Saturday, September 29, 2018

Not One Of Us #60


Persistent Pieces, by Matthew Lyons
The Quiet Song (poem), by Alexandra Seidel
Fruit in Its Season, by Rob Francis
Midas (poem), by Gwynne Garfinkle
Mutter, by Sara Beitia
The Midden Wall (poem), by Aurea Kochanowski
Sinking, Singing, by Gwynne Garfinkle
The River Delivers Its Commission (poem), by Sonya Taaffe
The Concrete Child, by Mat Joiner
Suck (poem), by Shannon Connor Winward
On Mercury (poem), by David C. Kopaska-Merkel
The Empty Chair, by Ruth Asch
Barkskin (poem), by S. Brackett Robertson
Our Lady of the Tarpaulin, by Steve Toase
Nostalgia/Νέκυια (poem), by Sonya Taaffe
Art: John Stanton

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Thursday, August 16, 2018

Akaso V50 Pro Action Camera

(Click on a photo for a larger version.)

Over the past twelve days, I’ve put my Akaso V50 Pro Action Camera through a lot, and I still have a few features left to explore. I’m impressed by the exceptional quality of both the video and the still frame photography this little camera offers. I’ve attached the camera to both side-door windows of our car and driven around shooting test video – the above photo, a single-frame grab from the video, demonstrates the quality. My personal specialty as a photographer, is B&W art, and I’m pleasantly surprised at the exceptional quality of the still-frame shots I’ve gotten so far – even the B&W filter is better than I had expected, both crisp, and nicely toned.

The Akaso comes with a nice assortment of attachments and accessories; it challenges the imagination to come up with unique places to take a camera. Particularly useful is the wristwatch-style remote control.

If you decide to purchase one, be sure to read through the manual and familiarize yourself with the features of this camera. The time-lapse capability is a lot of fun, if you have children or pets.

My only problem-the latch on the waterproof case broke when I tried to close it, a few days after the camera arrived. I left an email to customer service, seeking to replace the latch (maybe they’ll make the next latch out of aluminum?). A representative replied about an hour later, and sent me a new case, which has already arrived.

I researched action cams for two weeks before ordering, and now I’m convinced that you can’t beat this camera at anywhere near the price – or the customer service.

 The Akaso V50 Pro on Amazon

Update, July 22, 2020 – almost two years now, and I’m still blown away by this little camera. Last summer, I strapped it to my forehead and walked around the Indiana State Fair for hours, with it snapping a shot every 5 seconds – and easily strung them together into a high-quality time-lapse movie. Yesterday, I used a magnetic mount to fix it to the roof of my car and drove around my old neighborhood. I take it on professional shoots, as well. Movies, time-lapse, great still shots – I love this camera! 😊

Monday, April 2, 2018

Not One of Us Issue #59


The Trumpet Man, by Craig Rodgers
The Great Fire (poem), by Sonya Taaffe
Passing Through, by Tamzin Mitchell
When the Graveyard Burned (poem), by Neal Wilgus
The House Beneath (poem), by Alexandra Seidel
The Women Around Achilles (poem), by Sonya Taaffe
Unwritten Songs, by Tim Jeffreys
Coulrophobia (poem), by Lee Nash
Mr. Biscuit (poem), by Jessica Amanda Salmonson
The Final Four (Suicide Rock), by Stephen L. Antczak
Zero Dream (poem), by F. Brett Cox
A Last Meal, by Nicole Tanquary
Return to Womb (poem), by Stephanie M. Wytovich
A Haunting (poem), by Davian Aw
Art: John Stanton

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Thursday, January 25, 2018

Psychic Pop

Another tale from the spring when Flo and I were first dating.

Near dark, after having picked Flo up at her apartment, we were heading west on 38th Street, to one of our hangouts, the Pizza Inn, next door to where I worked. I was driving down the middle lane, when I saw a flashing red light and heard a siren—a motorcycle cop was racing up behind me. I flipped on my turn signal and eased into the right lane, as the cycle led a line of posh cars and a limo or two west to the interstate, probably headed for the airport. These sights are not uncommon here in the spring, as we get close to the Indianapolis 500.

As the last car in the caravan raced by, I checked to see if a chase cycle had taken up the rear, as is often the case, but I saw nothing behind me, so I flipped on my turn signal so that I could make my way over to the left lane, as my left turn was approaching. Just then, more flashing lights—the chase cycle blew past me as he tried to catch up to the caravan. As I remember, he gave me the evil eye as he passed, but I had not encroached on his lane, and he was far behind the motorcade, desperate to catch up.

I made my way over to the left lane, and my turn, and as I pulled onto High School Road, there was the chase cop, angrily waving me over to the side of the road.

He tore into me with a rage that would have been justified had I endangered him, but I had not. Before he could finish reading me the riot act, a familiar car pulled up from the opposite direction. My father approached the fellow cop, and flashed his own badge. Explanations ensued, the motorcycle cop’s head dropped, and I was spared his wrath.

I was both grateful and befuddled—how did my dad show up here, with such perfect timing? He was home, watching television, when he suddenly had a feeling that I was in danger. He grabbed his jacket, hopped in his car and drove directly to the spot where I was.

The timing, though… he had rolled out of his driveway well before the motorcycle cop had pulled me over, probably, even, before the cycle roared past me on 38th Street.

How he did it, I don’t know, but my father had a knack for that sort of thing, one that served him well both as a soldier and a police officer. Made for a pretty cool dad, as well



Sunday, January 21, 2018

Animal Day II


Dirt Upon My Skin, by Steve Toase
кот древнее и неприкосновенное животное (poem), by Sonya Taaffe
Just Wait (poem), by Neal Wilgus
Corey’s Hallowe’en, by Barbara Rosen
Laika (poem), by Holly Day
Bones, Bones, Bones, by Nicholas Stillman
The Prince of Denmark Plays Solitaire (poem), by Suzanna Hersey
Unmagical (poem), by J. J. Steinfeld
The Intersection of a Venn Diagram Where You’re Least Sober, by Willem Myra
Fatherless Daughter Syndrome (poem), by Susan L. Leary
Art: John Stanton (cover), Barbara Rosen

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