this needs no title -

(click on the picture to see bigger)
this is what i see every morning.

i'm a lucky man.

oh yeah, that's right. i'm badASS.

24

maybe THIS will keep them away from me in stores.

and food courts. and just generally, well, anywhere.

et vous, people? et tu?

sorry about that (part the first) -

i'm stealing this post idea from whiskeymarie,
but i already apologized for it on her blog,
so i'm in the karmic clear here.

in an effort to reboot the blog
(not that there was anything at all wrong with it, but some of you pointed out you liked it when i TALKED occasionally rather than just posting lots of pictures, and then there was this other thing that some of you might be able to figure out, but i'm not allowed to talk about, so i won't, and i'm not, because it might lead down an ugly path involving kerosene and . . . let's say i'm talking more in an effort to focus on some positive energy. white light IN, disbelief at the randomness of people OUT . . .)
i am going to try and talk about things that shape my world.

god, tangent much, landis?

so this is an effort to make amends for some of the things i've done wrong in my life,
but haven't so much made an effort to apologize or make amends for.

huh.

gimme a minute.

ok. wait. got one.


1) to john in college, captain of the men's heavyweight crew team and really beautiful writer:

sorry that once you started the torrid affair with me in creative writing class, all big sinewy blondness and longing glances followed by awkward knee touching and art movies, followed by dinners on the floor and intense making out, followed by a few blissful secretive weeks, followed by xmas break, followed by you showing up in the next semester's class fondling the bimbo we used to make fun of, followed by you being unable to make eye contact or answer my calls . . . (ok, here's the apology part) sorry that i felt it necessary to write a thirty page thinly veiled allegory about our relationship and hand it in for the class to read and critique in front of you.

and sorry (seriously) that your then girlfriend was so dimwitted that she actually came up to me after and told me how good my story was because you had been crying for two days and that you were sick and that's why you weren't in class. that actually made me feel sick. on many levels.

not regretful. kind of sick. 'cause i think i still missed you.

oh, and sorry that when, a year later, you came up to me and told me that you regretted a lot of what you had done in your past and were in AA and would love to "get together to talk it out" while your still kind of dim girlfriend stood beside you and grinned at me, that i kind of cold-shouldered you and left the bar and never spoke to or about you again.

wow.

this is kind of harder than i thought.

i can SO see your eyes that night in the Pines, and how your legs kept moving to either side of mine, trying to touch, and how kristen (god, was that her name?) kept talking to her blonde friend. and only looking back did i realize you were reaching out, a year too late.

ah.

college love. SO rife with poetic tragedy and heartache.

john, i hope you found some happiness. i hope you wrote that book you always wanted to.

just wanted you to know.

lest you think les pups are docile -

that's right. i used the word "lest". deal.

here, they show their true natures.

eager.

and stubborn.

and eagerer:

things you should know about tim johnson -

tim is a consummate gift-giver.

no, not just good.

penultimate good. defies superlative good.

freaking irritatingly good.

yoplait yogurt girls at a table good.

example:

when we were first dating, i mentioned to him that i loved fashion photography. we had purchased our first piece of art "together" (that critical step when you go from being people who happen to have stuff in the same apartment to people who have to hammer out their aesthetic differences and pick something as a couple), a herb ritts photograph of vladimir the acrobat from cirque du soleil. i was working at an ad agency, and thinking about my future, wondering where to go with things, and had thought that fashion photography would combine the best of all worlds for me. fashion. photos. art. fun.

that christmas, i bought tim the most beautiful moss green gucci cashmere coat. it was like a pelt, like snow in weight, with a lining that shimmered like the underside of a magnolia leaf. it was perfect because he tried it on, but had done the whole "it's too much" thing and handed it back to the salesperson.

i pounced.

xmas morning, he hands me a box. inside is a full nikon camera system, with lenses. elaborate, technical, and completely baffling. i looked up at him blankly.

"well," he said "i remembered how you said you loved fashion photography, and i want you to be able to follow your dreams, really explore your potential, so i got you this system, and nine weeks of personal camera lessons. so you can decide if you want to really follow this."

uh huh.

so I was like:

"here. i got you a coat."