Chuck Klosterman might be the best essayist writing in the English language. Or he might not. He's certainly the best to come out of North Dakota. If you've read "Fargo, Rock City" or "Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs" you know what I'm talking about. He's primarily a rock journalist, but whether one is into death metal or not, his writing fascinates. I picked up his latest, IV, and as usual with his work, can't put it down. He takes one inside a little-understood culture and makes it seem almost reasonable and proper. At least reasonable. And all with the big-eyed wonder of a once-adoring fan. Buy his books and read them. Or at least one of them and see if you don't agree.

This is Myra, photographed in Kiel, Germany too long ago.

Now...back to my book.

When I was shooting in Boulder City weekend before last, I found that I'd put a roll of ASA160 film through the camera as though it were ASA1250. It was Ektachrome 160T, a film that doesn't like to be pushed. Anyway, I had the lab push +2 1/2, and ended up with nothing. I think I'd have needed a push of about +4 or more in retrospect, given that the film requires +2 processing for a +1 exposure. The good news is that I've got four rolls of properly exposed B&W film ready to develop (once the neighbor's roll-up door is fixed - a long, strange tale of cause and effect).

This is BonBon, during our second shoot. Unlike our first shoot where we got many images of a soft, beautiful girl, this shoot produced three pictures I liked. In one of them she looked very hard and angular. This one is relatively soft, but that's because the portion in the foreground is nice and soft. It was amazing how much she'd changed in a year. There are more pictures of her posted here from three or four of our photoshoots.

Naughty pictures. Gotta love 'em. Actually, no you don't. I'm not really sure what I think about them either. Pictures like this don't tell much of a story, yet they also aren't helpful to medical school students. As much as anything they are simply targets of opportunity. "Whoa...hold that..." as I move in for the picture.

There's no face, thus no person in the picture. Trust me, she is beautiful. But here all we have is body parts. Nice body parts, mind you. But still, only parts. Chicken parts one can eat, car parts one can use to repair a car, but girl parts abstracted from the person just sorta sit there making one wonder why there isn't more.

She didn't want this picture associated with who she is. This was OK to do anonymously, but not to make personal. She recognized that she wouldn't be in the picture either. Just her parts. They could be the parts of any of a million girls.

So maybe abstracting the parts lets the viewer decide which girl they belong to. That Mexican or Italian or Vietnamese girl down the street - the one I've seen dancing at the club. The picture makes that girl feel available, even if it's not really the same girl. Now I've seen her naughty bits and she doesn't even know - that gives me some sort of power over her. I can sort of smirk as we pass on the sidewalk, because I know what she looks like very naked. She probably wants me, but is too shy to say so.

I think that's what pornography does - it gives a feeling of power to the powerless. This could be pornography, except it's free. Porn is about money. Pay all you want, but I won't sell you more pictures of this girl. But you can go surf down a ways and see more for free.

Or maybe it is porn, even though it's free. Could be.

Under the last post, "Photo- graphie Works" asked about my relationship with models. I've talked a little about this before, but will try to talk a bit more this time.

I meet my models lots of ways. Some, maybe most, write me asking if I'll photograph them. Some are referred by other photographers. Some I message asking if they'd care to model for me. Some I've known so long I can't remember how we first met. However it works, the first thing that always comes up in conversation is the nature of my photography. It is nude, mostly erotic, and mostly looks authentic.

That's a filter. That's a big filter with small holes. Girls who would even consider modeling for me already have some special quality of openness to their own sexuality...or something like that. I really haven't pinned it down exactly or defined it well.

On my side, I've done this for a long time, am a fairly good guy with a good reputation, do pretty good work, and am open and honest. I don't think that honesty can be over-emphasized. I am certainly a dirty old man and absolutely enjoy hanging with beautiful naked women, but I try not to drool too much in the process.

The thing is that women are perceptive. Especially in this kind of relationship. I mean, if they're out looking for a life partner, they can certainly pick some losers, but photographers - old guys with cameras - they see right through us every time. It's best that what they see is exactly what we acknowledge is true.

Remember now, you're only hearing this from one side. Better descriptions of my relationships with models would include their sides as well. Fortunately, several have commented here on the blog and one has made a guest post, too. But of those who have not commented or posted, I really can't say how the relationship appeared from their sides.

Some models I meet, photograph, and never hear from again. Some check back with me once in awhile and some remain close friends. Ashley here recently wrote me to say she's getting married. It's nice to be on the list of people she would tell about that. It means I was important enough to her because of our photoshoots to share that with. I hope she made a good choice, because whoever he is is getting a fine woman. Not to mention an absolute freakin' knockout.

In a half-joking way I characterize myself as many models' "Uncle Don." Or "Dirty Uncle Don." I speak truth, they speak truth and we do get to know each other - it's not one-way. Some are curious about who I am and I tell them and answer questions. Some want to know about how men think, and I answer as best I can. I'm always curious about women, and many are very open about who they are. As you can see, it's often more than a simple photoshoot - sometimes it's more like a conversation, with pictures.

Now on to the tricky part. I get asked a lot if I have sex with my models. The answer: not many, not often, not recently. I am never the initiator. The visuals I see of myself (see the picture in the corner) with a gorgeous girl are simply not believable. Sometimes a model comes on to me and I completely miss it. Then I kick myself black-and-blue later, once I figure it out. Mostly the relationship stays in that "Uncle Don" area where it doesn't come up. And that's actually my comfort zone, too. At this point I'm not sure what I'd do if I recognized a come-on while shooting. First, it would be difficult to separate a come-on from the sexual behavior of the shoot, and second, it might be unethical to take advantage of a situation of sexual tension that I encouraged for the shoot. Anyway, when I'm shooting, I'm too busy to notice, should that rare occurance actually occur.

So PW, I don't know how much of this is helpful for you. I guess the one thing you should take away is that absolute honesty is not only the basis of a good marriage, but also the basis of the trust that's necessary in intimate photography, if it's to be truly intimate.

Ashley in a fairly formal graphical photograph made in my hotel room in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada almost three years ago.

Because the folks next door have to pass through my space to get to theirs (until their door is fixed in the next few days) I've been reminded again how much I value my solitude. When I am alone, I want to be alone, and not subject to random intrusions. It's part of being a good neighbor, and they do invite me to their outrageous parties, so I will put up with it this time.

That link on "solitude" refers you to my other blog - the one on retirement planning, the non-financial aspects. I'd talked too much about it here, so I broke it out as a separate topic. Feel free to ignore it as well. I guess the next topic I should consider breaking out is "books." I'm currently making a list of stinkers. (Love that archaic word. Someone used it in an otherwise bad novel and I've picked it up.)

Trouble is, if I move major topics out of here and only talk about naked chix and erotic photography, then I'll find I don't have all that much to say anymore.

This is Cynnamon inspecting a bound Angela. That was a hot photoshoot. Jeez, I can't believe they allowed me in the same room with them. Those girls will be coming down to San Diego in late July for more photography with me and others in the area. You can not believe how much fun I've had photographing and playing with these girls.

I don't think I've shown any tear sheets here yet. I'm not making photographs to sell nor specifically to show them in magazines and such, but every once in awhile a publication will ask to use my pictures, so every once in awhile I get tear sheets like this one from Photo magazine of Hong Kong. Usually they want my older color work, which, as much as I like it, I sort of resent because it's not what I'm doing right now. I think Peter Max probably felt the same way when he quit doing Yellow Submarines and changed his emphasis to more abstract and less flat paintings, and everyone ignored him.

This is a tear from one of Secret magazine's hardcover anthology books. I've probably posted both of these pictures on the blog somewhere, but these are scanned from the publications.

I like having my work featured. It's an ego boost and gets me some attention from my peers, and of course, from hot chix that want nothing more than to get naked and photographed.

And that's certainly part of what it's all about, init?

P.S. Please note that neither of these got my name the way I want it.

Not a big weekend so far. For reasons having to do with random folks walking through my place I haven't been able to spool the film from last weekend yet, but have high hopes for tonight - with any luck the neighbors will be off partying and I'll have reliable darkness. I don't like using a reloading tent, as it's cramped and hot and for sheet film in particular, makes it too easy to misload the tank.

What I have done is replace a battery lug on the little farm truck, top off the battery, install the receiver hitch and crank the front end a little closer to the stock spring pre-load. I've done a few other things, as being obsessive-compulsive and all, I'm obsessing on that truck. When I bought it I figured I'd just drive it and otherwise pay no attention to it, but now it's getting more attention than my three motorcycles and my photography put together. It's the current toy.

This is Paige, looking at the pictures in a Bruno Bisang book I picked up used before our photoshoot. Things seemed to just fall into place...

