In September of last year, Miranda and I did a strange thing: we came back to New York, not as residents but as visitors. Perhaps unsurprisingly, Manhattan was still there. I’d say it was waiting for us, but the truth is that New York waits for nobody.
I took a few pictures, as I tend to.
Yet more overdue photos.
On September 8, 2007, my dear friends Fred Cooper and Susan DiLeo were married, and I had the honor of officiating.
About half of these photos were taken by Miranda, as my super-powers do not extend to being in two places at the same time.
Okay, last one for tonight.
One of my geekier… okay, probably hands-down my geekiest obsession is videogames. Not World of Warcraft or anything of that ilk, but videogames: big cabinets with blocky graphics and beepy sounds that you experienced in these wondrous places called “arcades” with hundreds of your fellow caffiene-intoxicated 16-year-olds, preferably under black lights with terrible 80s buttrock playing on an overvolted PA system.
…ah, nostalgia. Arcades basically don’t exist any more (except occasionally as adjuncts to laser-tag facilities and amusement parks), and “arcade games” are these days a backwater of an industry that long since moved into the living room. But for a few days each summer in California, a bunch of die-hards go through a ridiculous amount of physical effort to build the arcade to end arcades: hundreds of vintage videogames and pinball machines, some of them stupefyingly rare or never released at all, all set on free play in a conference hall in San Jose. It’s called California Extreme, and 2007 was the first year that I was ever able to attend.
What follows are, for the most part, pictures of old video and pinball games. I suspect that for most people, this is about as boring as pictures of streetlights or parking garages. But if you’re a certain kind of nerd — my kind of nerd — this stuff is better than porn.
Well, better than most porn.
In August of 2007, I got to help put on her final performance piece for her studies at the California Institute for Integral Studies. The piece was, well, I’ll let her describe:
“Snow White Lies in Wait” was meant to explore the evolution of myth as a community building tool designed to reflect and adapt to the lives of the tellers, to a static medium (i.e. through books and movies) appropriated by the aristocratic bourgeoisie as a didactic tool used to impart moral lessons and capitalist ideology. The piece involved hanging 20 apples from hooks pierced through my legs.Yours truly and Melissa Gira did gofer and photo/video work, while two professional piercers handled the more delicate aspects of the performance.
Just in case the last bit didn’t register: this photoset involves blood, needles, and hooks in flesh. (Also the abuse of unsuspecting produce.) There’s no actual nudity, but I’m guessing it’s probably not worksafe in most cases regardless. And did I mention the flesh-hooks? If that sort of thing is unpleasant for you, for the love of god pass on.
Well, it happened again. This time, a problem with the graphics card on my desktop machine at home that I kept not having the time to deal with led to about nine months’ worth of photos — just shy of 500 images — piling up on the camera. I’ll try not to dump all of them here at once.
First up: the 2007 San Francisco Pride Parade. Since watching the parade had been kind of underwhelming in 2006, this time I actually bestirred myself to march with the BiPolyPaganBurningmanPartridge&PearTree contingent. Verdict: I’m still queer, apparently. SubVerdict: the cutoff jean-shorts that looked really cute on me in 1997 have been ruined forever by Arrested Development. Sic transit gloria. Anyway: