Cutting Room Floor

I sort of ended up on the cutting room floor, not really but it feels that way. My segment got cut from the show and they’re using a man who went through the whole process with them. This is the one year anniversary and they want to showcase someone who was a success in their program. I’ll still be on there website and I get a page on YouTube, I’m still invited to the festivities with Dr. Jill Bolte Taylor. She is the woman who was doing research on the human brain and had a stroke and now she does lectures on her visions of god among other thing having to do with the brain. She even gave a talk on Ted.com that you should listen to.

My other news is more positive because it has to do with my future. The lady I’ve been telling you about has had it with the company and is now ready to go out on her own. She had given them until August to buckle down and get something accomplished but nothing positive has happened. She now sees what I’ve been telling her about the partners and there lack of vision and hard work. They’d rather follow unproductive paths than stick to the project at hand. Along with no vision they have no money and can’t generate the confidence to get any. Of course I had to tell her that my vision of the company had to be seen through the filter of my not have being pay yet for my expenses. I also told her that the company was being foolish by my having access to all the images that no patent has been filed for yet. If I wanted to I could steal the idea right out from under them and all for a hundred dollars.

So now that she is getting her business started and I’m going to give her the portions of film that shows her in meeting and holding discussions. Since I’m not getting paid I chose to use my talents to help her get a website going and help her get established. No real money right now but further down the line it should be well worth my time. Everyone I know is in some form of dire circumstances, either they have lost their jobs and are looking for new opportunities. The whole landscape has changed and not for the better in some ways. That’s the way it is in a new world we are facing, survive and change or don’t. The world doesn’t give a damn it just’s keeps turning on and on. That’s what I was talking about in last post with my talk of gumption. Life doesn’t stand still for no one and only the strongest survive. You have to go out there and make a new life and reinvent yourself for the age you find yourself in.

I’m facing a number of obstacles from some of the choices I made in my life. Many are the consequences of my stroke and the lingering effect of it. I don’t feel I am able to hold down a full time job, I haven’t the stamina for it. But I can play the game and give advice that might helpful and surly won’t hurt. I’ve been asked to sit on her board once she has set that part of her business. In the meantime I can help with the website, I can photograph her rise in business and be a trusted advisor. I aim to reinvent myself and to make myself a new life that I can work at until I am able to work no more for real. I don’t aim to be a dinosaur till the very end of my creative life and that’s somewhere in the dim future.

Gumption

Today I’d like to talk about gumption, as you know the definition is shrewd initiative and resourcefulness . Like my project I need gumption to make this project work, if one way fails, try another and see how that goes. That’s the first lesson that I learned in dealing with my stroke by the way but more on that later. The lady I’m dealing with certainly has the gumption to get this project moving in the right direction. She’s consumed with the passion of her arguments and a desire to move mountains in her drive to reach the goals she has set, no doubt in my mind about that. She doesn’t need steering in any way, shape or form; she needs ideas to try on and see how they fit and she can use my contacts. It’s a good fit for me to be a sounding-board for her to bounce ideas and frustrations off of. This Friday is the deadline she set for things to improve and to get rolling in the right direction and if not then she’s open to my suggestions.

August 04 is the first anniversary for the Stoke Center of San Antonio, and my testimonial is set to debut. I’m really looking forwards to this event and I’m going to try to parlay that into opportunities for me as well. I don’t know yet how I’ll work that magic but I’ll just take the event as it happens and see. I’m eager to help people who’ve had a stroke or a brain injury to get started on the path to whatever recovery is possible for them. I understand that many are injured beyond repair but I feel all can be helped. You know that school yard chant that it take one to know one, I know that by being their in their shoes I can bring them some comfort and some hope. Whether they take that help or not is up to them but if they’re willing to get better I can show them what they can accomplish with hard work and the proper mind-set. The opportunities are there for the taking if you want them it only lack the shrewd initiative and the resourcefulness to bring them to fruition.