The big roll-up door next door is broken. To lock up they need to have the last guy do it from the inside, then come through my abode to get outside. I usually retire at 9PM. I have no idea when they're going to cease and desist tonight, so I can't go to bed. It seems to be one guy trying to impress some girl.

I think I'm going to impose a curfew after tonight. They'll have the door fixed sometime next week, I'm told. Bloody well hope so.

Fuck.

Trish, photographed in West Hollywood.

Should be a pretty good summer. Angela and Cynnamon are visiting next month and Erin is coming down the week after. I'm pretty sure I'll abandon the large format camera for the speed and flexibility of the medium format I've been using. I'll keep the big cameras though, as whenever I get rid of camera gear I end up regretting it.

The last shoot, with Pamela, started with the 4x5, but after six or so frames I found it was just too cumbersome and slow to use in a tiny hotel room. So I shot four rolls of 120 instead. I'll be getting to that film in the next couple of days and will have pictures to show sometime next week.

I'm not sure exactly what Angela was doing here during our first shoot, but she's pretty and happy and naked and what else could anyone want?

P.S. I changed the picture because Angela complained (in the nicest way) about the last one.

Well, the little white farm truck did pretty well on the trip to Boulder City. It's about 360 miles each way and the temperature reached 110F both days, though I don't think it was over 100F while I was driving. The grades to and from Las Vegas are legendary and take out cooling systems routinely. The Ranger did just fine, even kicked down into third gear for the grades and with the air conditioning full on.

The truck has never had a horn, nor has the cruise control worked. On the way home I figured those were fuses I simply hadn't found yet and when I got home I bought a fist-full and unfucked the inside fuse panel. Both now work.

Changed the oil to full synthetic yesterday and while I was underneath it pulling the plug I noticed that the front suspension is an adjustable torsion bar design. The front end has always been very low with the tires tilted in just a bit on top, so tonight I cranked up the torsion bars. The tires are still not quite parallel, but I wanted to do a test drive on the highway to make sure I wasn't screwing up the alignment before I went all the way. After work tomorrow I'll know, and if it's all still working, I'll turn the adjustment screws another full turn and see if that does it. It is nice to go over dips in the road without the lower A-arms hitting the rubber bumpers. I didn't even know it could be this good. (Of course, now I'm driving faster and the passenger seat is thumping around. Have to figure that out soon too as it's driving me nuts.)

The bed is way up in the air on the truck too. That is part of the design and it's four-wheel-drive, so there's use for some clearance back there. But Ford used a simple lift block set to do it, and once I've got the front end where I want it, I may remove or use shorter blocks to get the back down where it's easier to load a motorcycle and generally use. I don't want the back lower than the front, even when loaded, so it'll take some calculating.

OK, all this about my little truck and there's a picture of a beautiful girl playing with herself posted? What's the tie-in? Well, there isn't any. I like the picture, but wanted to talk about the truck. It's been awhile since I've wrenched on anything and it's fun.

Google has an interesting model that they use for ranking. I think it's interesting, but haven't figured it out yet. The ranking of this blog for search term "nudes" bounces all over the place. Last week it dropped from slot #5 to slot #25, then slowly worked its way to #14 and this morning it's back at #4. The only thing I can see is that it's been spidered and text from a more recent post is showing.

Perhaps there's some relationship there. As the spidered text gets stale it sinks until the spider visits again and sees new entries?

Things I do know matter are the number and popularity of sites linking in and the use of search terms in the text. Notice I've typed "nudes" only once. Well, twice now. I don't usually make a point of that as it's in the title already, but I really do like having you folks unfamiliar with this blog dropping in via Google.

Anyway...Shayna and Katie fooling around in my studio a few years ago.

Charles de Lint writes urban fairy tales. He does it well and is probably the best-known writer of the genre. I've read several of his books over the years, but the genre itself takes the right time and place to read it. Frankly, the best one of the sort I've read was by Emma Bull, who after one book, it seems, dropped out of sight as a novelist. (Let me know if I'm wrong about that.)

Anyway, I bought de Lint's "Widdershins" a few days back and am about to finish it and thought I'd tell you what fun it's been to read. The cast of characters involves about every permutation of fairy, native spirit and animal totem one can think of and even the Greek and Norse gods get mentioned, if only in passing - apparently so they wouldn't feel left out. It's a big fat book at a reasonable price that yields hours and hours of great entertainment.

