nonsense.
I love B&W. It has character and meaning.
I am now 49 and I have a love of everything Black and White, I love old pictures and really old films, I will sit and watch the old B&W films till my eyes droop and I fall asleep, but I can't sand colour films, they bore me, I don't know why, they just do, it's like they have no character or story to them, they seem to have no character or life in them.
I sit an I watch the old war films, or I walk down the road and I look at an elderly person and my mind wanders to their youth, and what they went through in it, did this person or that person serve in the armed forces or in intelligence, how much suffering did they have or feel, are they one of the many who was never rewarded a medal because they couldn't be named, where they tortured by the enemy and I someotimes look at the world and think how cruel it is as well as we are to each other, look at that poor old man shambling in the street eyes dead and no aim in where he is going, looking like he has nothing left and no one to go too, no one who visits him or cares if he is ok, they see nothing more than a dirty rambling old man and they mock him my eyes peel the years away from his face and gait and I see a proud man, or woman even, standing straight and rigid wearing a uniform, young with life in their face and their eyes sparkling, and so much pride, or with the love of their life long past away or sitting in a cold home that they can't afford to heat or buy food to keep warm, and inside I cry for them, for their dreams and pains over the years, I ask why no one cares for them anymore, I wonder if I asked them if I took their picture and offered them a couple of pound for doing so even just to help them along a little if they would be insulted, and so I don't.
I walk into old public houses or peoples homes and I see on the mantlepieces or walls old faded and yellowing pictures of people from yesteryear, many who have past away yet those still living yearn for them back or will sit and cry at night some thirty,fourty or fifty years later because they still miss and love them, those who are "missing" and whom others want to come home, too just walk through the door so desperately, I sat and watched my wifes grandfather Alf who served in HMS navy in WW2 and has never shown any sign of weakness sit and cry because he missed his wife who passed away some 20 years ago and I flet his pain but at the same time I felt so helpless and couild do nothing but sit and feel a lump the size of a brick in my throat, he went through 2 sinkings from torpedo and many other things as many did and yet, it meant nothing to him as much as she did.
I don't just look at this one war, but all of them and people of all nations, and I feel a pain inside at the loss of all sides and those who still don't know where loved ones are or what occured to them. I wonder if I am mad sometimes or mentally impaired because I feel such things.
I walk down the road and I remember the old man in the news who used to wander round the streets of london for many many years with his point and shoot cameras, I don't remember his name, but I would look at some of the pictures he took online and for some reason I found myself feeling as if I was in his shoes, wandering and taking pictures and having some weird emotions as if it was actually me who took them, the pictures spoke to me, and I found myself having to pull myself short for fear I was acting " uncool and freaky". I also found myself asking myself what he felt over the years as he took these pictures, and what he sufferd to get them.
I don't think colour reflects life in a real way, yet B&W does, it strips the warmth out of things that in reality are dire, I look at a B&W pic of someone being tortured and it makes my mind race at how wrong it is and how th eperson must be in terrible pain, its stark and real, yet if you put colour into it, it takes away all that and makes it feel in some way warm and not so bad or scary but "normal". I can't explain it any better than that, sorry.
I like the old films like St Trinians in B&W , they make me fall about laughing, yet newer comedy films just don't do it for me. I wonder why.
I look at "progress" and I wonder why it is that we seem to be going backward rather than forward, even to the point that in many ways we are resurrecting the old ways again because progress has shown that they were tried and tested and proven, plastic knobs don't last as long as metal ones, and the manufacturing process is disasterous to the earth, or you can't get rid of it for toxins...
I look at all the trades and people who have gone missing in life, the guy who thatched roofs or who made bricks by hand, the old sheffield steel industry, I ask myself why progress means that we are killing ourselves in an effort to get what we had but threw away, our freedoms our libertys, and our right to be happy, I think people are killing themselves to attain what they had without realising they had it and lost it because they wwere blindsided or tricked into signing something that took away their rights in the name of security or such, or lost them their jobs too a machine that can do it 100 times faster on the promise they would still have a job. I feel like we have kicked all our predecessors in the teeth, all those who feel at ypres or dunkirk or vietnam for the right to give us our lives and happiness, I sit at night and I wonder what they would say now, and why they gave their lives for us to throw it all away, the ways they knew gone forever and the trades they would no longer see.
I often sit and think of many many things that cause me pain, or concern me in the pains of others, I ask why do we HAVE to move with so called progression, even when it is obvious to us that it is backwards or going to cause harm, or even cost someone their lives,livelihood or homes, dig an open cast mine in wales and 300 people live in misery, yet its touted as progress or needed by the masses. I just don't get it, why must we make others miserable for money or someone elses idea of progress, why are people allowed to use psychological warfare to tout things as progress and force it upon us.
I ask if I am messed up for wanting to stay with the old safe ways, or to be happy with what I know rather than be forced to embrace some new technology purely because it means Fred can do something easier than I.
My head sometimes swims with all these things, it is often full of the incongruities and incosistencies in life as well as the pain of other people and their loses. I will leave you with just these few things to mull over, as I sit and think of the many many things In my head. Excuse my rant or what you may think a nonsense.
I love B&W. It has character and meaning.