I know it's boring and self-indulgent to everyone else, but I fucking love letting the camera jiggle during long nocturnal exposures. This is a crescent moon over Sawyers Bay after about 20 seconds @ 200 ISO. I was trying to get it to look like a cock or something but the shutter exhibited more taste and maturity than me.
When you don't have children, the part of your mind that would otherwise have to worry about playdates/toilet training/overdue tuition lives free and just sort of wanders around at night singing to itself and touching the darkness with its shiny eyeballs. I don't know if it is the preferable state, but personally I don't regret falling through space without spawning, especially when I look at the moon and remember that it doesn't care either way.
When you don't have children, the part of your mind that would otherwise have to worry about playdates/toilet training/overdue tuition lives free and just sort of wanders around at night singing to itself and touching the darkness with its shiny eyeballs. I don't know if it is the preferable state, but personally I don't regret falling through space without spawning, especially when I look at the moon and remember that it doesn't care either way.
Here are some much better pictures from local astronomer Ian Grffin's Twitter feed. The Aurora Australis over various portions of Dunedin in the last few days, the result of a solar storm.
A lot of people (in NZ, anyway) shit on Dunedin because they imagine it's cold (it's really not- I grow tree aloes outdoors for fuck's sake) boring (everywhere is boring after a while. At least we're not taking sniper fire) and conservative (not particularly). But I realise lately that we've been taking Dunedin for granted and not sharing enough of it with you, dear readers, so we'll do a few local shoots and show you just how awesome this part of New Zealand can be.
In the fullness of time.
A lot of people (in NZ, anyway) shit on Dunedin because they imagine it's cold (it's really not- I grow tree aloes outdoors for fuck's sake) boring (everywhere is boring after a while. At least we're not taking sniper fire) and conservative (not particularly). But I realise lately that we've been taking Dunedin for granted and not sharing enough of it with you, dear readers, so we'll do a few local shoots and show you just how awesome this part of New Zealand can be.
In the fullness of time.
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Speaking of chronology, The Blackthorn Orphans Blog is fucking three years old, man, on the 20th of April.
This is the first thing I ever posted.
This is the first thing I ever posted.
Which is the view from Taiaroa Head north toward the Otago coast on a massively bright summer day. Three years is like three fucking centuries on the internet and the fact that I can still find shit to moistly besmirch strangers with after one hundred and fifty six weeks of doing exactly that is... gratifying. In a strange equivocal sort of way. Sort of like getting to fuck someone you've always fancied in a dream; deliciously immediate and yet still tantalisingly remote.
We hope you enjoy what we do and post here. Traffic is really picking up this year, so I suppose some people are into it, for whatever reason. I hope it hasn't always been hideously obvious, but the blog has chronicled such a strange and painfully murky watershed in my own life that I hope by ploughing through and onward and maybe upward if not sideways, some of my blackwards-leaning peeps will feel less like unaccompanied atoms and more like part of the creepily resonant dysfunctional plasmic organism that we actually are.
I'd post this sentiment as a piece of interpretative dance but Karen does it better and has glitter. It's for the best that I leave the lamé ballerina shit to her. Believe me.
This might be a retro week full of historic thingies. Haven't done one for a while.
We hope you enjoy what we do and post here. Traffic is really picking up this year, so I suppose some people are into it, for whatever reason. I hope it hasn't always been hideously obvious, but the blog has chronicled such a strange and painfully murky watershed in my own life that I hope by ploughing through and onward and maybe upward if not sideways, some of my blackwards-leaning peeps will feel less like unaccompanied atoms and more like part of the creepily resonant dysfunctional plasmic organism that we actually are.
I'd post this sentiment as a piece of interpretative dance but Karen does it better and has glitter. It's for the best that I leave the lamé ballerina shit to her. Believe me.
This might be a retro week full of historic thingies. Haven't done one for a while.
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