This picture of the lovely Angela, slightly photoshopped, seemed appropriate for the post even though she herself isn't all that keen on the picture. I think it gets close to the core of her nature though.

Early night tonight so I can get an early start tomorrow on the drive to Boulder City. I'll be photographing a woman there who has an earthy form of natural beauty. Pale, symmetrical features, wise eyes, long hair and freckles. The work should be pretty sexual, even though I don't expect we'll be making nudes. She doesn't show anything really sexual or sexy on any of her online portfolios, so this will be different for her. I'll be using the view camera, so it's still a part of my own learning process, though I expect to take the 6x7 along as well.

I'll also be meeting a somewhat mysterious photographer that goes by "Wolf189." Does good work and apparently has a photojournalism background. Should be an interesting chat we'll have.

This is Ashley, photographed in Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada a few years back. She used to read this blog all the time. Ashley, if you're reading it now, I miss you.

"Back in the old days..." God, I used to hate it when people started a sentence with those words. Nevertheless...

Back in the old days we disassembled street skates and screwed the steel-wheeled trucks to plywood to make skateboards, then rode them down mile-long hills. No traction, no kneepads, just fear. Stepping out the back door to shoot a fox (and later sell the hide) didn't bother the neighbors. Building a raft and riding it down the river until it fell apart was a normal childhood thing. Later we rappeled off Interstate Waterway bridges onto passing boats using hardware-store rope and tackle, and once in awhile we rappeled out of helicopters (using mil-spec gear). Ocean kayaking was a solitary thing and one likely wouldn't see another wee boat during any given trip. Being dropped into the jungle with a knife and canteen to be picked up a week later meant getting behind on the office paperwork. Running from the base of a mountain to the top and back was a kick, especially if wearing combat boots. Puking at the end was normal. In 1983 I walked the first two hundred miles of the Pacific Crest Trail and didn't see another hiker. It wasn't completed yet, so some of that was on pavement.

Back in the old days there were no "Off Road Vehicle Parks," no "RV Parks," few postings of private property, and no rules against harmless behavior. Respect was natural, not prescribed. Personal risks could be taken as laws against risks to oneself didn't exist yet. No one expected a nanny government.

Now the population of everywhere is almost doubled and it's easier to step on someone's toes. Some people weren't raised to respect others so the government has stepped in to see that they are punished for causing harm. I guess that's how it has to work, but I don't much like it. I wouldn't mind finding a place where the old rules applied and kids played outside instead of on the computer. But there's no going home again. Ain't gonna happen.

Secrets come in many shapes. There are corporate secrets having to do with heat treatments of alloys, and guild secrets like the buzzwords used mostly to keep the uninitiated from doing their own real estate deals, and personal secrets like Billy-Bob loves Billie-Jean and performance secrets like steroids and nitrous oxide and most importantly what parts of our selves we do not share and sometimes try to hide from everyone else.

It is those internal secrets that novelists expose to the world to the relief of readers who finally realize that their own secrets are shared by others. And maybe their own secrets aren't all that awful anyway if everyone has them. Secrets of bad behavior - I pulled a Michael Jackson once a hundred years ago and hung my baby sister out the window by her feet. At least it was a first floor window. I stole this, I started that rumor, my athlete's foot can be worse than anyone ever wants to know. I've lied about how big my dick is. (I didn't want to scare her. Right.)

I think people all have about the same set of secrets. They probably vary from undiscovered murders at one end to toenail fungus at the other, but for the most part the secrets are pretty mundane and only show that we're human.

That's it - I lost my train of though. Happens too often these days. I'm getting old (shhh, don't tell anyone).

Candy here, sitting on the bed nude in her motel room in West Hollywood. Buck naked. (Edit: I'm pretty sure that was shot through a streaked mirror.)

I've got a theory that many of the coolest things are invisible. A long time back I read Class by Paul Fussell. One of the things in that book got me thinking: The highest classes of people with the oldest money drive old, ordinary cars. Same cars as the lower middle class, as a matter of fact. Status for them has nothing to do with cars, or stuff. Yesterday in the optician's office, while waiting to be fitted with my new prescription shades I picked up some smarmy upscale magazine and saw a bunch of ads for expensive watches.

