Well, it's only fitting that after yesterday's diatribe on photographic theory I'd find myself in a place with the worst light on the planet: a bowling alley. Caves are bubbling over with ambiance in comparison.
It occurs to me that in movies that feature scenes set in bowling alleys, the lighting is always phenomenal and nothing like the flat, murky, green-tinted, fluorescent mess that is the reality. The "magic" of Hollywood. There was no way to capture good light because I didn't have a flash and there was no good, organic light to be had. I did the best I could - which wasn't a whole lot. I like to think that if I ever found myself as the operator of a bowling alley, the first order of business would be to rip out the damn fluorescent fixtures and replace them with nice incandescent ones.
Anyways, as expected, I took the Men's High Series and High Handicap positions last week, netting me an entire American Dollar for my trouble. Today, I bowled terribly. I blame it on adjusting to a heavier ball. As next week I'll be using an even heavier ball than this week, I imagine that I'll not have to endure any scoldings from Paul for two weeks at least. But once I get that heavy ball rolling right, the codgers had better watch it!!!
My favorite camera, lens, a nice lamb - all for naught because of poor lighting. That's how the pins fall sometimes. Alas.
P.s. - I stole that pencil. I needed it.
I'm going to be carrying these two until Monday, L'Ariete and my Hartshead Barlow
Have a good day Guardians
