Thursday, October 11, 2012

Walking with Strangers: Do you Walk at All?


                                               
                                      Walking with Strangers.
                         My thoughts as others took me to their lives.
                                         By Mark William Darus

 

Taking a crushed gravel path barely three feet in width to waters edge. Hoping for shots I’ve yet to take of glistening rock and bubbling waters. I soon realized I’d spend more time listening than shooting. When my photos and P:SA hit the net, electrically, others shared viewpoints.

I’ve always been a sociable person, bidding a good day, great night, happy morn to anyone that met my eyes. Taking this to mind, I have always believed: ‘We are all teachers and students to one another. What they express to us we can grow from. The words we speak to them can help, perhaps aide their suffering mind and guide them. Dare I say, help them take stock in what they have to give as they do us? A grand place to be as one feeds another for their quest for being here.

Parasites?

Perhaps. But what can humanity say living in the USA that isn’t parasitic in its very nature?

Living here, we’re all no different than the very prostitutes, well dressed hookers from legal dating services and straight-up crack whores on the street most dismiss and speak down about to others. Yeah, that statement might cause some of you to gasp and say otherwise. Fine if you do so, I frankly don’t care. Who amongst us, at least here in the United States isn’t selling themselves in one way, shape or form? Do most of us not value our time for dollars and salaries, benefits? Don’t we value benefits and vacation time?

Can one of you tell the difference between any of us here and the life of a whore? Is it Christianity, Judaism, Buddha, Islam, or a host of other organized beliefs or some moral sense of being that states this is horribly wrong?

Here goes: The hooker sucks into them what others have to give for payment. They do this minutes at a shot over the course of their day. Most people spend many hours a day taking in the bullshit that hurts their spirit, feelings and take the advice of others to sooth them, no different than a whore, proclaiming: Suck it up!



Since July 2012 I’ve gone on a great many treading into nature and industrial landscapes paths. These are a few things people shared with me.

Shooting Arcelor Mittal Cleveland Steel Works, I had a woman approach me about a mile from Steelyard Commons. I was standing in knee-high weeds and poison ivy wearing shorts and sandaled feet. She was dressed in the tiniest of shorts that did not cover dark pubic hair running down her inner thighs and a hot-pink tube covering her breasts. Noticing bonelike fingers placed soundly on her hips, their nails chipping hues that once matched her skimpy top, being a Hood-Rat, I knew where this would go.

“Hey, Hon. Want to take a roll in the grass?”

“This ain’t grass, darlin’. This is weeds and nasty Ivy. You want to risk that?” My stomach began to violently churn about. Tied in knots only experienced briefly when kicked in the nuts.

“Oh yeah, babeeeeee! Let’s fuck!”

“Nah, I’m busy, sweetpea,”

“You cop?!?”

Beginning to stare away from her, grinning sickly, I said, “would a cop do this?” I then turned my back from her while cocking my head so she could see. I placed my hands below my belly, just under my waste line. I made a few gasps, body beginning to writhe about, I blew bodily fluid from me.

“Damn Taco Bell to hell!” I said as I puked my stomach to weeds and other things. I would have doubled over and fell if she hadn’t taken me into her arms from behind me, hands across my chest.

“Y’ain’t Jones’ng baby. I know this. No addict talks like you. D’ats fo-show.” she spoke behind me as she went into ghetto-speak.

Thinking as I do , ‘okay, gonna upchuck in front of a stranger. How cool is that???’

I asked her to release me so I could hit the Earth on my knees and finish my guts desire. She did, but I did feel her hands take the small of my waist, maintaining contact. I heard the rens of the mills overhead cranes and trains bay sincere warnings to others they’d cross. Smelling July foliage, coke gas and my very own puke, my odd mind thought, ‘who is this woman that holds me?”

Turning to her, my beard covered with spent burritos, refried beans and whitish froth, eyes watering. She reached into her backpack and pulled out a roll of Scott Towels half wides. Still on knees, she crouched toward me, her green eyes boring into mine. So gently she wiped my face, clearing it.

Sirens of the mills overhead cranes and trains bay sincere warnings to others they’d cross. Smelling July foliage, coke gas and my very own puke, my odd mind thought, ‘who is this woman that holds me?”

“Let me do this,” she quietly said to me, reaching into her backpack once again. She pulled out a bottle of Aramis cologne.



“No! Sorry! You wouldn’t happen to carry the Jenn Aniston fragrance, would you?” I am such an ass. I could smell like a man all the time, but I do like Jen’s Perfume. I have never smelled this scent on any human that had any interest in me whatsoever.

Recoiling, leaning tiny well shaped ass to the backs of her heels, smiling, she puts her right hand into the pink and black backpack now nestled in the weeds and such.

I have no idea why, but this woman so many would label an insignificant whore, begins to cry. So emaciated is she, so svelte, so very fragile. Her skeletal right hand pulls the smell of my wanting.

“Should I shoot this above us?”

“yes, Please do so,” I say as I place my hands on her hips as I rise to meet her fully.

She sprayed Jen above us. So delightfully sweet, the smell of light flowers amongst that of barf, weeds and the many foul men she’d know this day.

“Day by Day,” I threw out there to her as she yanked me closer.

“Three things I pray,” her eyes, face brightening, lips curling happily. She began to clap her hands.

“Day by day, oh dear lord, three things I pray…” I respond.

Violently, tossing her dirty hair backward, seagulls screeching and mixtures of perfume, weeds and upchuck fill the air, they begin to sing together.

“To see more clearly…” we sing in time with one another, bodies connected. I have her hips met with mine as our chests lightly touch. Our spit hits each others face. Cherishing this moment in time, I take her saliva into my mouth as she does mine.

“Day by Day!” Clapping in rhythm we sing. Godspell.



WHOOOOOOUP WOOOOOOOOUP!

She and I look over our shoulders and find a Cleveland Police car and two cops looking at us. Standing tall in their blues as the sun strolls to the West, winding this another chronicle for their hooker diaries, they asked: “Stand at attention, please.” a rookie asks.

“What are you doing?” the senior Cop inquires.

Her and I, both fully dressed, take each others hands as we rose facing them. My eyes and hers never strayed from each other. I saw so many brake lights splash as their drivers the red and blues with my peripheral vision.

She cocked her head to me as she said, “That’s what dreams are made of….”

Following her lead as she did mine. I screamed, “ WE BELONG IN A WORLD WHERE ALL MUST BE STRONG, THAT ‘S WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF!”

“AND IN THE END, WE WILL DEFEND , CUZ THAT’S WHAT LOVE IS MADE OF,” Her voice hitting the brilliance of that of an opera singer.

We sang Van Halen as we did GodSpell. Smiles, bodies and eyes never leaving each others as the cops dismissed up as they didn’t want to deal with the paperwork.

“So baby dry your eyes, and all the tears you’ve cried,”

 

Twin Black and White Challengers heading down the road away from her and I, their v-8 exhaust growling as it goes away like an unwanted bee getting quiet.

Catching her eye in mine, we begin to laugh. In my life, so seldom do I encounter such locking. Allowing them to be the deer in your headlights.

We undressed each other in tall grass and weeds. We embraced. We did not make love or have sex. We did stare at each others forms.

“Visions of an empty room,” we whispered to each other.

“Just spread your broken wings, we’ll get higher and higher….”

Who knows what any of us will find……..

I pulled her naked body to mine. Her thighs and hips sparking blue arcs with their connecting as they touched me. Drawing back, her standing nipples dancing across my chest, we rose and stood in RA’s clear fading light.

She says: “If I could love-”

“I know you do or would if you could.” I conclude

“You are?” her voice nearly choking, face contorting.

“I am no different than you,” I say to her as I lift her face to look and seek sky.

We sing Day by Day for nearly 90 minutes til her phone calls to  her. Another client desiring her attention.

               We part

             She may be a whore.

