Getting crazy on the waltzers but it’s the life that I choose
sing about the sixblade sing about the switchback and a torture tattoo
and I been riding on a ghost train where the cars they scream and slam
and I don’t know where I’ll be tonight but I’d always tell you where I am
in a screaming ring of faces I seen her standing in the light
she had a ticket for the races just like me she was a victim of the night
I put a hand upon the lever said let it rock and let it roll
I had the one arm bandit fever there was an arrow through my heart and my soul
and the big wheel keep on turning neon burning up above
and I’m just high on the world
come on and take a low ride with me girl
on the tunnel of love
This was nearly two months ago. I have been slack in updating this page. This was a good night. No tripod used just some stone railings. I was wearing just a t-shirt during the day. A few hours after the sun went down it was sub-zero.
I’m back in Australia, back working and backed up with my photography. My computer is on the fritz, I’ve been shooting film again which really hurts my saving for a new computer. Three rolls of 120 film costs 167AUD to develop, print and scan you know?
That is 36 shots. That is Almost $5 a photo.
I’m also repairing a Super 8mm. I cant wait to blow a few hundred for a couple of minutes of choppy beautifully saturated images.
I bought a car. I’m going to be filling it with all my camera gear and doing my best to shoot what I can when I can.
It has been nice re-discovering the area I grew up in.
I was swimming with a pod of Dolphins on an empty beach this morning. I’ll be looking into getting a waterproof camera soon too.
Before I came here I was daydreaming about what I would be doing when I got here. I envisioned a second hand wet-suit and hoody slung over a board, under my arm, as I walked across lime green fields.
I’d walk along side ancient stone walls to protect myself from the stiff winds and eventually they’d guide me to an overhanging cliff with a thick wedging swell peeling beneath it.
I’d kit up. Climb down a goats trail, make my way past frozen ponds of salt water and, finally, jump into the Atlantic. Instant ice-cream headache. Loosing my breath for a minute as I paddled through a kelpy whitewash soup.
Eventually I’d get to the peak.
For hours I’d be out there in the rain and hail slotting into short punchy waves on my own without the fearing the black water around me. No sharks, only heavy liquid…
This wave is a pretty special one. An opal shaped cave at the base of an amazing limestone cliff.
I didn’t get out there this day.
I was lucky enough to get the day off to get out of the city and caught it breaking with a couple of hell men charging it. Ah well… That dream lives on.