helmet

eniak

inauguration watch

things to remember me by

I got locked out of my place and somehow, I still had keys to my vehicle. My options were either phone for help or I pray that there's was a spare set somewhere in the glovebox.

I opt for the latter and soon I'm leaning across the seat and yanking all sorts of crap out of the passenger's side. I hear a noise and there's a gaunt man standing over me. He compliments my shirt. I look at him, awaiting the second part of our introduction. Honestly, I'm too preoccupied to act interested so when he asks me for a cigarette instead of money I manage to grab one from the console and hand it to him without skipping a beat in my rummaging. He continues to stand there and proceeds to ask if I have a place he can stay. I make a joke about how right now, I'm in the same boat he is. I'm still horizontally bent over the seats with my feet sticking out the door. He then asks for a lighter and again I toss him one without a second glance. He mumbles something but I'm too worried about getting back inside without a hefty locksmith fee.

I look at the mess I've made and it's a pile of papers and receipts and wrappings that collected during the last few weeks. No keys. I wipe my hands on my jeans and decide I should at least get ride of some of this trash. Scooping up a heap, I shut the door with my hip and look up. The man is using my lighter to smoke crack. It's broad daylight and an addict is getting high next to me as if I didn't exist. Instead of saying something, I continue to the dumpster and dump my garbage. I turn around and the man is drifting into the shadows and branches alongside the adjacent building. I decide not to pursue my borrowed lighter.

The war on drugs is a nice phrase when the drugs aren't in your face. There are spent needles and pipes all around Midtown and the Highlands. They can be found scattered around bushes or near corners, usually adjacent to $600,000 homes. The idea of addiction and abuse and crime is in front of my face and I wonder had I said anything or called the police if it would have made a difference.

I never made a mission statement when I moved to the city. I never drew up a code of conduct or list of morals. I try to be nice to people and be a good neighbor. I encourage and listen and try to point the desperate in the right direction. This city needs more than a hunk of DC pity money or 400 police officers. It needs more than Shirley's quick fixes.

A few nights later I came outside and noticed someone had left a little gift on top of the mailbox. So nice to know your neighbors are thinking of you.

cruise

fog

I didn't have long, maybe an hour or so. The city had been overrun by mist for hours and I finally had the time to try and capture it.

It wasn't late, sometime after sunset, but the streets were barren. I trekked into the blackness and got lost. How does a city with 5 million feel so empty and silent?

I walk into the trees and there is nothing. On the fringes, cars pass and figures walk from convenience stores to corners. I'm noticed but no one approaches. This is a first.

I guess my exposure and wind off a few frames. The mist is dense but that doesn't make it any easier to replicate. I'm lucky if these turn out at all.

Any other time there is shouting. There are car horns. There is music and arguing and crashing and sirens and gunfire and crying. There are the sounds of people living and dying.

My hand crank stops and I'm out of film. I didn't bring extra rolls. That's usually my cue to leave, but I walk slowly, savoring the mood. It's a rare occurrence and I want to enjoy it. The incredible sense of solitude in the heart of the beast.

notes

I celebrated two years of photographing Ponce last month. My notebook is crammed full of scribbles, messages, quotes and random information. For a while, I kept a lot of it on a computer, but after my hard drive crashed and left me a widower, I've become accustom to keeping all my facts on paper.

The thing is bent and worn. It has a major spinal tear and sags from repeated water damage. It needed to be retired. In honor of 2009, my resolution was to replace the old book. I wrote the dates of use in the inside cover and put it on the shelf next to my old reportage notebooks.

I peeled back the packaging on the new Moleskin and wrote the opening date on the inside cover. Happy New Year.