Since I'm going to spend the greater part of tomorrow working

I'm going to spend at least some of today outside in the sunshine. It's a good day for it. I spent all day yesterday sitting inside on my ass. I was reading, which is good, but I really wish I'd gotten out a little, so now, here I go. Before I head out, random picture:

I need a job.

Seriously, I'm tired of being broke all the time. That's all.

our post for today is brought to you by...

t-bone steak and some cheap red wine. If my life were any more awesome, I'd have to get a license.


Friday was good in general, and specifically because I went beck to the arts fest, and then later on out with some new friends. Arts fest was cool; I was less of a chickenshit and shot more looking through the viewfinder. Then I called up Sabrina, asked what she was up to later, she was doing a bunch of stuff, but she would call me when things were happening.


So, I went home, chilled, mom came home, I started to take a nap. Just as I was really falling asleep, the phone rang, 'Rina and some peeps were at Logan's roadhouse, and I should join them.


Ten minutes later, I'm there, and who's hanging out but Pixie, Chris, Sabrina, and cool dude who's name I can't remember. If he weren't cool, I'd just say dude. I remember he's celibate, by choice, and maybe one of the most thoughtful people I've ever met. All present were cool, and it turned interesting.

Pixie is this super boisterous wonderful hotchick who I'd met briefly before, but she was blacked out, so this was one of those sort of first meetings. She's tough, been to the wars. Supposed to teach me tantra, although she was drunk when she said that so I won't hold her to it. That, and I'm not sure about our respective situations re: other partners. It would be fun, just some good sex, but really, I'm waiting for Jess. (Edit: life is complicated but good).


So, drinking ensued, and continued until about 1:30 (we had moved locations several times, and ended up at a pizza joint in the paseo). Stop for beer/gum, and then we went to Pixie's house, where there was some beer drinking and some tv, and then Sabrina and cool dude left, pixie fell asleep on the couch, so I downed my beer and said my goodnight. Hey, there's something to be said for being a gentleman, even now.

MORE Pictures! The first one is Pixie, the second is this creepy wax sculpture. You can figure out the rest on your own time.

okc art fest, #1

I'm going back today, but I thought I'd just throw up some pictures from yesterday.



This image is stuck in my head. I'm gonna go beat it out with sunlight and wide angles.

blogging is a sport for the morning...

Here I am, it's morning, hello everyone. Been a bit since I rapped at ya, been busy. Every thing is up in the air, and with a little luck, I'll keep it all that way. All china and razor blades, flying around my head, propelled there by me.

I'm so incredibly stoked about Gestalt it's not even funny. Every single one of the editors are singularly amazing, and I'm glad as hell they're working with me. Hey, sometimes to get the best people all you have to do is ask them. We had our first meeting on tuesday, and it was a blast. They've all got great ideas, and they're on board for the direction I'd like to see the magazine go in, in terms of how it's run and whatnot. So that's great. Deadline for the first issue is next wednesday.

I haven't been wandering about as much of late, mostly because my longtime wandering partner has been busy. Today, though, there is the arts fest, which should be great. I'm gonna go down and see what kind of trouble I can get myself into. now, photos.

When I saw these pieces of pipe cut, I thought they must have a macine to make the edges so even; turns out that's just how well my dad can use a torch.


This is the dude that won, TIG welding.
Georgie, waiting for the winners to be announced.


And the Winner is... Erica.
That's all for now. More stuff amd more interesting photos later.

Like something out of a sci-fi novel, I came home and found myself already in my bed. What the hell?

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

Other me sat up in bed. "I'm here from the future. I need to tell you something very important."

"What? ok, you're from the future. What kind of day will I have tommorow, so I know you're on the level?"

"You'll wake up, go pick up lora for sodas, go have the meeting with only three editors, and then... well, that's what i'm here to-"

And then he dissappeared. Yeah, this didn't really happen. I just didn't feel like putting up pictures right now, feeling lazy. have fun without me, internet.

Weird situations...

They seem to just keep cropping up. I'm up to my eyes in weird shit lately. First there was my case of the weirds last thursday (or was it friday? I'm too lazy to check), then there was the apprenticeship contest saturday, then there was a beauty pageant saturday night, and now Lora's not answering texts, even though we were supposed to have an editors meeting. Strange but true.

First, the apprenticeship contest. My dad asked me Friday morning if I wanted to go and photograph, ,and I said of course. I got up at 4am, after about 5 hours of sleep, and went to teh union school, where the contest was to be held. 90% of the guys that even bothered to be in the competition wee idiots. Every time I walked into the plumbing room, where all tha various plumbing tasks were happening, I got looks from about half the guys, like they didn't want me to be there. Oh well, I got my pictures.

