Monday, November 23, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
sCaRy StUff
The scariest part of being scared, is the thought of someone or something, there.
what's behind the door...
Ladder to nowhere.
Double vision, a ghostly sighting?
Haunted house in San Francisco.
Friday, October 16, 2009
$...Fire Fighter Poem...$
Man.
Fire.
Wit.
Pure.
Hero.
A heated, witty, pure, heroic man walks through the building.
Lights, everywhere.
Fire, everywhere.
Eyes blinded by the woman of sunlight.
Thoughts whirl around the heroes head: death, life, and love.
Trapped beneath the blazing log, remembering the childhood,
the hero falls into his sleep.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
*Fire Fighterz*
What comes after the 5.0? What can potentially save your life? What can put out one of the hottest natural things on Earth? Who run's into burning buildings to save a poor little dog? Who climbs ladders so save a poor little cat from a tree? Fire Fighters. The life savers of the country, the heroes, the " Mr. Nice Guy's". I spent 24 hours with the hero's crew and got to see what they do. This is a series of pictures that show my 1 full day training with the true heroes.
My first mission, Approx. 9:00 am, helping the crew to save a mentally unstable woman who escaped from " Happy People's" mental institution. She claimed she had a knife, and a pile of rocks she would throw at us if we came close to her. So I used my psychic abilities to lure her into a state of depression, shown in the image, and then suddenly snatched her from the tree, harming no one and saving the day. Just another day in the life of a fighter.
Fire Fighter's need to be fit and equipped with the heaviest artillery and materials at all times, because part of the job is to be alert 24/7. I was wearing a woman's size fire fighter jacket. It was snug, but it let me be nimble and provided me with the freedom to move around.
At the wheel of the truck...posted and poised, ready to respond to any un-nerving call about anything, with endless possibilities. The October blinding sunlight was too heavy for even us, heroes. We have to look away. As it shone on the different homes, it seemed as if every house in San Francisco had a fire. It was a scary time for us heroes.
What's going to happen next? what will encounter upon us? A trapped soul? Or a collapsing building? We wait, and think uneasily for that loud bell to ring to give us the go. Our future is not predestined, in fact, it's the complete opposite.
While looking ahead at the next few uprising intersections, wondering how bad this call actually is,
About 45 minutes after the rescue of the mentally unstable cat woman, we got another call about some people trapped on the roof, which required hand tools such as axes, pliers. and and hammer. I was scared climbing up there, I have to admit, but I knew I was saving someone's life.
Trying to break open the locked up cage where the people were located, I used all my brute force to cut the thick, steel wires. I finally had to call for help over the radio when 10 seconds later two firemen came and surprisingly broke it open. It looks much easier when a real hero accomplishes something doesn't it?
Heroic after the hard day, I felt like showing my intensity and masculinity by putting the war torn axe in my mouth.
Waving goodbye to the few spectators who clapped when we successfully saved the peoples lives. Heroes don't need attention to be heroes.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Creepy Crawlers
Arachnaphobia is what I have. I'm here to show you the closest I will ever get to these creepy, hairy, ugly, venom ridden, crawlers. I was lucky enough to find this bugger in my room a few days ago. Flabberghasted, shocked, and frightened all at the same time, I reached for the camera. This particular spider quickly moved under furniture etc. So I had to get really close to it, too close for comfort, and blow on it to make it move. The spider eventually went out in the open, where this ariel shot was taken. He sprinted under the couch after the flash, that's probably why his gross, hairy leg is spread out, ready to move. I flabberghastedly hasted, and took all these pictures in about 30 seconds. The spider looked at me with an expression of disgust. Can you believe that? Now the spider thinks it's all that. I hate them with every passion I have in my soul.
The bent skinny legs give me and thousands of other people give shivers down our spines. The white-ish body make the spider even more of a freak of nature. Up against the cold white wall, the spider must feel violated with me in its personal space. It is said that the ethiopians believed that spiders had a personal radius, and whenever someone or something invades that space, they will strike with avengence.
Sepia: makes the spider less terrifying in person. There is nothing like seeing a spider in real life than seeing it in a merely safe framed picture...
Up close, the spider gets horrified by the camera lens. It crouches its legs even more, moving its fangs, ready to strike at any innocent living thing that comes in its way from its prey. Prey being, in fact, my camera. It chased me when I made it move, but i merely stepped over it. It is heard that the early Egyptians used black spiders to eat the mummified beings eyes out. It is said that when the spider digests the eyes, the next web they make is part of the beings after life, so they can watch over the other humans, as disguised as a spider web.