This is a chance to reset my career goals into something that will bring me joy and will help a number of people to benefit from my knowledge and experiences. I’ll still be able to use my photography skills and maybe even a book in the works. But the idea is to be of help or comfort a maximum number of people possible. When you have a life changing event and you are really at a loss for what to do it helps if you have some guidance for what to expect and what your chances are. Again, I realize that there are many people unable or unwilling to get better. Too many find the exercises too hard or too silly to make the effort to recover. Or they find the attention they’re getting too irresistible and willingly give in instead of fighting for their future and the freedom of movement. There’s no comfort for them, I’m only willing to help the fighters to survive and to get well or better. Whatever they’re capable of I’m willing to help in they’re time of need but you have to be willing to get well yourself before anyone can help you.
This is my goal for the foreseeable future, I’m not willing to give up yet or to be stuck in a dead in job, it’s no way to live out my life even if I’m over sixty. I’ve got a lot of years left in me and I’m very positive about life and making the best of the years I have left.

Vada

I forgot to mention Vada in my post the other day. She is a terrific model very positive and playful. I enjoy working with her and I've got to get her back in front of my camera soon. If you're in the College Station area give her a chance, she's a very nice girl.

Twenty One

Forty years ago tonight men landed on the moon. Forty years ago I was a twenty-one year old kid touring around the North-East briefly staying in Newport Rhode Island for the Folk Festival. It was the event of my lifetime, Joan Baez, Rambling Jack Elliot and Doug Kershaw were among the performers I saw in person. The moon landing was just part of the show as far as I was concerned, another young kid was perched atop a VW Micro Bus holding an umbrella over a B&W television broadcasting the moon-walk live. I remember like it was yesterday, in fact it was a yesterday long ago.

Milling through the crowd of other young people, making friend for as long as the show lasted, sharing cigarettes and all manner of mind altering stuff like reality. After the show I’d drove my own Micro Bus back to the campground I was staying at, really a State Park that didn’t allow overnight visitors. I’d made friends with the park caretaker over coffee one morning and he told the State Trooper I was OK and the deal was set. My only other night time companions were some other kids like me but with camping equipment. That night I returned to find some bikers having a party a few tables away from me. They had an interest in my bus and the person that was staying inside and I decided to grab the bull by the horns and went over to visit.

They got very tense as I walked up and introduced myself and told them about the State Trooper that came through to check on me and my van. I told them that they could have the party but it was way better to have it away from me down in the corner where the trooper didn’t check. They were so happy to have avoided any type of confrontation with me and to be warned of the cop that they gave me some beers and thanked me. As I got back into my van, thinking how nice they turned out to be I saw the lights from the trooper car. I had a nice quiet night enjoying my beers and the peace and quiet of the night and the night entertainment. Not the least of which was the trooper protect me.

I could tell you of the whole week I spent in Rode Island, the girl I met along the seawall or the lovely night she spent with me or the romantic predawn swim we had in the fresh ocean’s water. But I want to tell you about coffee instead, coffee is the great equalizer to the traveler. Every morning I’d get up and put a pot of coffee on to brew. People seldom bother a man waiting for his morning brew no matter how officious they are. And offering a cup of fresh brewed is the way to anyone’s heart and their companionship. Life unfold over coffee and it’s somehow wrong to tell a lie so early in the morning. And of course being a young fresh face kid on an adventure helped my cause immensely. Never once did I realize how impossibly young and naive I was that summer. I was involved in the adventure of my still young lifetime and nothing would deter me from my quest.

Project

Life is that which happens to us while we are busy planning our futures. My project is taking a lot longer than I had expected, in fact it might not ever get off the ground. The problem is the management team is floundering around from project to project letting there attention get scatter like so many leaves in the wind. The main man has a perfectly good project under wraps but lacks the vision to bring his project to fruition and that is so sad. It’s not like this is rocket science, he’s done the hardest part and that to think up the idea and build a prototype. But he lacks the vison to see his project through and has filled his life with people who also lack the vision or experience to guide him beyond their own selfish needs. So the whole project is going to fall by the wayside for lack of direction.

