August 3, 2012

Most stories never get told.

Tonight I watch her dance back and forth to put him to sleep, in perfect light making a perfect picture that no camera could capture, his hair sticking straight up int he middle and his face melted on her shoulder. Today is a rough day for little man with his 9 month visit to the doctor and his teeth coming in and his slight cold caught from or with his dad and his dad off partying, he hasn't had the easiest day. Yesterday his mother fed him cheese and cauliflower and he had a hard time falling asleep. Today I took him to the neighbor Kristin's going away party and he is having a hard time falling asleep, though today is due to the teeth, most likely.

Earlier, after work, I met my photographer friend Justin at his downtown loft after working. He was finishing up some baseball pictures from Monday and we chatted about the philosophy of stock (royalty-producing) images. He has a good thoughtful approach. He wants "pictures in the system" of each player. His pictures are good.

Justin and I walked to the new beer bar. It is a good bar, busy but not crowded. We sit at the end of the bar. I pick the location because of the inevitable traffic. I talk to the women and the men and I share some wisdom with young Justin. The first words you say to a new woman, I tell Justin, aren't to prove to her that you are special; the first words are simply a question: do you want to have a quick chat? If she answers in the affirmative, say the next thing that comes into your head. Flirting is not an exchange of ideas; it is a dueling fireball juggling match.

This evening we meet no one special but we enjoy two delicious beers each. I finish his beer as he goes off to meet a client. I would later hear back about the meeting, that the guy was a little odd. I don't know whether or not to hope he gets the gig.

Neighbor Kristin is moving away, and we celebrate her absence from the Kitchen at Scott and Hanna's. Some young impressionable guy from Chicago named Lucas is aggressively seeking something. I Support him in his quest. He insist that I come out with them to the bars, and he insists that I sleep on his couch. I have a mot and BMX ride in the morning, I tell him, no worries, he tells me back. He'll get my ass up off the couch. I go ahead and go home, and Dawson is just needing a bit more love before he can fall asleep. We give it to him and I sit back and write it all up real quick.