WheeeeeeeeEeeeeeeAugust 20, 2012
Just another normal night at the Weeds:
The night before I left for Indonesia my house decided to make a Night of it. Sam had several serendipitous encounters with Lincoln, Mass neighbors, couch surfer/sat market acquaintances, and burners while Gabe, Ian, and I skated down deserted Portland streets/tennis courts 11pm-7am. Suffice to say I ended up breaking yet another tripod.
My tripod history:
Tripod 1: Sailing to the Whitsunday Islands off the coast of Australia, and properly liquored up with Bundeburg Rum and Tooey's Old like a true sailor; I set up my tripod to take a photo of my drinking chums: 1 drunk Harvard economics professor slurring game theory at me, 1 hammered philosophical mathematician, 1 beautiful austrian woman who wasn't really drinking with us, just next to us. The photo was taken, but something must have gone wrong because everyone was happily lit and in focus. I put my camera away while rocking inharmoniously with the boat, tripped on a rope, flattened the tripod and went barreling head first down the foc'sle.
Tripod 2: I bought a new tripod in NZ, carted it safely across the world (which is surprising judging by the condition my bags are in), only to have it melt in the molten puss of a recently popped black head on Gaia's back, otherwise known as Volcan Pacaya, just outside of Antigua, Guatemala. With magma sputtering out of the crater I a little overzealously pulled out my tripod for the photo, and watched as one of the legs shot off and flew as if it was a heat guided missile. Some how the shoddy tripod design corresponded exactly with my subconscious desire to throw something in the magma (it was very nearly sam!).
Tripod 3: Some vital piece of crap broke off in a not very exciting way at the beach
Tripod 4: From my most recent skating escapade, Gabe and I were skating back from the Burnside bridge at 7 am after attempting to watch a very noisy sunrise. I hopped up onto a sidewalk that happened to be covered in gravel, broken glass, and twisted metal. My tripod was in the pocket of my backpack reserved specifically for launching things whenever I stopped suddenly, and I did indeed stop suddenly. I flew about 3 ft from my skate board, and my tripod landed about 8 ft away from me...the head had shattered. And that is why you should always wear a helmet (not helminth) while skating....i'm sorry, what was I talking about...never mind. Here are some photos from that night:
Chris, the last of the Autobots, come to earth to rock you
I told them to do something wild with the light painting, and this is what they came up with...multi-dimensional snails?
Rolling around the tennis court with lights, you can see the refresh rate of the leds
Gabe "crazy eyes" Ragland
from the burnside bridge