She Came To Me Like In A Dream…

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February 2008

Made this image in an Irish bar not far from Grand Central Terminal in New York.

I had these “femme fatale” images to shoot of this actress and thought this could be a neat location for that.

Middle of the afternoon, no one else in the joint.

I talked to the older Irish bartender working behind the slab.

“Sure,” he said. “You can have the run of the place.”

Heh. Sometimes all you have to do is ask.

Think this was with my Canon 20D and my 50mm lens.

The martini was real. She had already eaten the three olives, which was fine at the time but bothered me later on. I wish they were still in the glass. My PS chops weren’t good enough to put them back in.

(c)Mark Krajnak | JerseyStyle Photography | 2017

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Bo Nose

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Or should I say Bo’s nose?

No, not related to this cultural tagpoint.

But today IS National Puppy Day. And it’s hard to celebrate such day without an actual puppy.

Luckily, we’re good on that count!

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As of last Friday, we’re the proud owners of a 7 week old puppy. He’s part Poodle, part Wheaten Terrier and part Sheepdog.

And he goes by the name Bojangles Hawthorne.

It’s a long story where Bojangles comes from, but it’s not the chicken restaurant found in the South.

Could also stand for BoBo or Bocephus, too, I guess. But, formally, it’s Bojangles.

Hawthorne just popped into my head. It seems to fit.

We call him Bo for short.

Just Bo. Not this Bo. Or this Bo. Or even this Bo.

Pitch black, fuzzy, sharp little teeth, big paws.

After years of our household being  on autopilot (for the most part), it’s like having a baby again.

Teaching. Training. Housebreaking.

Getting our older dog, Roxie, to appreciate and understand him.

It’s been awhile since we’ve had a puppy in the house (over 10 years) but it’s all coming back to us.

And now that the weather is getting nicer, hopefully we’ll be able to spend a lot of time outside with him. He seems, so far, to like being outside.

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I promise not to inundate you with too many puppy photos though.

Because Bo knows you wouldn’t appreciate that.

© Mark V. Krajnak | JerseyStyle Photography | All Rights Reserved 2017

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World Water Day 2017

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Today, March 22, is recognized as World Water Day.

We open a tap and drink it. We bath and shower in it.

We splash in the Asbury Park surf, like Matt, above.

Many of us take it for granted.

A few years ago though, while in India, I had a different experience with water, and what it means to the people there.

I wrote a post about it. Please read it here in the archives.

© Mark V. Krajnak | JerseyStyle Photography | All Rights Reserved 2017

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RIP Jimmy Breslin

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Not a post so much about photography about about influences…

Back when I was in high school, I was looking for what I wanted to do. Looking back now, as I approach 47, I wonder what my rush was.

At the time, though, I was reading a lot (still do) and talking about writing with friends of mine. We decided that we wanted to be newspaper journalists.

This was because we were reading columnists like Steve Lopez, Jimmy Breslin and Jayson Stark and Bill Conlin.  These were our heroes, the people we tried to emulate when doing those high school term papers.

We’d go to the deli near school and by the New York Post and New York Daily News and Philadelphia Daily News and Philly Inquirer. This was our homework, done during the day when we probably should have been listening in History class.

But by reading these current-day masters, it worked. We became better writers. The teachers knew it. Research papers were pretty much automatic A’s for us. This continued into college. There was no internet then, so, since we went to different schools, we’d write these long letters to each other on yellow legal pads. Pages and pages. Long hand.

A third buddy joined us and these guys blew my writing out of the water. It was all I could do to keep up with their interestingness and humor. But I learned from reading their work, and through it all, we all still wanted to be newspaper men.

And we still read Lopez, Breslin, Stark and Conlin.

In high school, I read Jimmy Breslin’s Table Money. It was on a sheet of potential books the teacher gave us to stretch our thinking and reading. I remember I also picked, and read, Norman Mailer’s Tough Guys Don’t Dance. Mailer was another reporter cum writer.

Anyway, I know I read Table Money, but I don’t remember much of it now. But over the weekend, Jimmy Breslin passed away. And when I read Dan Barry’s obit in the NY Times, I’ve decided I need to get back to Breslin. Think I’m going to start with The Good Rat.

(Dan Barry, by the way, is fantastic. He’s a columnist I still seek out.)

Anyway, reading Jimmy’s obit got me thinking back. I’m not going to be a newspaperman. I tried it, for a while. Gathered a good number of bylines back in the late ’80s and early ’90s. It’s a special breed, though, that was good at that. One of those buddies I mentioned spent almost 20 years a newspaper in South Jersey. He had it. The ink was in his blood.

But even though I didn’t go that route, the storytelling gene is still in me.Now I’m trying to tell stories with my camera. I still appreciate, though, those folks that can get to the heart of the matter, and tell a great story in a few paragraphs and column inches.

If you’re not too familiar with Jimmy’s writing, start with this column about the man who dug JFK’s grave.

BTW…the photo that opens this post is of my vintage Royal typewriter that I once bought for a song…and a portrait.

I may not be the newspaper writer I thought I would be..but I still dig the old hardware.

© Mark V. Krajnak | JerseyStyle Photography | All Rights Reserved 2017

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