As seen in this image, and I’m unsure of any of the back story, or, for that matter, what happened. I liked what I saw the first time, looked like an old-time cafe, the inspired yet insipid tile-work on the front of the building, reminded me of an era gone by. Long gone.
The building is now gone. Disappeared. And once again, I seem to chronicle urban decay and rejuvenation, usually focussing on the decay.
Haven’t had a girlfriend complain yet, though, about me liking old stuff.
This is not a photo opportunity:
How the inscription read.
Made me pause, as I was editing the San Antonio pictures, in as much as I edit anything. That website was born out of a - to me - bizarre collection of images. More a jumbled mess and less along any thematic line, other than all occurring within the confines of Bexar County.
Strange, to me, the original idea was prompted by an advertising company that sought to embed adverts in web images. What’s the ironic part? I don’t use that advertising anymore. Great idea, didn’t work. Didn’t make enough off the advertising alone. Which was the problem with that way of trying to make any of this pay.
The hardest part, the most difficult piece to the puzzle, the part that I struggle with the most?
It’s supposed to be a (web) photo gallery. Nothing more. No text. No writing long-winded explanations about what the image really is, what it means, what it meant to me, what was ironic, what the weather conditions were, what kind of equipment was used, nothing.
Equipment? That was part of the challenge. My first digital camera was a plug-in phone module. I moved up to a cheap ($100) camera and I’ve gone through approximately a half-dozen of those cheap cameras. I’m hard on equipment. But that’s also the joy of having a camera ready when those unlikely opportunities arise.
The real challenge, other than, maybe, a few keywords? Don’t write anything about the image. Let the picture tell its story.
That gets close to impossible for me, hence a (self-imposed) limitation. Just a little restraint serves to strengthen the art itself.
Never underestimate how much fun it is to mess with one’s own head, too.
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Not n original and not an item I would endorse, but hey, it was darkly amusing to me.
A marriage license should be like a fishing license - it expires every year and if you go out of state you can get a 3 day license. If you think about it girls and fish have a lot in common. They are fun to catch and if you clean and prep them right most are good to eat. Also if you decide to mount one you know it’s going to cost you plenty! If you bring one home (no matter how well you treat them) they start going bad & fresh ones are always better. Practice CATCH and RELEASE.
No, really, it’s not original. Attributed to some guy named “Larry.”
I would never.
Unrelated:
From a recent copy of the New Yorker Magazine?
To the editor of Playboy
December 21, 1962
Dear Sir,
I wish you hadn’t billed the debate between William Buckley and myself as a meeting between a conservative and a liberal. I don’t care if people call me a radical, a rebel, a red, a revolutionary, an outsider, an outlaw, a Bolshevik, an anarchist, a nihilist, or even a left conservative, but please don’t ever call me a liberal.
Yours,
Norman Mailer The New Yorker: October 6, 2008, page 57. (Article of Mailer’s collected letters.)
Image popped up again.
It’s visible here, here, here, and here.
It is enigmatic to me. Speaks to me on many levels, all at the same time, only, the images fail to capture the real essence of what’s there. It’s an abandoned gas station, from the golden era of automobiles and oil industry.
The good, old days.
Humble oils became something else, and along the way, as I understand it, places like that one station were left to rot. I believe the city owns the property now. Not two blocks north? There’s another abandoned gas station, probably a Texaco. Six blocks east? Maybe a little further? There’s station that’s been turned into a swanky coffee shop. And another block over from there? Same kind of station, turned into an art studio and office.
But this Humble Oils? In wan October afternoon, in the evening’s twilight, the sun sets early on this one station. The mighty Interstate (35). The traffic from Laredo roars by, the trucks’ air brakes for downtown traffic, and the dead station? Flanked by on ramps? Eclipsed.
Twice now, I’ve stumbled upon photographers toying with lenses and settings, trying to catch the essence of that image. Haven’t done it yet. Maybe we can never capture that sense. But if a picture can tell a story? I’ll keep trying. Maybe if I get it at dawn’s light, on a cold winter morning.
Laeti edimus qui nos subigant!
Two Meat Tuesday (the book)
(cure for the common horoscope)
Pink Cake A commonplace book.
Bexar County Line
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The weekly audio forecast is available here, and the video is part of the subscriber service.
Chains:
Not all of them interest me. However, there are few in this listing of the original locations (and ideas) for the start of the big chains.
Important and missing from that list? Taco Cabana and What-a-Burger.
Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist:
Romantic comedy that was, in places, funny. Girl dumps guy, other girl likes the guy who got dumped based upon aesthetic choices, and much hilarity ensues.
Or not.
It’s that slightly strained comedy and some of the funny stuff isn’t so funny, or maybe, it’s just lost on me. Or maybe some of it is funny, but not in the usual way. Did anyone but me notice that the cars were probably older than the characters themselves? And is that unusual in this day and age, to have cars older than the high school students who drive those cars? Or is that just sticking point? Or maybe, is it irony? Only, I fail to see the irony in the juxtaposition, more like it was a little continuity problem. Or maybe I wasn’t amused enough to see how it was - or wasn’t - funny.
To be honest, I enjoyed the ride. My expectations were low, too. Little product placement, but it was more about what’s really there, and the guy, making CD after CD, each with a theme? Who among us (male) hasn’t felt that pang? Especially in high school?
No direct parents that I recall, just some pictures, sort of, and there was one toilet scene, I’m sure, it was a visual rip-off from Scotland. Think: Trainspotting. The allusion is wholly unrelated to the introductory monologue, which is classic in its own right, but that’s not what this is about. Or that toilet joke. Which did add some sticky continuity.
It was a good film, in its own way, light on the comedy, and easy on the eyes while a little heavy on the audio track. Which made me wonder, too, as there was a solid soundtrack, and I could identify maybe two of the artists - one was an obvious give away, and the other was just fluke, one of my friend’s kids had introduced me to the music.
I was going to tie this to astrology, as in, Mercury is backwards and I needed something to keep me off the streets, so to speak, but that’s not really doable. Then there was the inside joke, bit of a stretch, the actor’s name Cera and the movie name Juno, and that all hints at asteroids. Can’t really work that joke in, either.
I’m too far removed from the moment to understand all the emotional pain, teenage angst, anymore. But the story line, the plot, the elements, for me, moved at a stately and almost elegant pace without too much cinematic effects to drive the film.
I wondered about the music, a bunch of indie rock, and I wondered about the antecedents for the story. There was, at one point, so I’ve surmised, an attempt at a viral marketing campaign, but observant and disenfranchised - cynical - youth see through that pretty quickly. Which doesn’t stop it from being a harmless afternoon entertainment.
That, and near as I could tell, I was the oldest guy in the afternoon’s audience.
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