To merely call my old college buddy a photographer is to understate things a bit. Jeff Bosie, the aforementioned buddy, is a real photographic artist. I had just been bragging about Jeff’s ability to a co-worker just last week, and oddly enough yesterday Jeff sent out a mass email yesterday announcing some updates to his website. So I took the opportunity to click on over and check out the newest additions as well as some of my old faves — three of which are hanging on the walls of my home.

It’s great stuff. I was glad to be able to attend a show of his in Perth Amboy, NJ back when Brenda & I still lived in Jersey. Brenda was so impressed with Jeff’s work that she put Jeff in touch with her bosses at the George Street Playhouse, who hosted a showing for Jeff during one of the performance runs at the Playhouse.

I really can’t say enough about Jeff’s work. To me, it’s inspiring; it’s the kind of photography I imagine myself striving to do, even if my own photos do not back that assertion up. If anything, my latest trip to Jeff’s website just fueled that passion to capture our world and tell a story, without saying a single word. Bravo, Jeff!

• Jeff Bosie Photography
• Jeff Bosie Photography - News Page

And be sure and check out his latest photo essay “Through the Cracks”, which, unfortunately, will break your heart.

This is cool. What we got here is the last remnants of the 8” of snow that dumped on Boulder yesterday. The Colorado sun came out in force today, melting most of the white stuff; the final traces are hanging tough here in the shadow cast by the ballfield fence, all nice and neat in a line, while Hooper and Lulu watch in despair as Jeannie and the other woman walk away with their dogs Joplin and Kyla:

Just goes to show you what a little shading can do in terms of reducing the amount of direct beam solar radiation that affects a given area.

P.S.
The bits of snow missing in the foreground were eaten by Hooper. No shading device could have prevented that.

With my new website layout came a nifty rotating masthead image capability, so I created a gallery page that shows them all, with descriptions, in case anyone cares.

Check it out: rumblestrip Masthead Image Gallery

Well, it sure took me a while, but I finally uploaded my pictures from the trip Brenda, my Mom-in-law, and I took to Paris this past May. Titles and captions are still spotty at best, but the album is in chronological order and it gives you a good feel for where we went, and what we saw. What a great trip.

Paris Photo Album

OK, I know it’s been a while. Here is what’s on my mind:

• When you own a dog, you clean more than ever, and yet your place is generally messier.
• It’s snowing on the high peaks. Winter is just about here. While I like the look of the mountains with the snow on them, I’m dreading the thought of a winter like we had last year here in Boulder.
• The Colorado Rockies (baseball club) are absolutely tearing it up, and they remind me of the Phillies of 1993, another team of lower-paid gamers who ended up playing like a team instead of a collection of overpaid egos. I’ll be rooting for a National League team this year in the World Series.
• Speaking of baseball, I would love to see the Red Sox fold like the bunch of pussies that they are. They should already be declared the losers of the ALCS simply for Manny Ramirez’s bullshit posturing when he hit that home run last night. Sorry, I just fucking hate that guy. Actually, I’m not sorry. He is a douchebag.
• Speaking of baseball, who’s idea was it to have Dane Cook do ads for major league baseball!? I truly believe I’d rather watch Carrot Top try and generate enthusiasm for the game than this no-talent ass wipe.
• I got a new camera; just wait ‘till you see the incredible pictures.
• I saw my sister and my brother-in-law.
• Things are generally good.

Brenda turned forty yesterday (happy birthday again, Brenda!), and you know what that means, ROAD TRIP!

Yesterday we rolled out of Boulder many hours late, the end result of Brenda being busy with work, my inability to do laundry, and the need to get Hooper up to the kennel in Longmont. But we had a nice drive over the mountains while listening to the Rockies beat the Phillies (more on this whole baseball madness later), and ended up in Grand Junction, CO as the sun was setting. We had a nice dinner in town and a nice breakfast at the B&B with a couple from Philly, of all places. Mountain bikers, to boot. Then we headed to the Colorado National Monument, which is just a few miles up the road from Grand Junction. It’s like a mini-Grand Canyon; it was interesting to start the hke by descending, rather than ascending, but great views awaited nonetheless. Down in the canyon we saw some Bighorn Sheep:

…and lots of other images that need to get downloaded off my camera.

Back at the B&B, we popped open some champagne and watched the sunset; a severe thunderstorm was in the vicinity as the Yankees were having their asses handed to them by the goddamned Indians. I took some pictures of a sunset:

Tomorrow, we roll out southbound, headed for Durango, and will ultimately rendezvous with my sister and bother in-law in Santa Fe, NM in a couple days. Yeah!

Best dog picture ever, for now:

About a week or so ago, I received a flyer in the mail announcing the coming of the Liberty Belle — a restored, airworthy, Boeing B-17 bomber dating from World War II. She was going to be at nearby Rocky Mountain Metro Airport (formerly known as Jefferson County Airport), right down the road. Rides would be available.

