Adairdevil

Thrice-yearly update

Sat, 01 May 2010 09:33:39 -0500

1. It's a long way to mid-June and the new Robyn album, which will be fantastic if this song is even a slight indication. 2. Still taking photos around Brooklyn. Usually with my real camera, but also still playing around and trying to see what tricking the panoramic function on my cellphone yields.

The Blizzard of 2010

Thu, 11 Feb 2010 17:27:01 -0500

Best shot of the bunch. Which is not to say the others aren't worth a look.

Ain't it a shame all the world don't got keys to their own ignition

Sat, 21 Nov 2009 16:31:26 -0500

Ah, California. You are awesome. I hope you don't fall into the sea as a result of your various natural, economic, and political disasters. Belated photos from a delightful trip out to Napa for a friend's wedding:

I am not yeller.

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 14:48:42 -0500

My aaart continues. And while a lot has changed since my earlier forays, two things remain true: I keep a safe distance from representational art, and I damn near never use yellow. Not successfully, anyway. Always hate whatever I come up with and paint right over it. Some recentish work:

It is important to remember . . .

Tue, 11 Aug 2009 18:16:18 -0500

. . . particularly in August -- when the pavement bakes, the air is a haze, and it is not possible to walk more than one block without smelling urine that you hope but don't believe is just from somebody's dog -- that this place is also beautiful. An old photo I neglected to post at the time of its capture:

Again at the Smith & 9th stop . . .

Mon, 29 Jun 2009 18:52:42 -0500

My cellphone's special assignment as go-to device for deliberately screwy panoramic pictures of the subway continues:

The Terrible Cost of Progress

Sat, 27 Jun 2009 12:00:10 -0500

As noted before, my heart grew three sizes every time I passed Bad Apple Bail Bonds, where the guilt of clients was both presumed and essentialized with a brilliantly unsubtle name and logo. In my secret soul, I knew nothing this marvelous would last forever. But I never expected it to become such a horror as this: Shame is dead. So is the best logo ever. R.I.P., worm in retro prison garb. May your memory never fade.

Old Blighty

Wed, 10 Jun 2009 21:40:31 -0500

As this blog transitions to photo-only mode, it may be time for me to finish editing my spring break photos already. The Portugal photos are slow going, but I've got the UK photos going at a steady clip. Some examples: Trafalgar Square: Kingsway: Thames by night, variation 1 of a kajillion: Buckingham Palace:

Cabo da Roca

Tue, 07 Apr 2009 08:16:23 -0500

The westernmost point in Europe, the place my contact lens committed suicide by leaping into the sea, and one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. With one eye.

"I believe in witches!"

Sat, 10 Jan 2009 14:52:58 -0500

Merry Christmas to ME

Sat, 03 Jan 2009 13:19:29 -0500

My long, sad camera drought is over.

More Subway Surrealism

Wed, 22 Oct 2008 14:04:31 -0500

I really need to replace my sadly defunct digital camera. I can't afford it, but on the other hand, I can't afford to have all of my artistic expression** filtered exclusively through my cameraphone. ** This no doubt sounds high-falutin'. I would like to note that calling it artistic expression in no way constitutes a statement as to the quality of what I produce.

This Should Be Part of Every Contracts Class in the Nation

Tue, 07 Oct 2008 14:40:38 -0500

"I did not put garbage in your yard . . . Now you listen to me! I'm Mephistopheles, Prince of Darkness! When I start harassing you, you'll know it."

Summer 08 Snapshots

Tue, 29 Jul 2008 22:51:11 -0500

I still haven't edited the photos from my trip out to Walla Walla. Or from my nephew's birthday. Or my Mom's birthday. Or . . . well, I've got a lot of editing to do. To get started, some everyday shots from around town. First, the best thing ever: MAGIC. Below are some informal shots I rattled off on my cameraphone. I've been using its panoramic function the anticipated way and also toying around with it to stitch together noncontiguous/in-motion photos, usually as I ride the subway. My subway chronicles: Simple: Dynamic: Also seen around: The poles of the gun debate encapsulated: More fun with sign disrepair:

Dewey Iacono, R.I.P.

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 14:15:42 -0500

A few weeks ago, my mom had to put the much beloved Dewey to sleep. I don't know why I haven't written about it until now, except that the Dewmaster deserves a better eulogy than my hectic schedule was permitting. If you have ever visited my other site, you know that Dewey was, well . . . too dewy. This led to him living a life of accommodated exile where he was fed, sheltered, and cared for by our family, but disallowed entrance to the house. Instead, Dewey made the garage, the deck, and the yard his domains. The thing was, though, that Dewey's defining characteristic was that he was happy--pretty much always. So this meant that when he was put outside, he cheerfully persisted in attempting to regain entrance to the house. For about 15 years. Every Iacono assembly-line formation to bring in the groceries was accompanied by cries from my mother of, "Watch him! WATCH HIM!" In the early years of his banishment, Dewey's sunshiny outlook would invariably mean that, having gained access to the house, he would head straight to whatever area of the house would be most upsetting for my mom. (A favorite is the time we kids searched in a panic to hustle Dewey out of the house before our mother caught on . . . only to find him curled in a ball on my parents' bed. "Death wish," said my brother, and he may not have been wrong.) In later years, he seemed to understand that he wasn't supposed to stay inside and, having gotten inside by the downstairs door, would walk along with us to the upstairs deck door and head out the moment it was opened. "My point being made . . .", said my brother (again). The one thing I want to make clear is that despite his outside ways, we took very good care of this cat. One winter, when the yard was under about 15 inches of snow and Dewey was confined to the garage and walkable parts of our drive, my dad shoveled a path between the driveway and the deck so that he could have full access. The sight of the tip of Dewey's tail bopping along above the snow--his tail was almost always up, the better to communicate cheer and to whiz--is one of the most endearing memories I have of both Dewey and of my dad. For my part, I bought Dewey a succession of snug, woolen cat beds that hugged close and plugged in for extra warmth. Winter's arrival was marked annually by a call from my dad telling us that, "Dewey's in his hat." Even Dewey's misconduct tended toward the hilarious. I have held forth at length about how this cat taught me the important distinction between love and trust. I always welcomed him, let him follow me around, and played with him--but I never turned my back on him. The stories of those who did have a certain uniformity. The best was my mother's. It was before Dewey was sent outside--it was, in fact, the clincher in that decision. I was in the kitchen, I think doing my homework, when I heard my mother yelling in the next room. I stepped out to see my mom standing up in front of the couch with a book in her hand, yelling at Dewey. Her summary, "I'm sitting here thinking, 'God, it's warm.' The son of a bitch pissed on me!" And so Dewey was sent outside. But that changed little; he was an important part of our family all the same. I already miss him terribly.