(See what I am saying?)

The Double Edged Spoon

I sat in the back of the ball room at the poinsettia pavilion. The chandelier hung low and cast a baroque silhouette on the projector screen at the front of the audience.

Marcia Prouse was giving a lecture on her experiences as a photo editor at the Orange County Register.

She showed photo feature spreads of holiday foods, wine and beer. She showed beautiful images of local events, community happenings, and thoughtful layouts of the new elementary school, the dog rescue shelter and the weekly hot-rod gathering in huntington beach.

Then she said something that struck a vein in my mental monologue.

she said, "The trend, at least for my newspaper is to cover more and more local news. Seldom are our readers interested in the bigger, international stories."

A brazilian accent almost immediately spoke up in the dark from under the chandelier. "Don't you think, with what is going on in the world today you have a responsibly to show your community the events that are taking place around the world?"

Marcia agreed. All too often, however, she said any image with any graphic, violent, or hard hitting content subjugates her and the editorial staff at the Register to a flood of negative letters, sometimes even cancelled subscriptions.

Two things struck the bell in my tower that seems to never quit vibrating for long:

1). My bible is not banged and my heart does not bleed, but i too often wonder about the deliberate state of uneducation that seems to be sought out. Today we can watch corn grow in iowa to watching the 100 most popular issues in the world evolve every hour of every day. Yet it is a sinking suspicion of mine that most of us fail to know, or want to know, what is relavent and going on in the world beyond our particular perspective, whether it be Iowa or Indonesia. We don't like to chew our food or our information any more than need be.

2.) If the public is not interested, does that mean it is not important? Who really is the ulimate editor of the news?

I considered the issue in context. Orange county is one most densely populated concentration of the wealth and happiness in the country. The average household makes $85,000 USD/yr [source], the standard of living borders on surreally perfect, at least from a passive perspective. It is a proven fact that the age of newspaper readers, regardless of the geography, is by and far an older audience. The internet and broadcast generally serves the youth market.

So why was the speaker expressing some frustration over the reducing scope of material covered in the newspaper? And does it matter if people don't know what is happening in the world if it isn't pleasing to know?

And more importantly, who decides what is news? the writers or the readers? In the biological world, there are causes and effects, chains of reaction- that connect the world and run deep and subtle. I sometimes have a hard time not applying that sense to the whole world in every regard.

Sitting in the back of rooms, like wide angle lenses, usually gives me too much to ponder in one sitting.

The bottom line, I reminded myself, as the lights came on in the poinsettia pavilion, is that the customer is always right. (I have been painfully reminded of that lately.) Especially if the customer makes $85,000. The world may not be fair, just, or easily understood. The world is not always happy. The important thing is; is that subscriber is. That way, the advertisers are. Give the people what they want and they will keep reading it. The more i thought about it, the less concerned i became. After all, happy news is good news too. And even photo editors have to eat.

and perferrably, with a spoon.

The Most Beautiful Road in America:

Jalama Road uncoils like 10 lb. test line for 14 miles through the farm land outside of Santa Barbara out to the sea.

It is hard to see, even as i was driving over it. The asphault along the edges of the road crumbled into the soft underbrush like road was painted on the ground with a can of spray paint. The sun shone like a spotlight through the broad and blocky crowns of the live oak trees. The cattle stood in their fields with their heads hung low into the tall grass. The road peels away the foilage like a snake shedding it's skin and ends in the windswept and barren beaches that drift into the pacific ocean. [See:Destintation Illustrations]

Spring No Break

After burning 55 gallon drums of midnight oil during the past month, me and my prime minister of technology, Sean Porter launched a new industrial strength website for a musician Mike Doughty and his growing entourage.

The sun is already hot through the window. School starts again next week. The taste of last night's teqilla is still in my mouth from the 5th of May celebrations we induldge in living so close to the border.

The blinking promotional buttons and vinyl banners hanging from bar balconies reminded me of spring break, which then makes me wonder what i ever thought i was breaking from. It certainly wasn't a reprieve from all the deadlines i didn't have, the bills i didn't have to pay, or the 2 days (6 hours) of classes a week i never studied for, and all the nightly debachery.

I was thinking about the encroaching time i spend on a computer (designing webites is not my day job), and missed the ability to take a break and celebrate when i had done nothing to take a break from nor any accomplishment to celebrate. I certainly wasn't a member of the Literary Club of Queretaro, nor did i ever sleep in the blood and the sand with Hidalgo fighting King Ferdinand VII. All i've done was click a mouse and trip a shutter.

Nonetheless, every generation's standard of living is exponentially raised from the previous, so perhaps someday there will be blinking buttons on low cut blouses, promotional drink specials and days of rest and relaxation for all of those "creatives" who tried to make stuff on computers back when computers we so big they called them laptops.