I wouldn’t mind so much but this is a green project that will help a lot of people in their moment of need and beyond. Emergency Housing in a new a different way that FEMA is in dire need of done in a new a different way. None of the Formaldehyde fumes and a pop-together wall structure that can be put together in different configurations quickly and can be shipped by air or rail. Now a woman involved with the project is a real go getter and really sharp, she got my attention very quickly and has potential. She has the vision and see’s the potential that the other lack but I fear she is getting discouraged by the lack of control at the top. I’d like to be part of her team if she has the gumption to put one together and take over the hard work on getting the grants, doing the governments paperwork and all the headache involved with getting a new project off the ground. As I say she has experience and I think has the drive. Certainly her background in solar work and knowledge of the working of the government give her a leg-up so we’ll see. Stay tuned as the adventure continues and see if this can be part of my new life. Only time will tell.

On the other hand I went to the Second Saturday Art festivities the other night and had a blasts. All sort of wonderful art on display with all the artist in attendance to talk up their work and give it depth. Really got my creative juices flowing to get back into the game but I don’t know if it’s really time yet. No one seems to be buying art or anything else right now and the gallery owner isn’t doing any cartwheels as of late. But it gave me a feel for the life again and maybe soon the timing will be right for a return. But it was a young crowd and I didn’t see any buyer type there only people looking to have a good time and maybe that’s what it’s all about now. Everybody is crying the blues but still people are shooting and models are working and traveling so things can’t be that bad can they now.

Crotch Shot

I’d like to thank Dr. Lightness for her informative post on taboos and the crotch shots. I want to say a word or two about the crotch shot and my conflicted views on them also. I think they can be an invasion of privacy and should be used in an artistic and limited way. Plus as a man they call for an amazing amount of trust by the ladies involved. I have posted one of my shots here on my blog but you can’t see who she is and I would never tell, again I think it’s a matter of keeping her privacy intact. As I said in my blog I wanted for my model to be almost androgynous rather than a female who was built more sensuously. I had a statement that I want to make and I didn’t want to take away from that message. As you can see by the image posted here I got the shot I wanted for the Gallery Lombardi Erotica Show and it got a goodly viewing. I invited my model to show her how the work was shown and in what context because it was her first time to be in a show.

Another shot I did with a girl, and I do mean girl as she was twenty when we shot, I asked her permission to have her squat. I explained how the sun was positioned and how the shadows would fall and I ask her if I could shoot a polaroid first. Then I explained how I wasn’t sure how much detail I was going to get in the final print but I told her how I would protect her privacy. She allowed me to shoot and you’ll have to take my word it was a wonderful image. Because you can see who she is I’ll never post it again to protect her privacy. I feel I owe that to my models.

Let me say a word here about my models, at a minimum they are eighteen, my preference is for them to be at least in their mid-twenty’s or older. I believe you need some age to prepare yourself to model nude . In your early to mid-twenties you’ve had so time to live and get some experience under you’re belt. You have a better idea of who you are and where your place is. Your brain is more mature and you make better decisions mostly. One model I worked with was eighteen and I noticed her because her had a portfolio that was all nudes and not very good one at that. So by agreeing to work with me I was able to provide a little common sense to her attitude to modeling.

This is the way I prefer to work, it may seem a little convoluted but considering how I sometimes work with very young models who haven’t considered the ramifications of shooting nudes yet. I feel I owe them the respect they show to me and my artistic endeavors. Have I always felt that way, no but I too am a work in progress and I do learn from my mistakes and I try to do better. I’m not the same person I was before my stroke, I have slowed down and had a chance to think about things and a better way to relate to my subjects now. There was a time that I was caught up in that drive to make my mark and to get attention as an artist no matter what the cost. But my stroke gave me a chance to get my feet firmly underneath me and to consider my limits and my priorities. Now I’m ready to begin the hunt anew with a more generous spirit and revised goals. I’ve learned to live in my skin a little better and I’ve learned to be more loving.

So a convoluted way of shooting and thinking. yes but a much fairer way of thinking. I have many shots I can’t use because of my models sensibilities. But I have many more shots that are equally special because of the level of trust that my models and I share and you can’t beat that.

Shower

There were fun times in my therapy, I had to make them happen to keep myself sane. My therapists made an easy target because I worked with them everyday and we built up quite a rapport . I’d been on the main floor about a week, my catheter had been taken out and I was getting used to the wheelchair. I was beginning to get comfortable, maybe a little too comfortable with my situation and I was beginning to smell. You’d think that that would be the least of my problems but you’d be wrong. One weekend while waiting for breakfast to be distributed I was wheeling myself down the hall looking for the linen closet. When at last I found it I quickly grabbed some towels and took them back to my room. Then I waited until rounds had been done, breakfast trays had been collected and the nurses had settled into their morning routine. Then I close my door, collected my towels and wheeled myself into the bathroom.

I’d spent the day before checking out the shower, how it worked and how the bench fold ed down from the wall. The only thing left was to get myself maneuvered from the wheelchair onto the shower bench. Never for a moment did I think of removing the side of my wheelchair to make things easier, instead I locked the chair down and lifted myself onto the edge of the bench and then maneuvered, with only one hand working, I got myself onto the middle of the bench. When the water was just right I began my wonderful shower, maybe the best shower of my adult life and soaped myself well. With that one hand I got every part I could reach and then some. Then I took the time to dry myself and then I was stuck. With only one side of my body working and that side towards the inside corner of the shower stall I really had to figure my way out and without tipping over. But somehow I managed to get back into my wheelchair and I felt so good for having accomplish the task of getting myself clean. The next day the nurse asked me if I wanted to have a shower and I though why not and promptly got into trouble. This time I couldn’t stop myself from tipping over onto my bad side and almost fell off the bench and to the floor. I was shocked into realizing how precarious my state was and now I was very leery of taking a shower at all.

A few day later it was posted on my wall that I’d be learning the next day how to get into the shower stall and could finally take a shower but I’d be accompanied by a therapist. Somehow the idea of being “accompanied” by a twenty-four old therapist didn’t sound attractive in the least. My therapist was a lovely girl I’d come to rely on to help me with my exercises and we’d gotten close. So dressed she showed me how to pull up the side of my wheelchair and how best to maneuver myself to the bench. I practiced two or three time til I had the thing down pat and then we were ready for my shower. It wasn’t the way I’d envisioned at all but boy was it intimate; I had to strip bare ass naked under her too watchful gaze and get myself situated and she pointed out what I was doing right and wrong. She was so concerned that I’d topple over and she didn’t want that to happen to me. I was grateful but I was resentful too that I had to have her watch me while I took my shower like a child but hey, when you’re in the condition I was in you take all the help you can get.

But..., but I was determined to get back at her somehow and I got my chance when my friend Lorri came to take me home from the hospital. She had to go through training with me so she’d know the right way to handle me, to learn what I knew but had a tendency to forget. So when Lorri show up I introduced her to my therapist as the girl who watched me shower! And then I sat back and laughed as my therapist blushed and explained the how’s and wherefore before Lorri told her she was a nurse too and had seen so many bare assess that she couldn’t count. It was almost as good as the shower.

------------------------------------
My friend Traci

Exercises

After my formal therapy was over I was at a loss for what exercises I could do. For the past eighteen months I had a set routine that I executed every other day, now I was unsure what to do. I really felt a type of rejection and a emptiness in my soul and in my life. I had a nice graduation from therapy and a even nicer certificate to commemorate my having survived hours of every know torture to humans, some they had to work at thinking up. I decided that since I was going off to visit my friend in the northeast I’d let myself rest and catchup on myself. After all that therapy I needed the time to think and get organize for my trip. I had a full list of exercises I could and was supposed to do but I couldn’t get interested in them for some reason, they just didn’t feel right.