The bent skinny legs give me and thousands of other people give shivers down our spines. The white-ish body make the spider even more of a freak of nature. Up against the cold white wall, the spider must feel violated with me in its personal space. It is said that the ethiopians believed that spiders had a personal radius, and whenever someone or something invades that space, they will strike with avengence.
Sepia: makes the spider less terrifying in person. There is nothing like seeing a spider in real life than seeing it in a merely safe framed picture...
Up close, the spider gets horrified by the camera lens. It crouches its legs even more, moving its fangs, ready to strike at any innocent living thing that comes in its way from its prey. Prey being, in fact, my camera. It chased me when I made it move, but i merely stepped over it. It is heard that the early Egyptians used black spiders to eat the mummified beings eyes out. It is said that when the spider digests the eyes, the next web they make is part of the beings after life, so they can watch over the other humans, as disguised as a spider web.
The white buttox of this creepy crawler is ready to spit its nasty white web onto some relenting object without hesitation. Its fangs stick out while the legs tower over the whole body, like it is concaved in hair.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Where's Waldo?
Because he is 15, everything around him seems more dull and vacant. He has three metal legs, because he fell off the roof of our old 4 story house, onto the concrete. His name is Waldo, and is now 22 pounds and trying to lose weight. This is his story:
A facial expression that defines Waldo as a whole. Confused, doubt, hopelessness, and mild wisdom from his years sitting in the same place in the house, for 8 hours at a time, watching the world revolve around him.
Waldo in action. His sleepiness intrigue's even the most intellectual philosophers, and his snoring wakes even the most deep sleepers. His facial expressions change in his sleep, while everything else moves up and down from his inconsistent breathing. His whiskers even look like they are resting, while at the same time, the white fur on his chin is fading.
His bones get increasingly cold during the winter, therefore, he needs every possible sunlight ray he can get. The camera makes him angry, feel depressed and lonesome, feel as if he is a dying breed.
His achluophobia does not stop him from walking in the night. In fact he fights many raccoons to gain his wise reputation around the neighborhood.
One of my favorite pictures of him. This represents his dominance over daisy. He loves to look down on her, scold her, and whine at her when she gets close. All in all, it's an unbalanced relationship.
His daily stroll outside the house sometimes gets cut short when he see's a canine across the street, or a loud car driving by. If he could, he would sit outside on the steps all day, half of his moldy body in the sunlight, and half in the cool shade.
His shorter hairs on his nose are ideal for petting, and his blubbery cheeks are sensitive to the human touch. Trapped in a maximum security household, he has hours to reflect on what his life has been like. Wondering what he could have done differently.
Depressed at the sight of the world running without him, a flick of his tail is all he needs to show his true emotions.
A facial expression that defines Waldo as a whole. Confused, doubt, hopelessness, and mild wisdom from his years sitting in the same place in the house, for 8 hours at a time, watching the world revolve around him.
Waldo in action. His sleepiness intrigue's even the most intellectual philosophers, and his snoring wakes even the most deep sleepers. His facial expressions change in his sleep, while everything else moves up and down from his inconsistent breathing. His whiskers even look like they are resting, while at the same time, the white fur on his chin is fading.
His bones get increasingly cold during the winter, therefore, he needs every possible sunlight ray he can get. The camera makes him angry, feel depressed and lonesome, feel as if he is a dying breed.
His achluophobia does not stop him from walking in the night. In fact he fights many raccoons to gain his wise reputation around the neighborhood.
One of my favorite pictures of him. This represents his dominance over daisy. He loves to look down on her, scold her, and whine at her when she gets close. All in all, it's an unbalanced relationship.
His daily stroll outside the house sometimes gets cut short when he see's a canine across the street, or a loud car driving by. If he could, he would sit outside on the steps all day, half of his moldy body in the sunlight, and half in the cool shade.
His shorter hairs on his nose are ideal for petting, and his blubbery cheeks are sensitive to the human touch. Trapped in a maximum security household, he has hours to reflect on what his life has been like. Wondering what he could have done differently.
Depressed at the sight of the world running without him, a flick of his tail is all he needs to show his true emotions.
Starting a deal with the Arminian Mafia, He battles to defend his turf. His fraternity of feline's consisted of just himself, though still running the block maturely and with zero flaws.
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