Dear Canon PowerShot 3.2 megapixel digital camera,
You had a really solid two and a half year run, I'd have to say. You made it through several trips to the desert, a few trips across the country, about a dozen moves, numerous hazardous environments involving water and/or electricity,drugs, beer and flooding. You made it through being wrapped in plastic so that I wouldn't get blood on you while photographing the gruesome details of my laboratory job.
You made it through a few hundred times of being dropped, and you faithfully deposited pictures into my equally pulverized iBook even though your lense shutter didn't close anymore and you were so scratched up and beaten that people laughed at me when I took you out.
You even made it through the jungles of Maui and being borrowed by Kavel, the strange, emaciated stinky boy with the pube beard who got voted out of the tantra commune. You made it through waterfalls and dust storms, and over the deep blue ocean to Lana'i.
I'm probably proudest that you made it through burning man, through all the dust storms that blacked out the sun. You kept on shooting even when everyone told me that if you bring a camera to burning man, it would not leave fuctional for all the dust that would end up inside it.
I also got melted chocolate on you so that the playa would stick to you, and to your sockets. You are a fuckin trooper, is what I'm getting at.
No, you faithfully worked until I shot a 300+ suicide girls set for rachel and deposited it onto my equally damaged iBook. You took fabulous pictures day after day on every adventure I've been on for the past two and a half years. And then you died.
So what can I say, you lasted way longer than I or the laws of nature, chaos and gravity could have ever expected you to. I am thoroughly impressed. I'd take a picture of your beat up, sorry state and post it on this blog, but you're dead. Oh well.
love,
Jo
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment