Guilt Trip Feels – Stop Making Sense! – Damian, The Guitarist Space Cowboy

“I should quit this (the blog),” I say to myself pretty often.

But instead, I wake up fucking early and start typing non-sense.


Guilt trip.

I feel guilty for having a guilt trip about being guilty.

Guilty is a funny word to say.


I wrote King Creep as if it was my original idea. Alas, it was not.

That was Cat Donohue, freelance writer and photographer based in Mexico City (but originally from San Francisco). Remember her? I met her in the beginning of this year (post here). This is her page. See. The shit I do is not that special. Her shit is great. It’s better than mine.


She called me King Creep after a Facebook discussion on my invasion of privacy of the homeless. It started my guilt trip. Though I’ve always had this undefined trip that stays with me forever. The guilt trip of being alive.


Yep. I take pictures of homeless people without their permission.

It wasn’t my first time, it’s not my last time.

I take pictures of random people without their permission.

If you are in a public space, you are fair game.

And yes. I am invading your privacy.


Yes. There’s a weird guilt trip associated with that.

I live with it. I manage it.


I wish I didn’t care about shit. The romantic idea of being a drug addict or a heavy alcoholic. It sounds dumb. But can you imagine how it feels to simply not care? Get lost until nothing matters.

And suddenly, some asshole takes your picture.

I don’t think they’ll care about that either (and yes Cat, I know it’s not about them caring, it’s invading someone’s privacy).

The point is. We are all shit. We are all going to die. Might as well enjoy what we do without hurting other people. And maybe. Just maybe. Invade someone’s privacy by taking their picture when they are not looking.


The guilt trip is real.


There are a lot of shittier people. I mean… there’s Roger Stone. And… well… most politicians. Fuck. And most lawyers. And scammers. And others. I wonder if they have a guilt trip.

Yet, here I am, guilt tripping about taking pictures of homeless and other people without their permission.


People think people pose.

They don’t.


  • The picture is a one-second exposure at f-stop 11 and then moving the camera around.

Don Abraham.

Didn’t know his name. Someone on my Instagram let me know that was his name.

He didn’t pose.

That was me walking down the street with my girlfriend on our way back home, flashing the fuck out of everything with the slow shutter. It was only one shot of Don Abraham and I liked it. So I posted it.


When I took pictures of Lindsay Lohan in Hawaii, people thought she posed for me (post here). That’s what the blogs said, “Lohan poses for the paparazzi in Maui.” Or some bullshit similar to that.

She fucking didn’t.

I was hiding in my room like a mother fucking creep with a 500mm lens and shooting behind curtains. She never saw me shooting (until the end of the week).


I liked a lot of the pictures from yesterday.

Taking pictures.

Is what I do.


I ended up shooting 238 yesterday. Edited that shit down to 62.


When people ask me what are my rates for a photoshoot, I have no idea what to say. It’s like… I’m not that type of photographer.

Weddings, landscapes, product photography, other bullshit, I can do it. But people posing/modeling, I’m not good at that. I’m good at taking pictures when people are not looking.


But anyway…. I shot tons yesterday because a guitarist friend wanted someone to take his picture for internet karma points.

Damian. The space cowboy guitarist that wants you to stop making sense.

It looks like he is giving me the thumbs up.

Nope. He hadn’t even seen me then.

Still didn’t see me.

I could have stayed there and taken 200 pictures without him even noticing me.

STOP MAKING SENSE!


I don’t.


After that, we went to the taco birria stand I frequent. And a lot of people frequent. That place is always fucking packed.

There, Damian waited for a guitarist to stop playing, and I got tacos.

The other guitarist only played two chords and his guitar wasn’t even tuned.


He finally stopped and Damian started jamming.

He is good. A video of him playing with nice sound would be great.

The suitcase with a bass pedal gimmick sounds great.

I took shit tons of pictures while he jammed. I tried to not get involved in the scenery to make it more natural.

I’m going to post shit tons of them now. I should just post the whole Imgur album, but at the same time… NAH!

I played with the reflection on the window.

That dude staring like wtf?!

Well… you wtf?! You are wearing a full on suit and carrying what appears to be garbage!