I hope Mike likes 'em, though he told my dad in no unncertain terms that I was in the program. Just as I find out I have the opportunity to do photography (boring, mind-numbing photography, though), I have a sure job doing something else, something interesting. Hard work, sure, but there isn't a job in the world worth doing that isn't difficult in some way.

So there's that, and then there was this pageant. Mom's friend Georgie from work had her daughter in the Miss Hispanic UCO pageant, and she won. And since mom didn't want to go alone, and I think wild horses couldn't have dragged dad out to something like that, I went.

The organization of the program was shit, the MC was laughably bad, stuck to the script to thte detriment of the show, etc, etc. On the plus side, there were three very attractive ladies posing in also attractive outfits (including swimsuits), dancing four our entertainment, etc. Which made it a worthwhile outing. Now I've been at two major events in this girl's life, her quincinera, and now this pageant. Georgie had me come and photograph at the quincinera about four years ago.

And from there I went home and to bed. Weird dreams that I can't remember. I made brunch. eggs and bacon and home fries.

Grocery store with mom, dinner, out for coffee. Still reading don q, and it gets better as it goes. That's all Ive got for now. pics to follow when I feel like it later.

approaching 10k photos with my trusty 5d

Which means, that along with the other 5D I had and shot over 7,000 pictures with, I've shot more photos with this camera than any I've ever owned, since last August. Lightroom has the number of photos I've taken since I got back from brazil at a staggering 14,000. That's 389 rolls of film, at $4/roll, plus 4 for dev costs... $3112 that I haven't spent on film. Of course, I've spent far more than that on cameras, but really, who's to say that I would've had better luck with film cameras? Anyway, this is all just idle speculation. Now, some pictures. This is the lens that inspired the title of the post about being an artist....

This woman was feeding the ducks. Why? That's what tourists are for.
Obviously Important Businessmen.
The underground post office, with the sign.
The disoriented me in the disorienting tunnels. UNDERGROUND.
Now with Alice in wonderland Art:

More self portrait!
Glad to know someone finished kindergarten and counts.
Serious business.

So, I've decided that being aimless with my photography is pointless, and I need a project. A photo-project, an essay to commit myself to. More later, when I've had more time to think.

Today couldn't get better...

Well, it could, actually, but I don't think it's possible within the bounds of physics and or psychology. My lady, who could improve the situation, is 600 miles away, and there aren't any others. Did I mention the amazing French wine I got for ten bucks? Cote du rhone, no less.

Today started out really excellently. I woke up at 2am after 12 hours of sleep, more than I've gotten in almost a week. Then, I read some Don Quixote. Really, if you haven't read this book, you should. Not only for the hilarious moments, but for the ones in which you begin to wonder what is real and what isn't.

Coffee with the 'rents. Always a pleasure. Dad wants me to photograph at the Apprentice contest tomorrow. So, I'm getting up at 5am to go shoot pictures. So what else is new?

Then he and my mom go off to work, and I get glued to this short story collection, The Baum Plan for Financial Independence by John Kessel. Link goes to a free download page, because sometimes the good things just fly into your hands.

So, I pry myself away from the story and head out for adventure. Then I realize I left my outgoing mail on the corner of the desk, so I pull a u turn and go back for it. Then, back on track for adventure. Wherever the wind, my short supply of gas, and my legs will take me.

I parked at Bass Pro Shops downtown, and walked toward the city. I knew there had to be a post drop box somewhere in there. I mean, it's a city, right?

So I'm walking. I get through Bricktown, which is the entertainment district, and I'm in and among the few skyscrapers OKC has. None are terribly tall, but we at least have an honest skyline. Well, viewed from the east anyway. it kinda sucks from the west. I passed a hotel, asked a dude in a uniform if he knew where a post box would be. He looked at me like I was crazy, from mars or something, and well, to tell the truth, I felt like I was.

Lemme back up a little. As I stepped out of the house, I looked around and everything looked profoundly weird. The trees were trees and the grass was grass and the sky was still that faded hazy blue I know all too well, but it seemed like it shouldn't be that way. It was real as a slap in the face, but it seemed wrong, like false notes. And I didn't shake the feeling until much later in the day. It's not something you get used to so much as ignore until you forget.

Anyway, the bellhop didn't know where I coud mail my letters, but the concierge did, told me inside the frist national building, down the escalator, and off to the right. And what sould I find when I followed his directions but a full service post office? Very Nice.