By the time I left I was ready for a change of scenery and a change to my lifestyle too; I was ready for some togetherness. We started by taking long drives in the country to acquaint myself with the territory, north and south, east and west; where I was in relation to where I was now living. Long lovely drives into the countryside seeing places I never been before but would see again. I was so happy to be away from the heat of Texas and away from therapy and my doctors and the routine of my life. Letting my friend show me her part of the world, the little wonders she’d know for a lifetime and could now share them with me, the little nooks and crannies of her hometown and beyond. But my aliments followed me and tortured me just the same.

Just walking up the stairs exacerbated the pain in my hip, my buttock to be precise. I went for therapeutic massage and that did relieve my pain but it was climbing the two flight of stairs each day that really helped. I started helping my friend around her garden at first, nothing major just emptying each pail as she filled them with weeds and cuttings. Then we got to mulching dragging each bag out of the car and back to they were needed. Little by little I was getting more in toned so then I began taking longer walks. By the time fall came I was ready to try raking, just yards at a time then sit and rest, then rake a bit and rest again, I only finished the side yard but I felt like I accomplished something. I so very slowly was getting stronger and more toned, I was walking better and longer. Little by little each household chore that I did built up my strength. Balance continued to be an issue over uneven territory but a walking stick helped. Now I was learning a new routine to my day, a routine that I could follow when I returned home and for the rest of my life really. I could feel myself getting better and it was long after the eighteen months that my doctor had warn me against.
Walking at home presented a problem at first, too many loose dogs in the neighborhood. Too much stress for me to cope with on top of an already stressed system, so I stopped. At least in the neighborhood, I started walking in the park where there weren’t any dogs. The I started taking bags along on my walks and started picking up trash. Don’t laugh it was excellent exercise bending and walking, I’d do three bags each time I walk and it cleaned up the park too. I started cleaning up my apartment too, dusting the floors and washing them. It like to kill me at first but it kept me in shape and worked my muscle too. I even learned to work my arm in cleaning the mirrors in the bathroom and cleaning the tub. Worked every muscle in my body little by little..., and I never had to pay a gym either or a cleaning lady for that matter.

I’m sharing some tips I learned the hard way, never but never give up. Keep inventing ways to work out that you can learn at your own pace that mean something valuable in your life. Instead of learning to type with two fingers try to type as always, so it’s not easy, so what. Learn to push yourself to do things to try to get back to where you were before your stroke or head injury. I feel that my stroke was a landslide in my brain, all the pathways I knew over a lifetime were blocked. It wasn’t my hand or leg that was injured it was my brain. I had to relearn all those pathways I knew so well. Even if you can’t make the connection I feel the road to recovery begins with the will to survive. Each step to normalcy, each little step that you can accomplish leads to bigger steps and those steps will lead you somewhere you need to be.

B-Roll

Next week or two I’m supposed to do the B-roll of my testimonial, my fifteen minutes of fame is still two months away but I want to be ready. So I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to say and why. After I had my stroke I couldn’t think, things just came to me with no preconceive notions. By the time I was able to take my cooking class I got angry about it but didn’t quite know why. I just knew that my way out was though my strength and not by learning to be handicapped. I supposed that I knew instinctively that my muscles still worked, my hand, arm and leg weren’t damage the control for them wasn’t working correctly.

I always maintained that I had a landslide in my brain, as in any landslide the mountain that was me had collapsed and the pathway to “me” were blocked. I had to find a way to reestablish those connections again to make myself move as I used to. I needed to find a new path to me and to make that path(s) as smooth as possible; I was a child again learning to tie my shoes. The doctors weren’t much help either, the doctor is like a weather forecaster, he could tell me from his experience with others what my chances were but he couldn’t be sure one hundred percent. Nobody would know for sure until I did or did not recover. I had a lot to lose and I wasn’t prepared for that, I didn’t know any better so I just figured that I’d recover. Make no mistake it wasn’t easy or painless but it was either recover or live in a nursing home for the rest of my life. I chose recovery and I guess my stubbornness came to my rescue. I can be an obstinate son of a bitch, I want to do things the right way, my way.

