I am a photographer/drunk/writer/addict/warrior/mercenary


I love being a photographer. Everyone loves having their picture taken…when they are ready. I get amazing pictures of couples brewing their coffee or giving their vows. Seriously, it’s the easiest thing in the world to take pictures of the world as it wants to be seen.

Unfortunately, that’s not what makes a photographer. The photos that really capture the essence of humanity; what it feels like to really BE ALIVE are not so easily captured. I’m not even good enough a photographer to know what sorts of people will consistently capture that photo and share it with you. I’m sure they must be great.

I’m not even good enough a writer. The feeling of missing the love of your life while hearing the rain fall on the veranda and wishing it could be shared is a mercenary adventure. We don’t do things for money, or blood lust, or what ever you heard a warrior say once.

I wish I could capture the beautiful moments in conflict scenarios and share them with my wife. She is the most important thing in the world, yet, I am half a world away doing the only thing that I can do well. She should hear the pitter-patter of rain that must be an ounce per drop.

This is the weather that calms me. Even if for no other reason that nothing can be heard but the thunder and rain. I must relax. If you snuck upon me in this, I’d be utterly defenseless. Only this, and if only, I’d want to share with you. The sound of the storm leave me at your mercy.

A haiku of love and storm (see Flickr photostream at right):

Rain pounds tile and cashews,
Despite my hard candy shell,
Monkeys frolic outdoors.

Wife: I wish you were here. I wish I loved teaching as you do. I wish you loved executing the unsuspecting as I do. In the meantime, let’s go see Spider-man on Broadway.

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