Further to the demise of Kodachrome, the WSJ waxes elegiac about everything that made this slide film such a sensuous medium.
As I was putting away the not-so-critical stuff (meaning: you don’t need it to eat or sleep), I came upon my bag o’ film, which includes two 36-exposure rolls of Kodachrome 64, a roll of TMAX 100 and one of TMAX 3200 black & white, and a mass of Fujicolor color negative film. That stopped me in my tracks—even more than finding the lead pouch I used to put this stuff in to go through airport checked luggage X-raying.
What a blast from the past. Makes me think about all the years of photographs I’ve taken (my theory was that—especially with slide film—I’d just shoot everything that appealed to me, and then pick out the few keepers from each roll; it worked out pretty well, generally), all the places I’ve hauled all those cameras. It’s like my life is wrapped up in that more than in anything else.
And I wonder why I seemed to have no trouble learning to shoot with the Nikon rangefinder, with having to read the external light meter and calculate the f-stop & shutter speed; or the various Minolta SLRs I went through; but this bloody Nikon DSLR just makes me want to drop-kick it across the Puget Sound?
Well—death, change and taxes are the only constants, I guess.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Emerald City Blues
Life in the Third World continues.
I finally have a refrigerator in place, although it took four weeks and two vendors to manage it. Now to get the builder to touch up the delivery scuffs & gouges in the stairwells, which were clearly designed without imagining that someone would want to move anything into the house.
Next in line: get the Sears charges for appliances removed from my AmEx account. They shouldn't have been applied to begin with because Sears received the money from the builder on 10 June, but six emails and three phone calls still haven't resulted in any, you know, action. I've finally sicced AmEx on them by disputing the charges.
Also, despite four calls to Seattle City Light (including one from the builder), I still don't have my garbage/recycling bins, so I continue to make early morning runs to dumpsters. (And, BTW, yes--the light company also provides water, sewer and trash; although apparently not in a timely manner.) I'm not going to be happy about them when they finally arrive anyhow: seems the trash bin isn't a bin at all, but a box, which I'll have to carry to the pick-up point. Which is more than 100 meters from my actual house.
Seriously--when people assured me I'd love the PNW because "people are so laid back", they had to have been referring to service providers.
Don't have approved trash receptacles? Just hang on to the trash until we get around to it.
One more indignity (I was going to say "final", but I've no doubt that Seattle has many, many more in store): my final water bill ($172 for 60 days; in Virginia it was $25/quarter) from the City of Bellevue contains a $10 "additional charge".
It's for "final bill".
Pity I didn't bring the gelignite with me.
I finally have a refrigerator in place, although it took four weeks and two vendors to manage it. Now to get the builder to touch up the delivery scuffs & gouges in the stairwells, which were clearly designed without imagining that someone would want to move anything into the house.
Next in line: get the Sears charges for appliances removed from my AmEx account. They shouldn't have been applied to begin with because Sears received the money from the builder on 10 June, but six emails and three phone calls still haven't resulted in any, you know, action. I've finally sicced AmEx on them by disputing the charges.
Also, despite four calls to Seattle City Light (including one from the builder), I still don't have my garbage/recycling bins, so I continue to make early morning runs to dumpsters. (And, BTW, yes--the light company also provides water, sewer and trash; although apparently not in a timely manner.) I'm not going to be happy about them when they finally arrive anyhow: seems the trash bin isn't a bin at all, but a box, which I'll have to carry to the pick-up point. Which is more than 100 meters from my actual house.
Seriously--when people assured me I'd love the PNW because "people are so laid back", they had to have been referring to service providers.
Don't have approved trash receptacles? Just hang on to the trash until we get around to it.
One more indignity (I was going to say "final", but I've no doubt that Seattle has many, many more in store): my final water bill ($172 for 60 days; in Virginia it was $25/quarter) from the City of Bellevue contains a $10 "additional charge".
It's for "final bill".
Pity I didn't bring the gelignite with me.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Remembering the first day of the Somme
Ninety-three years ago today the British Army impaled itself upon the idea that if you only throw more men at entrenched machine gun emplacements, you’ll achieve a breakthrough in a war of stagnation.
The first day of the Battle of the Somme cost the Brits 58,000 casualties (almost 20,000 of them dead), but won no breakthrough. Neither did it break through the dense crania of the British generals. The new commander, Sir Douglas Haig, remained boneheaded to his death, which unfortunately came long after the Armistice in 1918.
(Generals typically were not in danger of injuries, unless they fell off their polo ponies or slipped on the floor of the officers’ mess.)
No, wave after wave of Tommies went over the top from 1 July to 18 November without enough land to grow a crop of wheat changing hands. The ground was churned to sludge by unbelievable numbers of artillery bombardments; farmers are still turning up unexploded shells as they tend their fields. In the end the butcher’s bill ran to 420,000 British, 200,000 French and 500,000 Germans dead, missing and; wounded.