So that’s what I did, I was more than willing to have help and guidance in my quest for me. But the more that I worked to get my strength back the more I knew I was on the right track for me. There were milestones along the way, markers for the progress that I was making. As each slid past I’d make up a new milestone, one’s that my therapist had to invent for me. I was a challenge for them, I forced them to think up new ways to help me and we both took pride in my progress along the way, my way back to me. Even as my progress took me past the eighteen month barrier that they had told me about I could see progress. I didn’t realize it at the time, several month would pass before I realize that I was still progressing. After almost two years and I started back to reading, my joy and pleasure was back and even my laugh was getting better but not the way I remember it. I still can’t sing, those who know me best say I never could but who know, I am hopeful.

And that’s what one desperately need hope, for the future and for the past. To get back to the old/real you. A you that you remember and are comfortable with, a you that fits your memories of you. A you you can be proud of, that you can say you made this happen. OK, so you had a stroke, a car accident, what ever it was that gave you the brain injury, you and you alone made it better, made it back to the old you. Never give up, work until it hurts and work some more. You are unique, you are the only you on the planet, there are no substitutes, know this and live life to it’s fullest. Did I mention never give up?

Birthday

Today I am officially sixty one years old and I don’t feel it. Yes I have ache and pains mostly from my stroke but I’m doing pretty well for a man my age. I must say I kinda surprised to be here, having escaped most of my follies relatively unscathed. In my youth, like all people I felt bulletproof and there weren’t many thing I didn’t try. I was really fearless or stupid, whatever you want to call it about my future. I didn’t feel the need to plan for my welfare or my health, I though I’d figure that out when I was ready. Well I’m ready now to find my way again and I have a hope for my future.

Last week I took a ride down to the sight of the new project that just fell into my lap. I was really impressed with the caliber of the people involved and with their drive and passion. They have a prototype built that has solar, wind and water build right in. Next month they plan a trip to Mexico to look at a site and make their plans to build a self-sustainable community. Very impressive in their scope and will bring a new quality of life to the local inhabitants. A totally green environment that will produce water for their crops and will recycle everything else they need. A very exciting project to be involved with. We even have on board someone to test the soil and suggest native plants that are apropos to the environment.

Of course this has tremendous commercial applications as well, they are in the process of getting the grants and funding that they need to make the technology work. That’s the point were I come into the project to document and to record there progress. I was down to photograph the prototype and the detail’s of how it was built. I shot the most important features of the construction as well as a general overview of the prototype and what features come with this particular product. Not exciting kind of shooting but eventually it should pay my bills. I’m looking for it to pay more than my bills really. I want to get back to shooting my model and creating my art. I have to find some way to sustain my art until it gets rolling and I get some regular clients. This was my plan for the future at the time I had the stroke but that event took up all the air in the room.

I was smart enough to see my age creeping up on me and at age fifty-seven I was starting to shift my work into the more artistic avenues. I could envision the time when I wouldn’t be able to keep up physically with working eight to ten hours a day at event photography. I was planning an orderly transition in life and the focus of my work. But my stroke changed my thinking overnight, I was left battling for my life instead. So many people have told me that I’m inspirational to anyone fighting my situation. Some have call my action heroic but I don’t feel that way at all. I had no choice in my fight, it was either sink or swim really. I could lay there in bed doing nothing or I could put one foot in front of another and get back the life I was used to living. The chose was stark, take it or leave it. I chose life and the pursuit of happiness. A couple of weeks ago I managed to get my testimonial recorded and in it I found a voice to speak to everyone who finds themselves in my condition. I found it important to give people hope and remind them that the doctors never know exactly what there patients are capable of overcoming in their desire to live a full and useful life again. Of course not everyone is as lucky as I am; some never recover and are left crippled for life. But that the way I feel actually, lucky. I am very lucky indeed.