PASTA

In the Wee Small Hours of the Morning

In College, Local, Photography on October 12, 2010 at 6:52 pm

I don’t know what strange gene is responsible for my irresistible urge to shoot bizarre photography. Some might call it ADD.

The other night, I decided to go on a little field trip. My initial goal was to take pictures of hobos, however, to my extreme disdain, I couldn’t find any.

San Diego’s Ocean Beach must have a large nocturnally migratory homeless population. This is the only explanation I can attribute to the lack of usual street urchins that slump themselves into parking lot corners of OB and resemble sand bags.

But, not to worry, homeless people are not the only ones who wander the streets late at night in populated cities. If you were under this impression than you certainly forgot about the wine-o’s, Rastafarians, club hoppers, bizarre middle-aged couples who look like they regularly share cocaine, tatted up dudes with a contempt for authority, and your standard “ball twirler” guys who all wander the streets.

It took hard work to change these peoples skepticism of my photography. One alcohol-saturated individual- who’s portrait would have been the absolute gem of my pilgrimage, gracefully declined (“get that f***ing camera away from me before I kill you”) my attempts at capturing his essence through the lens. Despite the absence of this charming mans contribution to the album, I hope you enjoy the fruits of my labor.

Christian is an interesting fellow.

When I expressed interest in his tattoos, he was quick to bust out this bad boy. On his calf is the name of his son. I always said contrast was good for a person…

Contrast?

Typical.

I was hesitant to let him ride my bike at first.

Most likely a crack head.

Graffiti.

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  1. David – I love your curiosity and your anxiousness that you might be missing something “out there.” You are an artist at heart….keep up the photos, the music the writing and find a way to mix them together to let others (us) see and find a different perspective on humantiy, we oldies get comfortable…you are not afraid to be un-comfortable… work with that while you can…make us a bit uncomfortable. love you, nanc

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