So pause a moment and think of the day when the sun truly began to set on the British Empire, and consider the tens of thousands of men who’ve rested along the battle line for the past 93 years.
The first day of the Battle of the Somme cost the Brits 58,000 casualties (almost 20,000 of them dead), but won no breakthrough. Neither did it break through the dense crania of the British generals. The new commander, Sir Douglas Haig, remained boneheaded to his death, which unfortunately came long after the Armistice in 1918.
(Generals typically were not in danger of injuries, unless they fell off their polo ponies or slipped on the floor of the officers’ mess.)
No, wave after wave of Tommies went over the top from 1 July to 18 November without enough land to grow a crop of wheat changing hands. The ground was churned to sludge by unbelievable numbers of artillery bombardments; farmers are still turning up unexploded shells as they tend their fields. In the end the butcher’s bill ran to 420,000 British, 200,000 French and 500,000 Germans dead, missing and; wounded.
So pause a moment and think of the day when the sun truly began to set on the British Empire, and consider the tens of thousands of men who’ve rested along the battle line for the past 93 years.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Another one bites the dust
Well, well, well—seems that, while justice is still a dream, the law still has some edge on her sword.
US District Court Judge Denny Chin sentenced Bernie Madoff to 150 years in prison for running the largest (so far) Ponzi scheme in US history. This is the full sentence demanded by the prosecution & 12.5 times what Madoff’s attorneys had suggested as a “reasonable” term.
Still not enough for the hundreds of victims of Madoff’s scheme, but I guess it’s a start. & because Madoff pleaded guilty there’s no way that death can vacate the verdict, as it did with Kenny Lay, of Enron fame. (I still want them to dig him up to make sure the bastard’s actually dead.)
Let’s hope the rest of the greed-a-rama set on Wall Street pays attention.
US District Court Judge Denny Chin sentenced Bernie Madoff to 150 years in prison for running the largest (so far) Ponzi scheme in US history. This is the full sentence demanded by the prosecution & 12.5 times what Madoff’s attorneys had suggested as a “reasonable” term.
Still not enough for the hundreds of victims of Madoff’s scheme, but I guess it’s a start. & because Madoff pleaded guilty there’s no way that death can vacate the verdict, as it did with Kenny Lay, of Enron fame. (I still want them to dig him up to make sure the bastard’s actually dead.)
Let’s hope the rest of the greed-a-rama set on Wall Street pays attention.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Summer wines
Although I’m suffering from withdrawal symptoms over Eric Felten throwing over his drinks column in the Wall Street Journal, that publication’s wine writers are taking up some of the slack.
This week they give recommendations on jug wines (not jugs, really, but 1.5 litre bottles), just in time for the holiday weekend.
I have to say that I’ve not got much hope of finding the selection here in Washington state; & certainly not at the prices quoted, since the state government jacks up prices for some unknown reason. (Unless it’s just the old revenue wheeze.)
But you may be able to find some. If so—salud!
This week they give recommendations on jug wines (not jugs, really, but 1.5 litre bottles), just in time for the holiday weekend.
I have to say that I’ve not got much hope of finding the selection here in Washington state; & certainly not at the prices quoted, since the state government jacks up prices for some unknown reason. (Unless it’s just the old revenue wheeze.)
But you may be able to find some. If so—salud!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Sign of the Times
‘Kay, there’s plenty of news to talk about, but this just stopped me cold. I saw that Farrah Fawcett lost her battle with cancer, so I went to her hometown paper to see what they had to say.
Imagine my, well, surprise at finding what the LA Times thinks is good (or even appropriate) context-generated advertising. (I’ve highlighted the relevant offenders in yellow.)
In case you’re unable to see in this rendering, I’ve cut out the offenders for separate viewing:
Imagine my, well, surprise at finding what the LA Times thinks is good (or even appropriate) context-generated advertising. (I’ve highlighted the relevant offenders in yellow.)
In case you’re unable to see in this rendering, I’ve cut out the offenders for separate viewing:
As if the text ads weren't bad enough, we also have:
What you can’t see here is the changes in the caskets that are displayed, so there is this constant neon-light-like flashing in your line of vision.
I understand there’s an algorithm that matches ads with content, but you’d think there’d be some adult supervision in the equation somewhere.
Evidently you’d be wrong.
I understand there’s an algorithm that matches ads with content, but you’d think there’d be some adult supervision in the equation somewhere.
Evidently you’d be wrong.
Jabberwocky
One of the first books I unpacked in my recent move was my copy of The Annotated Alice, which comprises Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass. So I reread them both.
I used to say of my previous employer that I’d fallen down the rabbit hole, but I admit that where I am now is definitely looking-glass world. Everything is distorted, nothing is as it seems, in order to get somewhere you must go in the opposite direction, and the shortest distance between two points is never a straight line.
