Norwegian Woods

 

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Crush City

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I feel lucky when I throw a roll into my busted Yashica. I keep it in the car so when I’m bopping about Crush City I know I can get a shot when the eyes start twitching for some keen angle-catching. Sharp-like, see? So I know what I’m getting.

Frame up. Frame down. I roll the the city streets real slow. I’m in no hurry. Looking for some busted, faded motel sign I ain’t spotted yet before. One of them throwbacks to the glory days. Before the money got too big and everything got so clean. Real Dry. All the class just up and left. Where? I aint tellin. So, Eventually the cars piling up behind me’ll start bleeping their little bleepin’ hearts out. I ash my cigarette in my rear view mirror, flip em the V and slow down some more.

Then I laugh a hearty ‘fuck you lame fuckers’ kinda laugh that makes em loose their fucking minds. Veins swelling on their foreheads looking like they got centipedes crawling around up under their coupons. Fists gripping the steering wheel like they’re tryin’ ta bend it in half. Its sport. Good sport. And all sports fair-game in Crushtown.

Thats how you got to be, A real dick. Bigtime. Thats how it is if you ever want to get nothing done noplace in this kinda special kinda nowhere, kid…

 

Washout.

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I shot this test roll in the afternoon while I waited for the tide to drop at Duranbah. The camera’s a Yashica Minister 700. It’s a Rangefinder. I’d never shot with a rangefinder before. Lining up that yellow blob to focus. Hard to do with natural patterns, easier with hard edged structures and people. It felt strange. With no light-meter I guessed exposures. I’m happy with how it all came out. It felt good to shoot film. The mystery.

How good is that Valiant?