A while back, I was challenged on the Facebook to participate in this Black & White Challenge thingy.
The rules were to post one black and white photo each day for seven days, no commentary, no people. Just photos.
I suspected it was just some elaborate ruse to get me to shut the hell up for a week and considered ignoring the challenge. But, since my inner child is very much alive and well, I simply couldn’t resist the dare.
So I did it.
The final part of the challenge was to pass it on to one of your Facebook friends each day, but I’m lucky enough to have the friends I do…best not risk pushing them away any more than my sparkling personality (read: EOG) already does.
Plus, it took me nine days to post my seven photos.
Needless to say, it’s been bugging me ever since, the lack of context or comment on these posts. Fortunately, I have a forum where I can basically say and do just about anything I want.
Take that, everybody else!
Day One: I go to work too damned early. Sure, we had recently survived the idiotic annual shift to Daylight Savings Time once again, but seeing street lights on when I leave for work in the morning is a little much.
I think this was my Sunday shift, so I’m up at 3:45 and out the door by 4:30. On my way to the MAX stop in Old Town I pass a gentleman’s club that’s still open, further reinforcing my belief that it’s not actuall morning.
Day Two: This is where I do it, Portland International Airport.
Not “do it” like a wide-stanced senator, I actually work at PDX. I love the environment and the carpet makes me happy. This is version two of the world famous PDX carpet. It was replaced two years ago after a couple decades of wear and tear. And at about 50,000 travelers a day, that’s a lot of wear and tear over 20 years!
Day Three: After a couple of days at the old Salt Mine, I’m ready for a drink to blow off a little midweek steam. I actually stopped on the way home at a shitty little Old Town restaurant with good beer called Silver Dollar Pizza II. I have no idea how this is related to Silver Dollar Pizza on NW 21st, but I do know that this is owned by the same jag off that formerly owned one of the three second-worst gay bars in Portland. He sold it s while back and suddenly its not a gay bar anymore. I guess you could say, <poof!> no poofs.
So, there I am, having a couple of beers and when I walk out, darkness. Goddamned Daylight Savings. But I walk around the corner and here’s this sign to brighten my night! Nothing like blowing a few bucks in quarters and blowing away your day’s frustration with some Galaga!
Day Four: This building.
I always lament my move to Shittatle by saying, “If the Pearl would have looked then like it does now, I never would have left”. Truly, I would have taken the severance being offered and suffered through the remaining years of the W presidency in the happiness of my hometown.
When I left, the Pearl District was just starting it’s redevelopment phase and there were blocks of in-redeveloped warehouse space and abandoned buildings. There were lots of galleries, a few co-ops and some new high rise buildings.
This is one of the co-ops. It’s someplace I could never afford to live, but a place that’s always been one of my Pearl aspirations.
Day Five: I’m pretty sure this was one of the days I missed posting because I was traveling, sue me. I took off for my company’s annual leadership seminar midweek and took a little light reading for the trip. Of course, if I’d forgotten it, the hotel had me covered with its own good book.
I love the act of holding an actual book while I read. It’s such an analog feeling. The weight of the book in my hands, the smell of ink and paper. Imagination engaged and senses engaged…I was off on an adventure that was simultaneously futuristic and nostalgic. If you have a chance to read this before the movie comes out, do. If not, the movie will be pretty good, I’m sure. Spielberg at the helm? Pretty good indicator, right?
Actually, I was pretty impressed that I didn’t slip on this leaf as I traversed these sometimes treacherous bricks.
Day Seven: It’s my weekend! And I was lucky enough to meet up with the Filipina Fox for a drink while her hubby was traveling for work. Also, she got me into this challenge, so it’s only fair that she was with me when I snapped my last entry.
It’s a statue of a giant whisk. Because: Portland.
And then there’s this gem. I snapped this selfie in my elevator afterwards. All this black and white nonsense made me nostalgic for the work of Herb Ritts or one of those super gritty Rolling Stone covers with the pop culture icon viewed through a haze of exhales cigarette smoke.
Obviously, I’m missing the smoke.
And some professional lighting.
And the pro photog.