I've had some expensive watches. Rolexes. When you wear a Rolex you will notice another Rolex wearer across a crowded airport. And you will think how nice it is that you're in that same exclusive club he's in. The downside is that maybe he's thinking the same thing about you, and you know you're not really in the club but are ambitious and just trying to be in the club until you can afford an even more exclusive watch. When I figured that out I quit wearing watches at all. It's a nice way to meet people, asking them the time.

(Aside: Why did the WASP go to the hospital? For the food. -Stolen from a NYT article yesterday.)

Class is invisible. It's based on breeding, culture, heritage, old money, influence and other more-or-less intangibles. It has nothing to do with Breitling watches or Maseratis. Sometimes the only visible differences between a member of the lower middle class and the upper class is in the quality of the haircut and the body fat index. Sometimes not even those.

I served in the Marines with a bunch of guys from old WASP families. In many cases it was a family tradition. Usually I didn't even know it unless something gave it away. Their summer homes on Cape Cod or the Baltic, for example. They might have driven Corvettes, but that was pretty much one of the standard choices for single Marine officers anyway. I remember spending a holiday with a friend at his family's place in Rye, NY. I had no idea...

It seems to me - and I could be completely wrong on this - that if one wants to appear to be of the American upper class, the thing to do is to show nothing flashy, take good care of one's teeth, and get good haircuts. If one wants to show how jealous and ambitious he is, then he should buy and display all the flash he can.

From the middle middle class - your correspondent...

(Claudia, scratching Robin's back.)

Looking at my online portfolio at one of the model sites I realized I have quite a bit of work with two girls together. I know I like shooting it, particularly if they forget I'm there with a camera, but I guess I didn't realize how much of that genre I actually had.

I've gotta do more of it.

This is Linda and a foot. Someone else's foot. I think I've posted one of her below with someone else's hand. Photogenic girl. This was for a fan request (her fan) for foot fetish. I don't think we really nailed it. That takes someone like Collin J. Rae who clearly gets it. Anyway, this was my take on that kink.

The lovely Angela, lounging around buck naked (i.e. nude) in my hotel room in St. John's, Newfoundland, Canada. We were shooting nudes with Cynnamon.

Why the italics? See the last post.

Next weekend I'm leaving early Saturday for a shoot in Boulder City, Nevada with a model I've wanted to work with for quite awhile. She won't do nudes, but as I'm still transitioning to the 4x5 view camera and mostly practicing my technique, that's not as important right now. It makes a window of opportunity for each of us.

I'll be driving my little white farm truck, which hasn't been driven farther than Los Angeles during my watch. It'll be interesting to see how it does in the desert and over the mountains. I'd like to have some confidence in it before hooking up a trailer for the retirement move in five years. (Yes, I always presume the current car is my last car, and I've never been right yet.)

So I did my laundry at the laundromat this morning. Right around the corner is an apostolic church. The kind that requires women to wear long skirts. Women being women, they accommodate that piece of dogma by wearing the tightest and sexiest long skirts they can afford, set off by spikey, strappy, fuck-me shoes. The skirt fabric stretched across sometimes very nice butts. They obey the letter of the law, while side-stepping the purpose. Life will find a way...

During the wash cycle I had a breakfast burrito at the place that makes the best ones in California. Or maybe they just pick the best 55-gallon drums of green salsa, as it's the salsa that does it. Potatoes, eggs, ham, wrapped in a fresh flour tortilla and greeeen tomatillo salsa! Wash it down with whole milk and it's a breakfast that stays with me all day long.

Here's one of the 4x5 portraits of Masha that I developed yesterday. Damn, but that camera is hard to use in low light on real live wiggly people! I have a shoot next weekend and I'm going to use the 4x5, but may take the Horseman VH-R along as a backup if I find need for a rollfilm back and a rangefinder. It would be slightly more flexible.

Edit: Dammit! I haven't said "nudes" or "nude" or "naked chix" in awhile and Google dropped me to the second page of the search for "nudes." Buck-naked nude nudes! Get 'em here! Here spider, spider, spider... It just occurred to me that Masha up there is fully clothed. That's a mistake I won't make again for awhile.

Finished developing Masha's 4x5 film and it's drying now. I'll probably show one tomorrow. In the mean time you'll have to settle for this photograph of Priscilla-Mae made in a condo in SoBe years ago.

