BENCARVER PHOTOJOURNAL

JFK. Kennedy Center. Taken with ipod touch. The new year brought...

bcarver — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 22:15:00 -0500

JFK. Kennedy Center. Taken with ipod touch.

The new year brought something bold and unexpected: happiness. After two hard years, 2012 has been a transition to peace of mind and mental clarity. Work is engaging and fulfilling, I’m strengthening old friendships and developing a few new ones, and I’m more curious and engaged with my passions than I have ever been. I think happiness suits me well.

**

I got mugged in the early evening prior to sunset while walking to dinner. Two black teenagers ran up behind me on 9th street, racked a gun and shoved it in my gut. They took my camera, my iphone, and my money. They also took the book I was reading.

As far as robberies go it was fairly pleasant. They didn’t scream or curse nor did they hurt me. I looked them dead in the eyes so I could identify them and they didn’t seem to mind.

I do have a few observations:
-My heart rate never rose. I was calm. I can’t say for sure why I keep cool under pressure but I have a few ideas.
-People were upset and shocked that this happened to me. This surprised me. It didn’t really bother me, yet people were emotional and concerned for my state of mind. I figure their reaction is more about the recognition that this could happen to them. Someone violating them in broad daylight. Most people haven’t made their peace with the inevitable loss of things they collect, much less their lives. I empathize. It’s not an easy thing to get your head around.
-What kind of criminals take your books? I was reading the Tao of Wu by the RZA of Wu-Tang Clan. It’s about a young black man from the streets of New York who began as a criminal but changed his life through educational pursuits and spiritual practice, eventually developing a code of conduct based on the teachings of christianity, islam, and buddhism. I really hope he reads that book. If it plants a seed that helps him turn his life around, the loss of my possessions will be worth it.

**

Friends of mine pitched in to buy me a new camera. They raised $650. I was shocked and humbled. I still don’t know how to process this gesture. Honestly, I didn’t think people liked me that much. I guess I’m loved more than I thought.

I don’t usually post other people’s work...

bcarver — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 14:00:50 -0500

I don’t usually post other people’s work here…but this man deserves an audience.

bitemarks:

Why do douchebags get action?

Existential Angst. ***Other than the gym and brunch with an old...

bcarver — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 18:44:00 -0500

Existential Angst.

***
Other than the gym and brunch with an old friend on Saturday, I was a shut-in last weekend. On Sunday I slept till 2:00, played video games until 5:00, and didn’t speak my first words of the day until 10:30 pm when my housemate came home. Let’s just say the week has been quiet since then. I’ve been playing Glen Gould piano concertos of Bach on repeat to remind myself that I’m alive. Seasonal mood disorder, they call it.

Yesterday I found myself in Whole Foods sitting in that second floor overhang where people eat and such, which I didn’t know existed until a month ago. You can sit there as long as you want and watch people walk through the produce section or buy meats from the butcher shop. So I did. I watched them bump into each other and make choices. I watched them hesitate and consider. I wondered why they chose items I never choose. If they really liked those items and I’m missing out on a set of choices I don’t even know exist or if their choices stink and they only make them because they got stuck in some arbitrary pattern and now they will be drinking that same brand of bottled fruit smoothie until they die.

I’m not sure if they have anything to teach me, but that’s what I did. I watched.

***

Real intimacy isn’t cock-in-ass or quiet long talks. It’s someone berating you to clip your fucking toenails because they care enough to keep you tight and know you will keep forgetting to do it unless they hound you. I missed that one the last two guys, but now I’m clear on it. I won’t make the same mistake a third time.

***

I frequently threaten a platonic friend of mine that I’m going to eat his ass with whatever substance is around us at the time. I won’t explain the history of this comedy but it’s all in good fun.

These threats yielded a fantastic idea to market my own brand of ass relishes. These relishes would be the same taste and quality as one would expect if eating them in a more direct fashion, only they would be marketed to those niche individuals wanting to up-kink (a word I just invented) their ass eating experience. I’m thinking the first flavors would come in a variety pack of four: hummus, creole mustard, ranch, and chocolate sauce (for dessert).

I’m convinced that my ass relishes will make ass eating more of an event for everyone involved, but particularly as a savory stimulant to long-term couples bored in the bedroom. My ass relishes might even save marriages. I would imagine a special bond is formed with a person after you let them lick hummus out of your asshole.

***

The Four Faggots (with apologies to Paulo Coehlo)

You know those four faggots. You see them at the bar every weekend.

