Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

As Good As It Got

Petty Signing B/W
Sure ... I'm standing on a chair in a gymnatorium, pretending to listen to some City Manager while my knees scream in agony, but I'm tellin' ya dude, I'm IN THE ZONE! It may look painful (it was) but this temporary perch above B-Block fodder was the first time I've been comfortable since I got back from vacation. Some people live their whole lives in search of their special purpose. I found mine early. I had a vision while still in my twenties; an ethereal being in flowing robes appeared in the corner of my very first viewfinder and with a glazed look in its eye whispered how I'd spend the rest of my weekdays. I ... would make ... local TV news!

Yeah, I was bummed at first, too - but after a few dozen fat lady dress shops spots and one hell of a hostage stand-off I embraced fresh destiny as only a 23 year old with no other offers can. Cops, Robbers, Crackheads and New Jack Stabbers; I shot 'em all. For the longest time every story I turnedbegan with someone in handcuffs. But a funny thing happened on the way to America's Most Wanted: I showed a penchant for the trenchant. At least that's how I described those epics of unimportance I churned out on my offtime. Let's face it, there are only so many ways you can frame crime-scene bystanders. Give me the underwater wedding, the inmate rodeo, the trash collector appreciation luncheon...

Yeah, the 'the trash collector appreciation luncheon' - but before you give me the same look my boss shot me this morning when I first pitched it, hear me out... We're talking seventy sanitation engineers parking their trucks in a church parking lot and gettin' their grub on. Free stomach juice from a grateful citizenry. Still unimpressed? Did I mention Richard "one of them deals" Petty would be there? Yeah, I know he lives all of twelve miles away, but when the King of NASCAR hobnobs with a room full of garbage men shouldn't at least one fancycam be in attendance? I think so, which is why I chased High Point's Smelliest on their morning run before rendezvousing with them again in a rec room near you....

The moist chunk of television that followed won't bring home any gold-plated eunuchs, but I'm guessing it will stick in the region's throat long after all that crime and grime has washed down the collective gullet. Now help me down, would ya? Dude's on auto-yammer and I can't feel my spleen...

(Photo by ELizabeth Lemon. Photo Editing by Gabbie Pittman)

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

Great story Stew. That last line of track has become your trademark.

Now if you will excuse me I have more blogs to read.

CORN

Brenda Bowers said...

You are one of my favorites, in fact one of only two I consider bloggers of exceptional talent. If the camera ever gets too heavy you certainly have another career as a writer waiting in the wings ready to soar. BB

turdpolisher said...

yellow?

really. . . yellow?

Lenslinger said...

More of a dirty khaki, really, if you must know!

FlutePrayer said...

Gabbie rocks the photo editing!