Following the third year of a holiday letter comprised
of my (increasingly complex) life via a (increasingly complex) year-in-photographs, I
wondered what it would be like to join the great experiment of 365 days of photographs.
I'm not a photographer,
I'm a writer. I'm a visual thinker, and if ever there was proof that a photo is worth a
thousand words, it would be the story a photo tells me, or in this case, about me.
Follow me on this adventure, where I
learn about photography, my ability to record my life, my dedication to something (I've
never been known for doing anything everyday) in my posts. I've also discovered I'm
learning about time, the history of it, and the odd practice of recording it, measuring it,
turning it into something tangible, and I'll record these explorations in the sidebar.
As always, feel free
to say anything. My experiment is not a spectator sport.

June 2, 2009

June 02 2009 Everything That Isn't Me

Mornings every-other-Tuesday mean rolling out of bed and rounding up all the recycle from around the house, and frequently Monday nights included entertainment that left beer bottles scattered from the back yard to the front porch, so the round-up can take anywhere up to a half-an-hour. There always seems to be a sense of relief, though, when I come home to find the bins stacked nicely by my front steps after the recycling crew came by to pick everything up.

One of my handles is "imarecycleitall" and it's not for no reason. I don't recycle because it will make the world go round, but because I like the idea that things can be made from other things. Once upon a time there was no landfill infrastructure, everything was used, re-used, repaired, re-purposed, until it decayed. Even bottles could be returned.* I just finished a glass of juice from a bottle with a return deposit from a local winery. I like the inventiveness of reuse.

Older camera with lens adjustment problems cannot focus on its own, so I used portrait setting and adjusted my distance for focus. Kind of an interesting experience.

* Colorado doesn't have deposits on bottles like Michigan, though I can't say I miss hauling my smelly, sticky bottles and cans to the grocery store before buying food. Just so...unappetizing.

1 comment:

supermadchen said...

Oh the joys of saving bottles for the deposit back. I've learned of that in Hawaii. And it has seriously curbed my bottled beverage consumption.