So then I walked the tunnels that are under OKC for a little bit. I moved maybe five hundred yards along my route, going first east then north, getting lost, and finally deciding that I sould go to the surface, where I had better bearings.

As soon as I was back on the surface, I knew where I was, and struck off in the right direction. The Independent Artists' Alice show was up, and I want to smack whoever curated it in the face.

Don't get me wrong. There was some exceptional work in the show, some of it even good photography. But the problem is they let in everybody, so it seemed, and as much as a third was crap, and it didn't ever really gel for me as a show. It was a bunch of individual pieces on the wall, and they were in the same gallery, but there was no unity. I really liked some of the individual pieces, though. I'll throw some up when I throw photos up.

Then, since I was just around the corner, I went and got a coffee at Java Dave's and said hello to Lora. She was having a shitty day, too many assholes. To the assholes in the world: Be nice to the people that make your food and drinks, because they have a lot of opportunities to fuck with you and you'll never know about it.

From there, I wandered a bit more, then hitched a ride with Lora to my car, and came home. Talked to Dillon, he might have a job doing photo for me. Then I went to the liquor store with my dad, found the aforementioned wine, which I need another glass of. Photos to follow soon.

On being an artist...

So, my blog hero (because everybody needs something to aspire to) posted about telling kids to be an artist. I want to say, here and now, being an artist isn't all million dollar paintings and getting hot babes. Those are side effects, and not everybody gets 'em. Some of us are still broke our whole lives, just doing it because there isn't anything else we can do.

It ain't easy being an artist. There are always haters. Critics. People who see something good and just want to tear it down. The hard part is knowing when they're right and you suck and when you gotta just shake 'em off, and the answer is, they're always wrong. You know your faults better than anyone, they don't know shit.

Don't be an artist for the money. Don't do it for chicks, or for the image. Most artists don't have an image. The best ones are sort of humble and bashful when you try and tell them they're good. Don't be an artist because it gives you license. If you need a license, it isn't art. If you have to do it, if there's no way to stop whatever it is that comes out of you, that's art. You can't make art because you want to, you do it because you have to, because that little voice inside won't let you live and breathe and be at peace unless you're creating. You do it and do it and do it, and if you're lucky you know some people who get it, and if you're really really lucky some of those people will pay for it.

Don't be an artist unless you have a fanatically strong stubborn streak. The real test isn't who's selling for millions at the Tate or the Met or Southeby's, but who sticks to their guns, never admits failure, even though they've gotta take a shit job at the Post Office to cover the bills, they still do it, they turn that into their art.

It's not good going crazy, having stupid sleeping disorders that make it impossible to hold a regular job for more than 6 months, that make you want to run screaming into the night chasing after whoknowswhat. It's a special kind of madness, and it takes a huge wack of talent not to end up in the nuthouse walking that razorwire tightrope.

And there's no net. Inevitably you fall. Sometimes you flap your arms on the way down and hope, and sometimes because you are that creative motherfucker, because you belong up there, flying, you grow those wings, and astound the world.

So, if you wanna be an artist, bust it out or go back to school and find a nice safe life. This isn't nice and it isn't safe and it isn't stable. Here there be sleepless nights and crazy manic 72 hour sessions in the studio and the only way you can keep it together is because there's no other way for you to be.

On the other hand, artist chicks are hotter.

Now with photos!

At the bar last thursday...

Rock Band at the Chef's house...

What? Mexican Wrestlers? (I swear dude just showed up).

Puppy and sabrina. Why? Because I secretly love cliches.

Dude.

Rainbow.

Dad, in the grocery store? What is the world coming to?

so, there was once a man from nantucket

no, not really. No men have ever come out of Nantucket. /nonsense

But seriously, it's been a good couple of days. I'm getting editors all on the same page, all but one of us has a section we're responsible for, and things are going well in general for gestalt. Gestalt is the magazine I'm starting that anyone can write for.

Let's see, where did we leave off? Last Friday, I think it was. So, on friday, I woke up sore, sometime around three in the afternoon. did some vague things around the house, found the photos I've been promising Sabrina for forever, went over to Frankie's house to give them to her and hang out. Hung out there for a while, drank some beers. Talked a little about religion, and little innocent me, I just sat there with my mouth shut while dude was talking about his male christian conception of god, and how that was natural and innate in all of us. Sometimes it's better to just shut your mouth, and this was one of those times, because besides that little hitch, dude was pretty cool.