I just finished Jonathan Lethem's "You Don't Love Me Yet," a wonderful book. I haven't been a huge fan of his, but this one worked, what with the band, the genius songwriter, the hot babe protagonist, the charismatic outside jingle-writer, the drummer, the kangaroo and all. If you like to read, buy and read it.

By the way, I have no idea if anyone that reads this blog reads any of these books. I don't think I've ever gotten a comment about books specifically. I'd appreciate it if anyone who reads my critiques and enjoys them would let me know. Uh...thanks.

Well, back to the film.

Has Vanity Fair magazine always been this good? I fond a copy on an airplane - the "noir" issue - and loved it. Then bought the copy with Bruce Willis on the cover. This morning Bono was talking about his editorial work on the new Africa issue. I guess my radar has been pointed in another direction. Good magazine.

Loaded Masha's 4x5 film in the tank last night so I'll develop sometime this weekend. Also loaded some film holders so I can use the camera this weekend if the spirit moves me. Next weekend I do have a shoot in Boulder City, Nevada and will use the large format and maybe take the 6x7 along as a backup. Or maybe I'll take the Horseman with rollfilm backs along. Dunno yet.

It's Friday. About time, I say.

This is Uma doing herself with a Hitachi Magic Wand. I gave that to her for being a good girl. She was really good.

Just a little too much wine last night. My walk around the airport over lunch was done in the best time this year and I got my state tax refund check in the mail and I think I finally arranged to photograph a beautiful woman I've talked to for a couple of years and I got a new Jonathan Lethem novel, so I had a glass of an Australian shiraz. And another. Etc.

Sure felt good at the time, but I'm a little blurry right now.

I seldom do series pictures. They feel too much like commercial porn. But there are exceptions. I've done a few where I've tied up a girl then peeled her clothes off. It seemed like a sexy concept and is sorta fun to do.

Mellissa here is another girl that wanted to do bondage pictures for the first time and ended up referred to me by another shooter. In this set I remember having trouble getting her pants unbuttoned so I could pull them down. It was a fun sort of trouble though. You gotta have fun where you can as there's too little of it in the world and there's no such thing as too much fun.

Last night I fell asleep with deep and profound things to say here this morning. Naturally I've forgotten everything. They probably weren't all that deep and profound anyway. Profundity (don't you love that word?) is more likely to result from quick asides or too much coffee than long involved thought processes anyway.

I'm sorta reading Terry Pratchett's Pyramids, and it includes a couple of characters that spew profundity all over the place. One is "Xeno" with his own paradoxes, and another is the worlds best mathematician, a camel called "You Bastard," whose thoughts, as camels can't talk, nicely clarify the complete uselessness of understanding without communication. Parabolic trajectories of camel spit are quickly calculated by the world's best mathematician, but all anyone else ever knows of this is the resultant gob. "Xeno's" contributions are in the way of pointing out that theories, no matter how well thought out, are pretty useless if reality clearly contradicts them. Pratchett's a fine writer, but it takes a special time and place for me to read his silly books.

The best thing about his books are that if you carry one through an airport, there will invariably be a hot babe that wants to talk to you about the book. Hot babes adore Terry Pratchett.

This is Emalie, a hot babe, diddling herself in my hotel room in Boulder City, Nevada awhile back. Far too long ago. She emails every year saying she wants to shoot again, my pavlovian drooling begins and I hastily return the email asking just when and where, and she doesn't respond to my response. I think she's fucking with me in the baddest sense of the word.

Do you like the girl in the picture? Do some pictures compel you to like the subject, while others make you actively dislike the person or maybe just leave you cold?

I think the photographs tell a lot about the photographer. I think they can show whether the photographer really likes his subjects or is simply trying to impress the viewer or maybe even dislikes people in general. The May/June View Camera magazine has examples of two portrait photographers. One makes 8x20 view camera portraits of people I'd like to meet. The other makes portraits of people I'd walk across the street to avoid. Which one really likes people? Seems obvious to me.

I really don't know if this picture makes anyone really like who Ashley is. I like the photograph as it's homey and friendly. It was made between takes when she pulled on her sweatpants and was rummaging around for shoes or something. Some folks have told me the picture reminds them of old girlfriends they miss. That's sort of what it does for me too.

The New York Times just published a list of books that writers are reading this summer. I think writers read for the same reasons other people do and in fact started writing because they enjoyed reading. Anyway I've printed the list out and will be stocking up on yet more books in the near future. Reading is one of my greatest pleasures.