This dude enjoying his taco. Sorry dude. Took your picture without your permission of you devouring a taco. You get fucked. You got posted on a shitty blog.

The lady also enjoying her taco, but she saw me. Boom! Invaded her privacy as well. The dude next to her has epic sideburns.

Close-up.

I guess I didn’t warn Damian that I was going to use the pictures for whatever I wanted…

Busking rules. Kids are the best tippers. Kids will know when it’s bullshit and when it’s real. In fact, the only tips he got for the 20 minutes he played there were a couple of kids.


Switch lenses. Wide angle.

Goddamn do I love that shitty wide angle lens.

I should give it back to Dan soon and buy my own.

Of course, with this lens, I’m right up on his face.

So it ruins the natural setting.


When Damian was done, we went to Pasaje Rodríguez.

He promised me a beer but he didn’t make much on tips. So fuck it, man. All good. Just buy me a beer whenever you have a chance.

There, he jammed some more.

His guitar has a nice round sound to it. Louder than it seems. It’s a great guitar for a street guitar.

That girl joined our table and started hanging out. She seemed to know Damian.

I was drinking a beer and waiting for my girlfriend to get off work while doing some work.


My friend Yesenia walked by. She didn’t see me. I yelled her name and got this picture of her looking all scared. It’s a horrible pic. Sorry Yesenia.

Yesenia and my girlfriend had talked about meeting that day. My girlfriend went home instead of calling me to see if I was going to see her where always.

So I told her we were at the Pasaje hanging out and she headed our way.

A dude came over that knew Yesenia. They were born on the same day and they work together.

The table went from two guys hanging out, to six strangers.


My girlfriend wanted the portobello burger from Colectivo 9 and told the whole table to come with. As if we all knew each other. And we all acted as if we did.


In there, we drank more beers and started playing Jenga. Damian left shortly before the game.

Yesenia can barely even drink one beer, she didn’t finish hers, and she was already drunkish.

Taking a picture while taking out a piece. That’s mother fucking talent (it’s not).

Yesenia insisted on taking my picture. That’s what King Creep looks like.

And my girlfriend knocked down the Jenga tower!

Pretty much everyone knocked the tower once. One of the towers was pretty epic.


 

From there… the consensus was to go to Nelson.

We were apparently going there to play Dominoes and listen to the jukebox. We never played dominoes.

Look! A super dark picture in the bar without a flash or anything. 6400 ISO at 80 shutter speed 1.8f.

They were making that face because they thought the flowers looked like funeral flowers.

They weren’t. They were celebrating her birthday. Mariachis came in. We had to turn down the volume on the jukebox.

Trumpet power!

No one in our table drank beer except me and my girlfriend. But she doesn’t like cheap beer much, so it was mostly me.


Young girl left the party. Yesenia left the party. That other dude left the party. We left the party.


And I was feeling trigger happy.

Took this picture of my girlfriend looking all angry (there is a worse one that I’m afraid to post).

I like that colorful streak from the OPEN sign.

She saw the angry pics and decided she wanted to smile, but I light painted way too much.

Overdoing it some more, but better.

And some more.

I like her :D


Walked by the dude that I posted before holding the menu. Walked by this guitarist. He wanted me to send him this picture. I could have if I had business cards…

Walked by this organillero (organ grinder). Homeless dude on the back has a snazzy jacket. Fucker dresses better than I do.

Stopped by the ATM because I had no cash, and we walked home.

We had a small stupid silly fight on the way back. We reconciled right after.

I started editing the pics immediately as if it was my job.


That was my day and night. To pretend that I worked.

I pretend this is work.

And it’s not.

That’s why I should quit.


Now. It’s just 8:22 am. I need breakfast. And do work.


 

 

 

 

 

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2 thoughts on “Guilt Trip Feels – Stop Making Sense! – Damian, The Guitarist Space Cowboy

  1. >If you are in a public space, you are fair game.

    Fuck everything else. If I’m on the street, I know people carry cellphones, cameras, whatever. I know anyone can take a picture at any moment.
    It’s not creepy, it’s life. Stop being such a high moral queen cat whatever.

    Great post.

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