Let's see, other than that... had a boring saturday. Finally went to bed at around 4am, got up at 8:30. Blueberry muffins for breakfast, then we went to sams, where we bought a bed for my dad finally. Which means I have my room back.

Lets say that again: I HAVE MY ROOM BACK! YAY! Hey, if I can't shout from my stupid blog, where can I shout from?

So yeah, got most of my stuff into the room, organized a little, then I had to do yard work for a while. Mow grass and clear sticks and such. My knees are killing me today, but the rest of me is all right.

After that, 'cause we haven't seen each other in a few days, I went out to get coffee with Lora and hang out for a bit. She was in a weird mood, really distant. I was no help, because I was really happy about the room and talking to Jess earlier. I have a feeling what's wrong for Lora, but if I say it out loud it won't be true, even if it is. I was really tired while we were walking, from the yard work, and pulled out my phone to check it. I had to stare at it for a minute to make sense of what it was saying. Then I put it away, and Lora said something, I forget what, and I explained that I just couldn't make sense of the phone, had to stare at it for a second, but it still wouldn't resolve into something that I understood. And she said, yeah, I'm having one of those moments with my life right now. So yeah, I hope she's all right.

And after that, all I did was come home and drink bourbon. Despite my usual bad luck with that particular liquor, I was fine, finally went to bed at a reasonable time after almot two weeks of being fully nocturnal. Of course, then I woke up at 4:30 am. Now, pictures.

broke and still getting out...

It's good to have friends. It's even better to have friends that are close enough that they don't give a shit that you're broke, they want you to come out anyway. "You broke? It'sa no problem!" (in my best italian accent).

Thursday, I woke up and cleaned the kitchen. Then Dillon called, and he was working on his house. Bro is 23, has two houses, has the second hottest girl of anyone I know, doing well for himself. Anyway, he was wondering if maybe I wanted to come over and see the place, and I said, sure.

The house is in a depreciated area; not the ghetto, but just a couple blocks north of it. Hardwood floors, rather small really. Nice workshop out back. He was taping off everything in the house that wasn't getting painted, and me being me, I picked up a roll of tape and helped.

After about 6 hours of that, we went to this bar over on the north side of town, and damned if I can remember the name. 63rd and may, well, north of 63rd about a hundred yards. The waitress was nice but royally screwed the tabs, and for some reason I couldn't make a shot to save my life. This is different from my normal pool playing, where I can hold my own.

From there, when the bar closed, there was the required beer stop and then a very fast drive to an apartment where two of the guys that were with us at the bar lived. For some reason a lot of these kids drive souped up cars. Anyway, one of the guys is a chef, and he produced a morel mushroom, which I had to try. When a chef at a five star tells you something is the best, it's a rule, you've gotta try it. (I once wrote a long essay about trusting good cooks, even if it isn't something you normally are into. I normally don't like mushrooms, for example). And, it was suprisingly good. A little grit, which he ascribed to a brief soaking (5 hours instead of 8). And the he brought out the steak. This delicious, amazing steak, super tender. Nrmally part of the ribeye, he said, and he sells them for $75 bucks a pop at his restaurant. As h'ors d'oeuvre with friends playing video games. Fucking awesome.

Oh yeah, what was everyone doing while noshing on that deliciousness? Playing Rock Band, a game that takes conspicuous consumption to a whole new level, and is really fun looking in the process. They played the game, I took pictures. It worked out. Next time on Five Years: Pictures, and what I did with my friday...

ok, so people are coming here again, YAY!

And by again, I mean for the first time. Hi everyone, even you people who were looking for "Matt Mills porn" in google. No porn here, just good clean photography. While I might occaisionally take pictures of scantily clad women, naked ones even (although that hasn't happened in a while; other things to do when I get naked with a girl, you know), there's no porn here, and don't hold your breath. Seriously, it's a little weird that someone is searching my name with porn. Could be worse. They could be searching "Matt Mills assassination."



It's been a good couple of days. Tony keeps on rocking out, although some easy to find permalinks would be nice. The top and third posts as of this writing, about needing to write every day, are awesome, the reason I keep going back to his blog, even when he's dragging, even when some weeks he only posts about shit I don't want to hear. Because in 7 years reading his blog, he's been consistently pulling out awesome writing like that, sooner or later. And all the hotchicks, I'm not gonna lie.