I can see myself retired, appearing daily at a local cafe and settling into a comfortable chair with good light, paying the chair's rent by buying coffee once in awhile, and spending every day there with my short stack of current reading. It would have to be the sort of place that accepts eccentrics, which means it will not be a chain retail coffee store. And it will have to have been designed by someone who didn't pick the furniture to encourage quick customer turn-around.

I know this conflicts completely with the Airstream Trailer version of retirement that was yesterday's daydream, but I don't have to actually pick one thing yet. Or ever.

These girls are, of course, Cynn (on top) and Angela. A digital snapshot with Cynn's camera. In Newfoundland last March.

My daughter finished the San Diego Rock and Roll Marathon about 45 minutes faster than she'd predicted. The Ex and I split traffic all over, jumping medians and whatever to position ourselves in five places along the route (50 miles on the motorcycle to cover a 23.1 mile race). I took pictures (which you won't see here - her privacy) and we yelled and encouraged her just by being there. From Mile 22 on was pretty tough on her, but she's a tough young woman. She raised about $5K for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, which raised about $21 million in this event of $120 million so far this year. I'm proud of her.

Anyway, this isn't her. This is a law student named Aja that I photographed years ago. I'd posted a different picture of her once before and told about how her mother and grandmother and my rep and her daughter were all in a small motel room for this particular shoot.

San Diego's downtown is actually starting to feel urban. The condos have brought in some affluent younger people as well as some who appear to be retired and the places that used to be relegated to the homeless population (which BTW is being herded onto a couple of streets to the east of downtown) are going upscale fast. The kinds of couples one never used to see - old guy, young woman, vice versa, multi-racial - are out walking their large poopy dogs early in the morning and stopping by my favorite cafes for their caffeine jolts. Boutiques are all over now and there are better fast food shops opening that sell döner and falafel and stuff. As much as I complain about the damned condos killing downtown, they've brought in some interesting folks.

Tomorrow my daughter will run her first marathon. I'm guessing her last as well. I'll be on the street downtown somewhere to cheer her on if I can pick her out of the huge crowd. I'd best go find out the route beforehand.

This is Jackie photographed in Minneapolis last summer. I was standing on a chair.

Seems it's been awhile since I showed anything explicit, so here's you go. I can't remember who she is, but it was done awhile back in the studio. Wait! I do remember who she is, but as she doesn't do nudes, I can't tell you.

That's an interesting dichotomy - the person who is shy on the outside, but really wants to be bold. Or vice versa. More and more I believe that women (or girls) really want people to look at and appreciate them. Maybe it's just the women I hang around with that are that way. Most of them have already chosen to model, so I suppose that filters out those who do not want to get naked and be looked at. I guess it's possible I only know a small minority of exhibitionists, while the rest of the population really are not. Still and all, the whole dynamic of the nude female model and the male artist is covered with a patina of semi-respectability.

I asked her to play with herself and she said she didn't know how because she never had. I suspect she was lying, but she asked me to show her how and I took her hand and as best I could, gave her some idea of what it was about. If she was lying, that was a direct come-on to me. That seems pretty unlikely, but it also seems unlikely she'd never masturbated before. It remains a puzzle and if I ever cross paths with her again I'll have to ask what that was all about. If it was a come-on, I'm gonna kick myself all the way to Yuma for not recognizing it.

Maybe I'm the one that's naive.

Well, that tall skinny fashion model I mentioned a post or two back cancelled. That's not a surprise - the surprise was that she would want to model for me at all. Fashion is all about shiny exteriors of aloof and cosmopolitan women, and my work is more personal and sexual and about the human being inside. Well, I like to think it is, anyway. Anyway, that gives me a free weekend, and those are always appreciated these days.

Here in SoCal the weather is, on average, wonderful. This morning it was close to the better end of the distribution. The motorcycle engine was at its peak, crackling along, hitting Middle C around 108mph. OK, I think I was around B-flat below Middle C, as the Z1000 gets really uncomfortable above 80mph or so - one of the reasons I bought it in the first place. It keeps me from accumulating too many speeding tickets. It's close to time for a new chain and sprocket, as the original have lasted now for over 8000 miles and the chain is losing flexibility. A friend says that a bad chain can lose me up to four horsepower, and I need every one of those 132 ponies to get me to work, you know.

This is Ava photographed in West Hollywood a few years ago.