Unlucky in love
Walking one afternoon, not that uncommon, I passed close to the renowned Institute of Texan Cultures. Two local icons, I realized were right behind me. While I prefer not to favor any kind of staging for the ubiquitous side-project’s collection, “Alamo City: 500 Pixels at a time,” while I prefer not to do anything more than point and click, every once in a while, it seems like I should use a little help.
“Failure is an option,” used to be an unwritten guideline, as even failures show beauty in their own, inimitable way.
This is just failure. Not bad, just didn’t turn out near as well as I would’ve liked. Failure is an option, as not every image turns out well. Not all good. It’s all part of constant learning. Then, too, there are the bookmarks, images that triggered a train-wreck of a thought process, and sometimes those aren’t winners, either, but useful as a way to remind me of strident pieces of symbolism, gets massaged into a horoscope.
Failure is an option. Not every picture is good, but it is here. This one was so much fun, I just figured, peering at the single image on the phone’s screen while I was wearing polarized aviator sunglasses, a red Hibiscus bloom with the Tower of the Americas as a backdrop. Sure.
Success and failure. Or, as I’ve referred to it in the past?
“The limits of the hardware.”
“Stay away from the brown acid,” think that’s already in the fineprint someplace. Should be. Predates me, though — we never had “brown acid.”
