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Pounding head, in the AM.... Which town, which bed am I in, anyway? Oh, yeah... somewhere else. The required regimen to get jump started: coffee blacker than the abyss; three strong cigarettes; the cold slap of reality that is the Wash*ngton Post. Still got the headache, regardless. With just a couple of hours before slapping on the chains of digital servitude, I set out to find some missing pieces to the camera... (polarizer, lens cap, remote... for a camera?) going by information that Mr. Know-It-All (ex-landlord) had gifted me, about a hole-in-the-wall shop on the way to work. My favorite kind. Literally, stuff strewn everywhere. Rare cameras stacked upon one another in counters. Lenses lined up, under glass, like warheads. Not a square inch of wall space not covered with something. And... the geeks. Every pursuit known to man has its hobbyists... who know far too much to relate to fellow humans. And can seldom relate to fellow humans, who know less. Trekkies... Netheads... Record/Comic store employees... some musicians... and these guys. Camera guys are the original geeks... specs to know, minds to blow. Image-conscious Lone Gunman-types. I'm no stranger to photography--but my interests lie more with what I can compose in the frame than what hardware makes it happen. But, to put simply your needs to the chosen few with a whole different vocabulary... ah, that's the stuff of sweat. All things considered, they went light on me... the best defense, not pretending to profess geekdom. If it's necessary to act stupid to walk out with what I went in to buy... fine. I just wanna take good pictures... and can spend hours looking at others' compositions. Screw that, "dogs-sniffing-other-dogs'-behinds" routine. Besides, those types live to lampoon the "supposed" expert. Have at it, lads. Gotta go. Got images to preserve. Love that chaotic store, though. |
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