08 April 2010
27 March 2010
Photographs: Hipstamatic for iPhone
Garbage, Photograph by Michelle Rae
Life's a Bicycle, Photograph by Michelle Rae
As Time Passes, Photograph by Michelle Rae
Of Bony Limbs and Melancholy Moods, Photograph by Michelle Rae
Courtship, Photograph by Michelle Rae
24 March 2010
09 March 2010
06 March 2010
03 March 2010
Photographs: My first roll with my Holga CMY loaded with an inverted 35mm color film
Published at Lomography.com (http://www.lomography.com/magazine/blog/2010/03/25/love-at-first-sight-twice)
Love at First Sight... Twice...
It's a lot harder to fall in love in real life. They make it so easy in movies that it almost convinces everyone. The fact of the matter is when it comes to the opposite sex, it's not easy to be accepting, patient, and unselfish.
Thank the Greek gods that's not the case with toy cameras.
The minute I opened that busy blue Diana box and I found that gleaming goddess of the hunt beckoning me to be one of her hunters, I fell under her spell and pledged my allegiance. She's been my mentor, my guide, my inspiration, and my motivation since then. She's taught me to be more accepting of flaws and imperfections, to patiently lie in wait until I find that perfect prey (or shot), to be quick and agile when I happen to come across one, and to let go of all my inhibitions and just let the wind carry me. In her company, I am immortalized. I'd found true love at last.
Earth & Sky
Photograph by Michelle
Hoops
Photograph by Michelle
Then I met Holga. She has a face of a child, a blue-and-yellow dress on that reminds me of a Disney princess, and eyes that can change their color at will. She is an immortal too, a minor goddess, a follower of Diana if you must. It is her duty to look for potential hunters around the world.
This is how I sleep (This is how... Series)
Photograph by Michelle
Angel
Photograph by Michelle
She showed me different tricks I could do with my bow and arrows (or films), tricks I never thought I could do. Holga showed me that with imagination and a little faith comes limitless possibilities. Because of that, I am her sister-in-arms forever.
That Old Radio
Photograph by Michelle
21 February 2010
Photographs: Play (digital)
20 February 2010
14 February 2010
Photographs: Sailboat by the Window (from the House Series)
Photography by Michelle
"My body's at home but my heart's in the wind..." - Shiver Me Timbers, Bette Midler
08 February 2010
Poetry: Apathy
nothing suggests that he has much
this half-crazed man with an unlit cigarette in his hand
too offensively malodorous to even so much as touch
his blonde beard hanging unruly down his chin
he nervously paces unceasing back and forth
turkey-dancing and chanting some words i could not hear
my interest is sparked to learn his story, whatever that's worth
for you see, i just could not be bothered
04 February 2010
Photographs: Chaos (from the Garden Series)
Photograph by Michelle"Color my life with the chaos of trouble cos anything's better than posh isolation." - Belle & Sebastian
03 February 2010
Photographs: Smell the Flowers (digital)
Photograph by Michelle
If you are disillusioned, slow down and smell the flowers...
Self-Quotations
"You know there's no hope for the world when those who can't sing well have stopped singing altogether."
Short Shorts: Untitled #1
I am at a bus stop, waiting for the bus that takes me back to the valley. I am exhausted from the hectic week before and on the verge of a major burnout. A cigarette is burning at its leisure between my fingers and Chickfactor is playing in my ears but both are temporarily forgotten while my mind wanders off to its usual happy place, a habit I have acquired since realizing that my life is mundane and uneventful.
A dry and croaky dwarflike laugh interrupts my pleasant thoughts and I reluctantly turn towards the source, which it turns out, is a plump and unattractive Filipino woman very much in the prime of her mid-life crisis. She is wearing a silly smile and is jumping – in a manner I can only describe as a sort of indigenous tribal dance – her way towards an even older white man. It doesn’t surprise me that he is fairly attractive or at least he must have been when he was young. It’s a typical pairing these days. He is armed with a cane, which is, I give you ten to one, for his arthritis and is eagerly waiting to be engulfed in her flabby, wrinkly arms. As they embrace and kiss, his caneless hand resting perilously close to her equally flabby and very possibly equally wrinkly bottom, I cringe and look away in horror.
You know when you see an old couple slowly progressing down a street as they hold each other’s hands and you think to yourself that is a scene more worthy to be hung in museums than most impressionistic paintings out there. Well, this isn’t one of those moments.
A man in his thirties, who I presume is her son, joins them shortly. Without so much as a glint of acknowledgement to his mother’s, err, boyfriend interestingly enough, he exchanges a few words with her. He leaves a few minutes after, again without acknowledging the boyfriend.
The couple rub their noses together, happy to be alone again. Well, not alone obviously but I might as well be an insignificant speck of dust as far as they’re concerned. They’re like teenagers who desperately want to sneak a few forbidden moments before going home to their nagging mothers and their indifferent, workaholic fathers; except they’re decades older, their skins have lost elasticity and their parents are long gone. They smile into each other’s eyes, deluded into thinking they're in love when in reality they’re both probably just desperate for attention.
They get up to leave after a few more minutes of impropriety. They pass me, hand-in-hand if you must, and I am left to wait for the bus alone.
Disgusted though I am, I smile too.
It’s my first real smile of the day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)