Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Mad Ones


“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!” - Jack Kerouac
I always cross myself before getting on airplanes. I know, it’s a silly ritual, the plane is not going down. I’m going to see and touch and feel my loved ones again. I will sink my toes in sand, and lay blankets in the middle of wheat fields, and memorize poems with my girls again. I’ll make it. I always do. Still, any time I have a moment that might be considered my last, I have to make it hyper real.
Taking pictures is like that too. There’s something about the feel of a camera in my hands. The click of the shutter, the turning of a lens according to the rising or setting sun, knowing the situation, it’s all about fear. Will I get it right? Because I see it so clearly in my mind already. All the things I dream, every last detail. Can I capture it? Because we all deserve to have the perfect picture, right? We do.
So if we’re ever walking down a boarding ramp and I reach out and grab your arm and say, “You know I love you, right?” You’ll know. What I’m really doing is taking your picture so that it will last forever. And if I ever stick a camera in your face you’ll also know, that’s me saying, "I love you because you're mine."

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