The first faggot tells you he won’t suck your dick. that he’s not that kind of girl, that he barely knows you, doesn’t want to know you, and if you want to change that you’re going to work hard for it.

The second faggot tells you he wants to suck your dick and only your dick. And if he can’t have your dick he’s going to scream off into the night leaving only an unspoken promise to make life hell for both of you.

The third faggot tells you there are four other dicks he want to suck more than yours, but stick around and see how the night falls.

The fourth faggot tells you he’ll suck all four of those other dicks and yours, and if you can get things organized for him everyone can still get home in time to smoke a joint and watch Buffy.

Thing is, these four faggots rarely tell you any of this up front, so we twist ourselves in knots figuring out which of the four we’re dealing with, despite the fact that there was only ever one faggot standing there.

But he HAS had four drinks.

Today I began my edit on 48 pages of script for an educational...

bcarver — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 18:40:51 -0500

Today I began my edit on 48 pages of script for an educational film I’m doing in Boston this winter. I have to mold it into a shooting script by next Tuesday. I don’t think I will make it in time.

The Cajunator food truck in McPherson Square. Try the roast beef...

bcarver — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 18:39:28 -0500

The Cajunator food truck in McPherson Square. Try the roast beef po-boy.

This truck sits outside of Little Miss Whiskey’s on H street during the New Orleans Saints football games. It will be there when NOLA plays San Francisco this weekend. I will probably be there.

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,I fell in love with...

bcarver — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 18:37:50 -0500

This morning as I walked along the lakeshore,
I fell in love with a wren
and later in the day with a mouse
the cat had dropped under the dining room table.
In the shadows of an autumn evening,
I fell for a seamstress
still at her machine in the tailor’s window,
and later for a bowl of broth,
steam rising like smoke from a naval battle.
This is the best kind of love, I thought,
without recompense, without gifts,
or unkind words, without suspicion,
or silence on the telephone.
The love of the chestnut,
the jazz cap and one hand on the wheel.
No lust, no slam of the door –
the love of the miniature orange tree,
the clean white shirt, the hot evening shower,
the highway that cuts across Florida.
No waiting, no huffiness, or rancor –
just a twinge every now and then
for the wren who had built her nest
on a low branch overhanging the water
and for the dead mouse,
still dressed in its light brown suit.
But my heart is always propped up
in a field on its tripod,
ready for the next arrow.
After I carried the mouse by the tail
to a pile of leaves in the woods,
I found myself standing at the bathroom sink
gazing down affectionately at the soap,
so patient and soluble,
so at home in its pale green soap dish.

I could feel myself falling again
as I felt its turning in my wet hands
and caught the scent of lavender and stone.

- Billy Collins

So much of the world and its deceptions must be silenced to experience this kind of love. It takes effort. In my experience that kind of quiet drives you mad before it gives up its gifts.

I spray paint stuff. These are things that I have...

bcarver — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 00:11:13 -0500

I spray paint stuff.

These are things that I have enjoyed:

Mexican Death Star lovers.

Laurie Anderson on being an artist.

Chuck Palahniuk writing tips

Paste’s top 50 songs of the year
(thanks Jason Kello)

Become a better photographer with DPS.

How to create a stencil in photoshop. Go make graffiti now.

Terry Gilliam on the difference between Kubrick and Spielberg
(thanks Ruben Rodriguez)
comment on Hollywood: “It’s an abominable place. If there was an Old Testament God he would do his job and wipe the place out. The only bad thing is that some really good restaurants would go up as well.”

We consume the souls of things.

Nothing has changed because we don’t want it to.

Bruce Davidson reflects on his legendary photography work in the New York Subway system.

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:13:12 -0500

I was moved by the expression on his face.

bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:12:35 -0500

I was moved by the expression on his face.

Perseus. Metropolitan Museum of Art.

bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:12:01 -0500

Perseus. Metropolitan Museum of Art.

John Brown. Abolitionist.

bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:11:40 -0500

John Brown. Abolitionist.

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:11:02 -0500

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:10:56 -0500

I went to the Guggenheim to see the Maurizio Cattelan retirement...

bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:05:09 -0500

I went to the Guggenheim to see the Maurizio Cattelan retirement show. All of his work was hung from the ceiling. I love the absurdity of his work.

The rest of the Guggenheim didn’t hold my interest. They were featuring works by Kandinsky, which I could give a shit.

Maurizio Cattelan

Show at the Guggenheim

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:05:02 -0500

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:04:55 -0500

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:04:47 -0500

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:04:30 -0500

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:04:22 -0500

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bcarver — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 21:04:18 -0500