There are a handful of these flying specimens touring the country at any given time and they serve to remind people of the sacrifices made by the so-called Greatest Generation and to preserve the legend of these magnificent aircraft. The usual deal is you make a reservation to fly in the thing, pay your money (in this case, $450 for a 30-minute flight), and enjoy a very unique aviation experience. The money goes toward offsetting the enormous operating costs associated with flying a four engine heavy bomber manufactured over sixty years ago — when the word “hybrid” was never applied to an automobile — while you get to launch into the wild blue yonder in a piece of friggin’ history. Not a bad deal, considering. The typical passenger profile ranges from curious thrillseeker, to aging veteran, to child of some crewmember who never made it back from those very dangerous skies over Europe in the early 1940’s, when the B-17 — A.K.A. the “Flying Fortress” — was plying her trade. I’ve seen video interviews of passengers filmed during and after these flights, and their testimonies are always enlightening, but the ones from the kids of these crewmembers will always, always make you a little misty.

Now, $450 for a half-hour ride is a little rich for my blood, especially for a flight wherein I don’t get to actually fly the damned thing. So I immediately opted out, but I stuffed the date in the back of my head. After all, I had already mentally mapped out the ideal flight plan for a 30-minute sightseeing flight from Jeffco, and it would have taken the flight northwest, directly toward Boulder, then along the Front Range toward Longmont, and then, with a nice sweeping turn back to the southeast, back toward the point of origin.

And that’s exactly what the Liberty Belle did, all day today.

This morning, around 9:30 AM, I was sitting in my living room sipping coffee and reading email when I heard a sound that I never hear around here. It was the rhythmic, synchronized, throaty thrum of four Wright Cyclone air-cooled, piston-powered aircraft engines. I immediately recalled the flyer I had received, realized today was the day, and ran to the window. And there she was:

The Liberty Belle, now showing in Boulder, Colorado! I grabbed my camera and ran from my deck to the front porch like a maniac every time the plane came by on another run. Seeing the object of one of my many infatuations flying past the mountains that have become my latest love was nothing short of breathtaking. I took a few shots, that will appear to most as pictures of mountains with a speck in the sky. But I know what that speck is, and now so do you.

Here’s the photo album: B-17 Over Boulder

I went for a bike ride shortly after the third run, but the ‘Belle continued to fly, and I annoyed my riding companions every time she flew by, imploring them all to look up and watch this magnificent assemblage lumber past. If you’re in the area and are so inclined, the ‘Belle flies again tomorrow. I’m hoping for better sky conditions and the chance for a few more pictures, myself.

Today Brenda & I got up to Brainard Lake for some snowshoe hiking. It’s nice to be able to access some of the trails we liked in the summer, and snowshoes allow us to do that. We got our snowshoes all the way back in October, and we used them exactly once — long enough to figure out that we needed some waterproof pants to enjoy ourselves up there. Between then and now, we had lots of blizzards and Brenda was very busy with work, so we have not gotten a chance to get back out there until this weekend.

It was worth the wait; we hiked on the snowshoe-only trail up to Brainard Lake, which afforded great views of Mount Audubon which we had hiked last summer. The deafening silence of the woods is muffled further by the snow, and the blanket of white everywhere lends a new feel to a familiar trail. I hope to get some more snowshoe hikes in before the end of the season, but I gotta tell ya, some other outdoor enthusiasts caught my eye: cross-country skiers.

Gliding along the snow with their long skinny skis, these people seemed to be having a lot of fun as I plodded along in my big clunky snowshoes. I think this is next on the list of things to try. Meanwhile, here’s a link to some photos from today:

Snowshoe Hiking Photo Album

I came across this very interesting art piece, by way of Kottke’s website. It upset me.

First of all, this guy is essentially ripping off Walker Evans. Walker did it better, far better, and he did it seventy friggin’ years ago. But there’s more to this story.

The Walker Evans photos from his 1938 project are really haunting because they were taken with a hidden camera; they capture the very souls of New Yorkers trying to endure the daily grind of city life. These Bill Sullivan photos are more in the “caught on camera” vein, which is a little more obvious — more supermarket tabloid work than photographic art, and it annoys me that this is being peddled as the latter.

But the really disturbing thing is that all the people in the Sullivan piece look either really tired, really pissed off, really harried, or some combination of the three (Except for the dude walking through the turnstile with a brand new pair of Skyway TuffWheels (and you can’t help but feel happy for that guy (where in the hell did he find those gems, anyway?))).

Those turnstile photos reminded me of my life as a New Jerseyite commuting to Manhattan every day, and my daily experiences ebbing and flowing amidst the many different kinds of wildlife calling New York City home. Honestly, in retrospect, I hated it, and these photos illustrate quite well the mood of the average New Yorker: the “what are you lookin’ at”, the “ugh”, the I can’t take much more of this”, the “why am I doing this”, the “there’s got to be something better”; the “go fuck yourself”.

Well, after a year and a half of living 2,000 miles from New York City, I can say that there is something better, and that I wouldn’t trade this for the world, despite all the goddamned snow.