In fact, there may not be a connection at all between the two points, so you’d better not set your heart on that.
I’m working on a product that’s been in “development” since March and the configuration of v1 still hasn’t been anointed.
That’s because we’re still taking guesses at who the target market is and what use they might get out of this.
(And, no—that’s not how you’re supposed to build new applications. But this only came up because management made a deal with a data source and then we had to dream up something to use the data on.)
Unsurprisingly, launch date keeps being pushed out quarter by quarter.
I have to say that knowing things aren’t going to make any sense doesn’t make it particularly easier to navigate the landscape, but there it is. A slithy tove is a slithy tove, wherever you encounter it.
I used to say of my previous employer that I’d fallen down the rabbit hole, but I admit that where I am now is definitely looking-glass world. Everything is distorted, nothing is as it seems, in order to get somewhere you must go in the opposite direction, and the shortest distance between two points is never a straight line.
In fact, there may not be a connection at all between the two points, so you’d better not set your heart on that.
I’m working on a product that’s been in “development” since March and the configuration of v1 still hasn’t been anointed.
That’s because we’re still taking guesses at who the target market is and what use they might get out of this.
(And, no—that’s not how you’re supposed to build new applications. But this only came up because management made a deal with a data source and then we had to dream up something to use the data on.)
Unsurprisingly, launch date keeps being pushed out quarter by quarter.
I have to say that knowing things aren’t going to make any sense doesn’t make it particularly easier to navigate the landscape, but there it is. A slithy tove is a slithy tove, wherever you encounter it.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
The writing on the wall
Oh, no—another American icon is biting the dust. Eastman Kodak is discontinuing Kodachrome.
Kodachrome is a wonderful slide film—if you were shooting anything with warm tones, from fall foliage to kids’ birthday parties, Kodachrome gave you an edge. (If you were going after blue-green landscapes, you went for Ektachrome, a lesson I learned the hard way. But at least I learned it early.)
I’ve shot hundreds of rolls of this luscious stuff. I went through at least 20 in a single two-week trip to the battlefields of France. Another 10-15 at Renaissance Pleasure Fayres over the years. I started shooting it on my old Nikon rangefinder—where I had to use an external light meter to set the shutter & aperture. (If you wonder where the title & URL for this blog originated, just think about it.) Those photos have held up well through the years, too.
I loved looking at the slides through the viewer or on a light table—just for the colors. It’s entirely different from viewing thumbnails on a monitor. There’s something big time about sorting slides on a light table that I miss. Over time, I’ve whittled down my collection to a mere handful, but the ones left are definitely old friends, & they haven’t faded in the least.
I’ll confess that I have played my own part in Kodachrome’s demise. About the time I moved to the UK & I realized processing slides was going to be a pain, I switched to color negative film. & to Fuji, because I liked the depth of colors better than the Kodak products.
(Also, Fuji 35mm canisters are great for pill bottles—unlike the black & grey Kodak ones, they’re translucent, so you can tell if you’ve got the ibuprofen or the Zyrtec in a particular container.)
Then when it became damned near impossible to find it in the ASA 100 speed film (giving you room to slow the shutter & get some motion effects), I started eying digital cameras. So while I used to schlep through Europe with three cameras (one for color, one for B&W & one for quick snaps), I now just have a digital point-&-shoot & a digital SLR. I joined the Dark Side.
During this last move, I hauled the plastic bag of film from one refrigerator crisper box to another. I suppose I should have some sort of Viking funeral for the stuff. (What I’ll do with the six or so film 35mm cameras, I don’t know. I haven’t reached the point where I can bear to part with any of them because of the partnership we’ve had ever since I was in high school.) Perhaps I should just make some sort of objets-trouvés art piece out of the boxes & rolls.
But it’s the end of an era, so join Paul & me in a chorus:
Kodachrome is a wonderful slide film—if you were shooting anything with warm tones, from fall foliage to kids’ birthday parties, Kodachrome gave you an edge. (If you were going after blue-green landscapes, you went for Ektachrome, a lesson I learned the hard way. But at least I learned it early.)
I’ve shot hundreds of rolls of this luscious stuff. I went through at least 20 in a single two-week trip to the battlefields of France. Another 10-15 at Renaissance Pleasure Fayres over the years. I started shooting it on my old Nikon rangefinder—where I had to use an external light meter to set the shutter & aperture. (If you wonder where the title & URL for this blog originated, just think about it.) Those photos have held up well through the years, too.
I loved looking at the slides through the viewer or on a light table—just for the colors. It’s entirely different from viewing thumbnails on a monitor. There’s something big time about sorting slides on a light table that I miss. Over time, I’ve whittled down my collection to a mere handful, but the ones left are definitely old friends, & they haven’t faded in the least.
