Dignity Hunt #4: Tugboatmen, New Orleans, La.

Dignity Hunt #5: Morial Convention Center, New Orleans, La.

Dignity Hunt #6: Publicity Shoot, Canal St., New Orleans, La.

Dignity Hunt #7: Stripper, French Quarter

Walgreen's, Canal St, New Orleans, La.

Wednesday night.

Expired Film Update

Two rolls go in tomorrow: random fall/winter and Baltimore.

Ways to make Calgary look like a city/Update

1. Photograph plumes of steam exploding upward from the frigid downtown skyscrapers at sunset, from the north, when the low-angle sunlight splashes right back at the lens and creates the image of steaming shining icy spires.

2. Photograph giant and important-looking aircraft beginning takeoff roll while aimed at the lonely skyline and surrounded by snow-covered everything.

I did neither. Now I'm in wet and rainy Vancouver, the beautiful catch basin of Canadian failure and, occasionally, Rob Bellinger's American dreams.

Dear CMike,

We must begin photo-documenting all future band rehearsals/writing sessions.

Sincerely,
rb

Large Northeastern City Takes Valuable Harborfront Property and Uses it to Expand Port

And it's Boston. This is awesome!

In the Northeast, we never get new industrial stuff to photograph. But as usual, the private development on public land is being run by at least one ex-state official, just like the MBTA commuter rail. And the Globe illogically uses the words "cement" and "concrete" interchangeably in its article.

I know that's why you come to my blog. To read about the difference between cement and concrete.

RB vs. Drunken Cop Impersonator in Davis

I was on my way downtown to buy stuff when I spotted some really cool old bikes chained up just beyond the Somerville Theatre side of the Davis T stop. I admire the design of old and quirky bikes, but I don't think I've had much success photographing them, so I decided to give it another shot with the subjects available. There was a cool, aerodynamic Taiwanese bike with well-aged fenders, a French road bike with an interesting brake cable alignment that symmetrically divided the frame, and a few other good ones. I had to wedge myself between the bikes and the brick wall in front of them to get some shots of the the manufacturers' insignia. I probably looked weird.

When I finished, I noticed a wiry, Irish-townie looking guy straddling a bike in the middle of the brick walkway. He was staring me down. He had bushy blond hair, an unyouthful face, and wore a white polo shirt and jeans. In a slow, low mumble, he asked

DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Whattaya lookin faw?
RB: Just looking at these cool old bikes.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Nah, whattayalookinfaw?
RB: The bikes.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Nah, I wanna know, whea do you come from? What do you see?
RB: (Getting impatient) Well, I'm from New York.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: (Eyes bulging with sudden, unmistakable rage) Yah from Noo Yok, what the fuckaya doin heeya? (A strong aura of whiskey accompanies his harshening words.)
RB: Well, I live here, and I'm off today. I'm looking for some photos.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: I look lika regla guy, but I'm a caup.
RB: (Contemplates walking away for several seconds). Huh?
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: I said I look lika regla guy, but I'm a caup. I look out for people. I look for people like you.
RB: You're a cop?
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: (Nods)
RB: Well, let's see some ID then.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: (Jumps off bike, holds the bike up with one hand, makes a fist with the other. Jumps up and down while holding the bike upright). HEEZ YA FUCKIN ID! HEEZ ALL THE FUCKIN ID YAH NEED!
RB: (Realizing he must protect camera) I'm done with you. Get away from me. (Begins to walk away, back toward subway entrance).
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: Yah betta getda fuck attaheeya!

RB walks around the subway entrance to a large bus map on which the phone number for the MBTA Police is listed. As RB dials the dispatcher on his cellphone, the DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR storms around the station entrance on his bicycle, veering between pedestrians, and pulls up to RB, shouting...


DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: YAH BETTA NOT BE CALLIN THE FUCKIN CAUPS ON ME! I'M A CAUP! HEEZ MY FUCKIN BADGE! HEEZ MY FUCKIN BADGE! (Drunk does nothing to reach for or present said badge)
RB: I see you're a real professional, cursing at me.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: [immemorable expletive]
RB: I told you, I'm done with you. You better get away from me.
DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR: YOU betta get da fuck attaheeya!
RB: See ya. (Enters station, redials police).
POLICE DISPATCHER: MBTApolicethiscallisbeingrecorded.

RB reports DRUNKEN COP IMPERSONATOR to police, then continues on to buy running shoes. Like a bad caffeine high, fight/flight adrenaline supply takes full hour to subside.

I didn't know it was possible to handle these without cursing or fighting. I learned that today.

Capturing Scary and Depressing Winter Boston

You have to land on a redeye from at least as west as Denver, completely exhausted, to see it. It has to be about 7:29 a.m., with the useless February sun just having risen. It has to be at least ten degrees below freezing, with the air so thin that any exposed part of your body feels ready to explode into the icy vacuum. The smokestacks of the Mystic River power plant in Everett and the US Gypsum plant in Charlestown have to be blasting aternating columns of steam and haze directly upward, at opposite ends of the faded Tobin Bridge. This is just setting the stage for the ride out of the airport. As your cab navigates the snaking ramps to the Sumner Tunnel, you catch a glimpse of all the hundreds of pointed woodframe rooftops in East Boston, then see the sun's weak rays reflecting off the anonymous and and unidentifiable skyscrapers downtown.

How to pack it all into one shot or series of shots?

This is what I think about as summer begins to arrive.

I need a tripod, an arctic suit, and an elevated vantage point in East Boston to nail this.

MBTA introduces supersurveillance buses

Three closed circuit cameras weren't enough. Now, new buses will have eight.

If they're going to be photographing me, I'm going to be photographing them.

Best of Plastic Shitcam

Unicyclist.

I lost my digital point and shoot camera and have been using my el cheapo fixed focus 35mm camera with semi-expired film I just got two rolls back from the drugstore.

Drugstores leave their own mark on your photos. They fuck up cutting negatives, fuck up alignment on prints, fuck up scanning, etc. Their computer-controlled lab machines make the same mistakes humans used to. In addition to the regular slew of imperfections, the machine at Walgreen's neglected to print or scan what I thought would be the coolest picture in the set, a shot of a Bobcat's demolition claw crouched over a dumpster in South Beach. It will get here eventually.

More from plastic shitcam:

New Photosets

New Orleans


New York Harbor, 12/28/06


And here's a recent Macworld interview with Flickr co-founder Stewart Butterfield that provides absolutely no information or insight into the future of Flickr, save for slight suggestions and hints that all for-profit internet and media outlets will continue to grow at the expense of their content providers (you).

Coming tonight: The New Adventures of Old Plastic Shitcam, Part 1.

Christmas Evening

Christmas Evening.

My block in Queens on Christmas evening.


Now that I've learned of the simple "handshake" between Flickr and Blogger, I'm going to post many more pictures on the blog (I used to FTP them to rbellinger.com).