Saturday, September 29, 2007

Camera bowling fire.

I hate cameras. Really. That may sound strange coming from someone who just wants to take pictures 24 hours a day, but it's true. If we could eliminate that camera from the chain of actions that results in a pictures hanging on your wall, I would be okay with that world. I do, however, like lenses.

I tried to prove my theory about how the better bowlers grew up outside a major metropolitan area, but apparently there were enough bowling alleys in NYC to prove me wrong. I do, however, think the pool sharks are born and bred.

I broke a camera that night. I picked it up off my couch, but the strap was caught, and catapulted the camera out of my hand, and straight down into the floor, lens first. The lens seemed fine, as did the camera, so I loaded and packed it for the trip to the bowling alley. Once out of the subway, I found the meter didn't work. I still used it, and everything on the one roll I developed came out fine.

But I was disappointed in the bowling alley. I love the clean bright look and all the geometry of bowling alleys. That is until someone had the bright idea to make it really dark, add disco lights and florescent UV tubes, and blast dance hits of the 70s. I forgot how to bowl, so I lurked around the other lanes to get a few pointers. Everyone sucked,

About ten minutes after getting home from tonight's late night post-work debriefing, the fire engines showed up. I'm sure it was a jumpy new tenant who called, as I knew exactly what it was, and so did the mom in 22 who's been here longer than I. The heat came on for the first time since last winter, and the contractors working in 12 left a radiator off a pipe, making a sauna, making it look like smoke was billowing from the windows. I went down to confirm the firemen's suspicions of it being steam, and see if I could help answer any questions. They broke through the door and turned off the open valve. We exchanged thank yous and good nights.


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