                I am no stranger in my walk than Hers.  Hers is cap'd because she has earned  my respect.
               This entry goes...

                    i talk to her from time to time. We embrace and kiss.

                               I Walk with Strangers. Do you walk at all?
               
                                    Mark William Darus 10112012

                                                          

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Part Three: Photography and what inspires a Hunter.



                         Photography and what inspires a Hunter. Part Three.

                                        
                    The rush of crashing water surrounds me with its sound.

                                            
Nature has always fascinated me. I've been fond of the rough seas of Lake Erie. Taking these photos took a massive amount of patience I did not know i had.

If life sprang from the water, I have to believe dancing waters are its labor pains as if gives further life. Take a moment to think about this: Without water, we'd be doomed. Protect our precious seas!
                 

 
 


Above shot: I cannot believe I caught a gull in this one. 'click to enlarge'
 

 
 
Above: slow exposure time to create the wedding veil. I really love this camera and how it is so willing to work with me.

 Sometimes, not catching the flying beads of flying water has its place.
 
 
 
Above: Like the fingers of one so trusted,  gently running through their lovers beautiful white hair ever so passionately.
 

 
In conclusion:
 
Serenity in Violent Crashing.
a poem.
 
standing tiny before you
meeting you
 you speak to me
words many won't take time to listen
your loving words
Embrace me
granting warmth without condition
take me beyond
the price of living
 petty tribulations
 you freely give this to all
 
with awaiting eyes i stare at you
Knowing not what you see in me
yet you dance
you shine
parade proudly
granting me a show
that can never be copied
duplicated
didgitally recreated
no matter how long i walk here
 
Gentle provider of occasional violent waters
Giving so very much
asking us for nothing
I am small before you
I will never neglect you
I'll always love you.
 
Mark William Darus 10092012
 

Monday, October 8, 2012

Part two: Photography and the Hunter. Inspirations.



                  Photography and what inspires a Hunter.Part 2.
                                     by Mark William Darus

                                          Part one of this entry.
                                               Cleveland Steel


                       This world of fire, heat and stench has been a huge part of my life on many levels throughout my life. My grandfather worked for Corrigon-Mikiney during the birth of Cleveland steel making. My father joined him when we was none as Republic Steel and my sister joined my father there. She has seen the Cleveland Works change many hands in 30 years there and survived one the mills darkest  periods in its fine history: The rise and fall of LTV steel.

LTV had many definitions over its term of life in Cleveland and Ohio in general. When I worked as a driver for ABAR MFG, I drove in and out the the Cleveland, Warren, Youngstown, Louisville as well as Alliquippa PA. In the span of five years, from an outsiders view, I witnessed the self destruction  and closing of quite a few operations and plants. To so many, LTV stood for Long Term Vacation, and my favorite, Liars, Vulcher's and Thieves.

            When I felt comfortable once again with camera in hand, I began to aim and shoot. Out of the several hundred taken, I thought these my best.

 

 



Above is the William G. Mather Museum. This decommissioned vessel is a museum. This grand ship once traveled the Great Lakes and brought needed raw materials up the mighty Cuyahoga river to the Mills. I believe this museum an amazing visit. Trust me, the lenghty tour does not disappoint.
 

Above shot: I have some clue about the  smoke released here is. Here are my thoughts on this. We can eliminate all sources of pollution and seem to have done so with such amazing ease that we have managed to  create a cleaner level of living.  
 
        With our 'not in my backyard' philosophy that many a great city has been brought to its knees and moved overseas due to mandated regulations, we have successfully killed not only tens of thousands of jobs, but have crushed Northern US manufacturing into oblivion.  Sure, many live longer nowadays, but at what level of living? With the loss of the very jobs that created Cleveland, it's as though we have forgotten how those jobs made it possible to put a child through college without having to take out school loans, that when paid, equal the equivalent debt of buying a hundred thousand dollar house.
 
Yeah, we have cleaner air, but at what cost was this created? I think it's nice we breathe easier, but what good is that while so many cannot afford to pay simple utility bills?
 