I’ll confess that I have played my own part in Kodachrome’s demise. About the time I moved to the UK & I realized processing slides was going to be a pain, I switched to color negative film. & to Fuji, because I liked the depth of colors better than the Kodak products.
(Also, Fuji 35mm canisters are great for pill bottles—unlike the black & grey Kodak ones, they’re translucent, so you can tell if you’ve got the ibuprofen or the Zyrtec in a particular container.)
Then when it became damned near impossible to find it in the ASA 100 speed film (giving you room to slow the shutter & get some motion effects), I started eying digital cameras. So while I used to schlep through Europe with three cameras (one for color, one for B&W & one for quick snaps), I now just have a digital point-&-shoot & a digital SLR. I joined the Dark Side.
During this last move, I hauled the plastic bag of film from one refrigerator crisper box to another. I suppose I should have some sort of Viking funeral for the stuff. (What I’ll do with the six or so film 35mm cameras, I don’t know. I haven’t reached the point where I can bear to part with any of them because of the partnership we’ve had ever since I was in high school.) Perhaps I should just make some sort of objets-trouvés art piece out of the boxes & rolls.
But it’s the end of an era, so join Paul & me in a chorus:
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Time, gentlemen
Oh, my fur & whiskers—Eric Felten is hanging up his booze spurs.
Even though he thinks Laphroaig is fit for anything but cleaning out your crankcase, & that vodka is fit for nothing but cleaning out your crankcase, he’s always come up with interesting stuff about spirits & cocktails.
(I did have a Lemon Drop once; the folks at the booth next to ours at a high-tech trade show were offering “martinis” & cookies, & on my last day of booth duty I opted for the Lemon Drop. It was something Hercule Poirot would have enjoyed.)
Seems he’s moving on to American culture as a whole. Although I’d think you’d get a pretty good grasp on that from a bar stool.
He says he’ll still write the occasional drinks column, but it’s going to be a long, dry summer.
Even though he thinks Laphroaig is fit for anything but cleaning out your crankcase, & that vodka is fit for nothing but cleaning out your crankcase, he’s always come up with interesting stuff about spirits & cocktails.
(I did have a Lemon Drop once; the folks at the booth next to ours at a high-tech trade show were offering “martinis” & cookies, & on my last day of booth duty I opted for the Lemon Drop. It was something Hercule Poirot would have enjoyed.)
Seems he’s moving on to American culture as a whole. Although I’d think you’d get a pretty good grasp on that from a bar stool.
He says he’ll still write the occasional drinks column, but it’s going to be a long, dry summer.
Monday, June 22, 2009
Swedish puzzles
I swear—moving hell just never ends.
I bought an IKEA six-drawer dresser a few weeks ago—I figured I might as well let the movers schlep it up to the third floor in flat packs and I’d put it together after I got in.
Well, that was the plan, anyhow.
I got the frame set up, finally. But when time came to assemble the drawers, I just lost the plot. And IKEA’s text-less “instructions” are about as much help as a chocolate teapot.
I’m just flummoxed. The bottom of the drawers doesn’t actually attach to anything. It slides into a groove at the front & back and that’s somehow supposed to keep it from sagging when you put all your socks in there. Then there are these white plastic screw-like things you’re supposed to somehow get into the sides and rear pieces. They’re screw-like, but there’s no slot or hatch on the head to insert a screwdriver.
And the text-less instructions only tell you you’ll need Phillips and slot screwdrivers and a hammer for the whole project. The particular picture just shows the screw-like things going magically into the holes.
I guess I’m going to have to make a run down to IKEA to see this thing on the hoof and try to extrapolate how I make it happen.
Meanwhile I have a bedroom full of IKEA pieces.
Deep joy.
I bought an IKEA six-drawer dresser a few weeks ago—I figured I might as well let the movers schlep it up to the third floor in flat packs and I’d put it together after I got in.
Well, that was the plan, anyhow.
I got the frame set up, finally. But when time came to assemble the drawers, I just lost the plot. And IKEA’s text-less “instructions” are about as much help as a chocolate teapot.
I’m just flummoxed. The bottom of the drawers doesn’t actually attach to anything. It slides into a groove at the front & back and that’s somehow supposed to keep it from sagging when you put all your socks in there. Then there are these white plastic screw-like things you’re supposed to somehow get into the sides and rear pieces. They’re screw-like, but there’s no slot or hatch on the head to insert a screwdriver.
And the text-less instructions only tell you you’ll need Phillips and slot screwdrivers and a hammer for the whole project. The particular picture just shows the screw-like things going magically into the holes.
I guess I’m going to have to make a run down to IKEA to see this thing on the hoof and try to extrapolate how I make it happen.
Meanwhile I have a bedroom full of IKEA pieces.
Deep joy.
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