Monochromegod by name...

... monochromegod by nature. (I've struggled with humility issues before, but not any longer: fuck it.)

When I Grow Up...

... I sure hope I can hang shitty photos in a trendy café, and have a poster on the wall shilling myself for weddings, parties, anything (missing focus a speciality-ality.)

I'd rather kick myself in the bag.

Everybody Loves Rainbows

I'm a genius: I can make downtown Halifax look good. But if we get a hyper-million-buck convention centre, then everything will be OK, right? It'll all be shiny and new and bum-free. (Fuck, I kill myself sometimes.)

It's all there in monochrome

Two sides to every story. Thing is, one of them is always wrong. Unless I don't give a fuck. In this case, I do.

South End Halifax, mid-day

Yeah, I called the fuzz to have someone sent to check on the old girl. After I got the shot, of course: I'm not stupid.

Back on track

Awfully cheerful the other day, wasn't I? Well, there wasn't much joy in Mudville yesterday.

I have noticed that I haven't been particularly foul-mouthed in the last few posts. Please read the first line of this entry with "fucking" between "much" and "joy". Sorry for the inattention to detail.

Cheery!

Organisations often ask me for donations to their auction events. I'm glad to oblige (I'm charitable by nature, and tax deductible donations are nice) but it's hard for me to find photos in my archive that suit. People generally don't want to hang portraits (even exceptional ones) of people they don't know. So when the IWK Great Big Dig made contact again last week, I was typically stuck. My first thought was to print the first shot below, but I decided it might be a bit grim for most of the auction-types, so I headed out with the wife and got all colourful.