Sorry, I got a bit preachy. Before I close this, I am compelled to say this: Both my parents died of various cancers. They both passed at the age of 65.
 
As a child, driving with my father down I-77 North, I so remember seeing the sight of mill-fire. These flames were created for the burning off of polluting gases to make the air cleaner. Always watching with a sense of awe and its raw beauty, I always remarked to my dad: Wow, that's OZ! Right, daddy?
 
 
 
 
Part two of this entry: titled:
That's what dreams are made of.
Just spread your wings.
 
This was a shot taken in July 2012. My first gull shot in over twenty years. This was a starting point on the subject wings.
 
 
I find it most ironic that  my mind has always been held captive by things with wings yet how i have never left the surly bonds of Earth. Well, that is,  except for taking many a jump while downhill skiing, mostly ending in crashing as gravity caught my legs unprepared.
Oh well, live and learn. At least I never broke body parts with many a failed landing. Hmmm, maybe that's why I have never been on anything that parted any company of our planet with others...
 
Wings over us.
As the above aircraft, as she popped a strong wheelie, left me, I wondered where its passengers were going to, what they were leaving behind them, and what they felt, if anything.  As she headed to the clouds and other places far and away from anything I have yet to see and experience,  I remember getting many an odd glance and comment when I screamed "YES!"
             A well dressed woman with huge amounts of gold jewelry, sporting a highly hair sprayed blond hair-helmet asked me if I had ever seen a plane take off before. Personally, I love such condescending remarks from those displaying such higher status than I. I slowly turned my head toward her and said: "If you don't find such amazing, why the fuck are you wasting so much of your precious time for asking me that question as you see what I do?"
             Well, after about 5 minutes of  taking many other exhilarating shots, this ladies husband approached me. Obviously taking some flack for not immediately defending her, my sound peripheral vision catching him venturing into my space in an unfriendly fashion, I smirked and asked him if he'd like some beef jerky without changing my stance with right eye still in viewfinder. <Okay, I do take a great deal of narcissistic pride in my ability to throw people off guard with the absurd things I can say. Call it a well learned and highly astute defense mechanism, but I will always throw one off before they get physical with me. Knowing 'fight or flight', I was most prepared. I am not prone to flight.> I met him eye to eye as I stood in the shadow of a tree, catching him squarely. I knew very well he could not see my eyes.

"What did you just say to me?" he said as his approach decreased in speed like the Jets and turbo-props landing before me as I cocked my frame toward him.

Lowering my voice so that his woman could not hear, I inquired, "Got it rough, ain't ya? Sorry, but she had it coming, man. I asked you if you wanted to beef jerky." I then walked from my Fuji and Slik tripod toward my Trailblazer and opened the drivers side door. I kept this man in side-sight, and he stopped fast, startled. Taking into consideration, had this man been a hard-core, he would have reacted quicker than five minutes to my counter at his woman, I knew I'd be okay. I grabbed my a bag of Sweet Baby Ray's and offered it to him.

"Whoa, I thought you were gonna shoot me." His voice, almost spoken in a wispy voice like that of Amy Grant.

Stepping from shadow to clear light visible for him to see me, "why would you think that?" I ask such things for reasons I'll keep to myself when people make snide remarks aimed at me and send others to confront me.

"I don't understand what you mean?"

Aligning myself between he and his leash holder, head turned slightly to the left, I told him firmly how to save face, and just maybe, how to get layed by her tonight. "Just throw your arms about. Yell at me, call me an asshole, threaten me." However, I did caution him to not call me a son-of-a-bitch. My mom was not a bitch, and I will get physical with any man that fires this at me.

Wow, this man possessed such a slow learning curve I felt he must be either a lotto winner or one that inherited a fortune to have the woman covered in gold and frozen hair in such a high wind.

Took a bit of prodding, but he did do what I suggested and promptly whispered an apology to me.

I gave him a gentle smile to leave. I also changed my smile, baring my teeth like that of predator, and physically sent him a message to get her the fuck away from me. He most quickly did, hopefully saving face with her, perhaps getting his boat on a trip to tuna town.