So, the good news is that I'm doing all right. Several good things have happened to me in the last 24 hours. I had a primo steak for dinner, fresh french fries, all delicious. I then went and had coffee with Lora and Sabrina, two friends of mine, both of whom I owe pictures, sorry girls, I swear I'm on it right after I write this. Lora had to go home and sleep, she works, and I can't decide if I'm jealous of her having a job, you know, with income, or if I'm glad I'm not tied down like that, needing to be in bed by a certain time. Although that never stopped me from staying up before.


So, that left me and Sabrina to run around town a bunch. Sabrina's an old friend, from high school, but I haven't seen her since last fall, so we had a bit of catching up to do. We talked for a while, drove around some, and got out and walked some too. The photos are from the walking and the driving. Yes, I take photos even when I'm driving sometimes. I do it really fast, and I never leave my lane, although sometimes a little swerving is involved. So yeah, we walked and talked, and before you know it it was 11:30 and Sabrina's husband was calling and asking where his wife was, and so we ambled back to the car and I took her home.

Then I went home and read for a while. John Dies at the End is a really cool story. A little disconnected at times, but worth reading. Really scary at points, too, something that few stories do for me. To answer the riddle at the beginning: No. By the way, the title is deceptive. That's all I'm saying.



OK, so with that out of the way, I gotta go do up the photos. Peace everyone/MAtt

I was going to blog about my night, but then I decided not to. Let's say there was pool and drinking and staying out very late indeed, good times had by all, and leave it at that. oh yeah, and I lose a thousand words to a stupid mistake.

The things I carry...

So, because I have nothing to blog about right now, I thought I'd blog about what I think of as my adventure kit (edit: Yes, it's a purse, no, that doesn't bother me. A;though the wallet and keys and such are in my pockets, not in the bag). It's a bag I carry almost everywhere, and has all of my essentials.



I always have my camera, an EOS 5D, and the 50mm 1.2 lens mounted, excellent for us nocturnal beasts. Also pictured is the utilitarian 24-105, which keeps me from having to carry five fixed lenses, god bless it. In the column of camera stuff, there's also the waterproof card wallet and the extra battery.

There's also the mundane stuff: A metal wallet, cell phone, swiss army knife, pens, notebook, tiny flashlight, business cards (the black thing on the wallet is my business card holder). A tin of altoids for breath.

Last but certainly not least is the Nokia N800, which is a gadget, I'll admit, but I stay on top of email with it, and it's a lot lighter than a laptop. It does everything a bigger computer does, only smaller. Now if someone would just help me figure out how to easily get the RAW files from my camera out to small jpegs for blogging, I'd hardly need a laptop at all.

And what do I carry it all in? I'm glad you asked. This is the Emsquared Super Adventure Plus 2.0 camera bag, with kevlar strap, in handsome gray fabric. The ESAP features a main compartment of 9x4.5x6.5, with three subdivider pockets for organization. Seriously, I knocked this together last night.



I like it, but it needs some breaking in. Which I'm going to go do now.

Midnight Bike Rides Make Everything Better

I just rode 25 miles, thither and yon and back again, here in oak shitty (that's oklahoma city, for those not in the know). I feel a lot better. So, thanks, Alex, for introducing to me how awesome they are.

One thing about this town: the wind is fucking killer. As in, it will kill you sometimes, whether you're watching or not. I was almost knocked over a couple of times by gusts. I have to wonder if anyone here does a wind blog, with all sorts of wind related ephemera? Wind jokes, stats, photos, videos... hmm.

Anyway, about halfway through my ride, I was crossing the highway on an overpass, and I saw these signs. The wind knocked them over, I swear.

Just the road...
Self-portrait in black and white. Feeding my narcissism. This was from another night, but on the card anyway.
My parents at dinner yesterday. Mom's a little blurry, but don't worry, it's just iced tea she's drinking.

So, I've gotta pour my heart out somewhere, and since you're around, internet, I'm gonna do it to you.

Why should I care about your problems? What have you ever done for me?

Hey, what are you talking about? I've loved you since the day we met.

Yeah, sure, for porn. So, what are your problems, you nerdy little shit?

Hey, if you keep talking to me like that how am I supposed to be open with you?

Never stopped you before. Talk, asshole. My time's wastin' and so is your bandwidth.

Ok... So, there's this girl. She'll remain nameless because she knows who she is. I love this girl, but, I can't get through to her. All I get for the past two weeks is silence. I'm losing my mind, not eating, hardly sleeping, and when I do sleep, I dream that she's here and she still doesn't talk to me. Not a peep. Not a text to say hello. What the hell?

Man, I don't even know. I've got other shit to do. Figure it out.

Thanks internet. Thanks for no help at all.