Got long winded once again, but that is what happened about that shot.

The above capture. Caught by its hard banking and screaming engines, I jumped up and down like a child. Loving roller coasters, g-forces, i cannot imagine what those feel as this event courses through them.
 
About this: Yeah, way grainy and though it clearly does not say this, I did see this. At first glance, to me, I saw: "OH NO!"  I can be do 'out there,' at times.
 
One this one: First time I was granted the splendor of a bird in flight as it called out to others.
 
Got this one during the Cleveland Airshow 2012 from Clark Field. What these pilots can do as they dazzle others with is phenomenal at such high rate of speeds. As they passed above me, my body pounded by the thrust of their mighty engines miles away, take my grounded spirit soaring higher.

The Wright brothers created another life for humanity to achieve further with their beliefs. In time, their thoughts of flight would much further still...

                                           
                                              Part Three of this entry.
                                                       Our Moon.

This was my first digital entry back to the moon. I liked this one, if for no other reason, the trees in the foreground.
 
Loved this one! The first time in over 15 years I saw craters. Not too bad for a camera with only 24x zoom, great manual setting ability and a fantastic Slik tripod to hold her steady with a long exposure times. When I uploaded this to my HP, I gasped.

                                        Blue Moon in overcast skies.

 
What can any of us say about the moon? Apparently, many are governed by its presence strolling across the astral plains with us.
 
Part four.
Walking with Strangers.

I walked many paths the last  three months. Winding, rising, falling, twists and turns, meeting many a person that stopped to share as well as many on bikes that merely said 'passing left', 'passing right' and the occasionally asshole that hit me. I know how to tumble with impact as decades of skiing taught me this. I always stood to the sides of paved trails. Too bad these morons that struck me had not to same skills as I. Yeppers, they cartwheeled and in two cases, tomahawked as they left their bikes. They blamed me for their striking me. Why? Because I had a camera. I truly believe there is no end to man kinds stupidity.

There are so many areas we can explore, wondrous sights to behold if we'd just get off our asses and take a walk. C'mon, what's left of thoughtful, emotional humanity, and just throw on a pair disposable or water worthy Gators and take an hour in a single month of time and see what I see.


                                      
                                    To the shot below this statement. I know fully well this is neither vibrant nor solid for photography sake, I did enjoy this shot. When i saw it full sized on my HP, I was most contented. I walked this trail on a rainy day and caught another blue hereon that stood most proudly. I covered my Fuji in a Sav-a-Lot bag and hoped for the best. <<this days shoot, i was only trying to make another book cover possible by its authors desire and grace toward me>> I caught a few pathway photos this day of chill and rain.                             
 
I have something to say about the photograph below this.
Just take a walk up natures stairway before you. Touch the moss, smell the brisk autumn air caress you, feel the leaves fall upon you. Can you just silence your cellphones for a few moments?
As babies begin to crawl, learn to walk and eventually run, can all of us just take a few moments from horrendously busy lives to just simply 'be' in the here and now?
 
 
              Authors Note on Photography and what inspires a Hunter.
Part 2.
 
There is so much for us to share.
 
Over the decades, I'd like to believe I shared such wondrous things with my children, my nephew and many others not related by blood/DNA.
Over the years, especially in the last several, I believe I failed on this. I so crashed and burned helping them almost losing myself in the process.
 
This did not bother me as I did the best I could.
 
They so cling to phones and text when they could so talk to those mere blocks from them. If not fallen to technology, they seem to be so caught in depths of immediate desperation for feedback that no matter what beauty I can point out, they shut themselves down.
 
I think via F-book and this blog, perhaps I have some redemption. Globally,  I seem to make some infinitesimal  sense to others with both with written thoughts and photos.
 
 
                This is the end of part two of  Photography and what inspires a Hunter.Part 2.
 
It is with my hopes you found this something meaningful in your lives.
 
Take care of you and your corner of the world,
Mark William Darus