• Rob Spectre
  • 16
  • Sep
  • 08
This entry is part 1 of 3 in the series Seven Seconds
  1. Her smile beamed glee as she signed the divorce papers.
    I always thought the woman would be sad. Or at least, would wait until she got home.
  2. “I am a 20 year old with 30 years of experience.”
    “Wait, you’re not 30 years old.”
    “No,” he replied flatly. “I am 20 years old. With 30 years experience.”
  3. Is she looking at me? She’s looking at me. That chickā€¦ is a. Is he looking at me?
  4. “No, he wasn’t being an ass. I really do think your dress came from a shower curtain.”
  5. She danced like ballerinas would dance, if they had no grace. And were holding a laptop. And were singing along to Hanson.
  6. Who scrawls onto the sidewalk “The Future History of San Francisco?” What arrogance does that take?
  7. She had black and bleached dreadlocks, a fishnet aqua overshirt, a stone deadly body, and a murderous scowl in response to my sheepish smile. It was the first authentic facial expression I had seen in weeks.
  • Rob Spectre
  • 12
  • Oct
  • 08
This entry is part 2 of 3 in the series Seven Seconds
  1. “I accept that,” she pronounced proudly as she fled the ATM.
    She had left her account balance on the screen. It displayed in a final font: $0.00.
  2. Pure murder must have been my scowl as the pair did a tarot card reading right in the coffee shop, on the couch next to me no less.
    “Try to ignore the negative energy around you,” she said, turning over the third card.
  3. Driving with the top down on his Z-series convertible, I must have looked incredulously at the white boy in the shitkicker straw hat when he looked at me like I was the douchebag.
  4. “Driver? Can you tell the guy next to me to move his damn bag because people cannot walk through the aisle? Thank you driver.”
  5. “Would you knock that shit off?” I commanded, telling the alpha in the pair of hippies to stop taking pipe hits in the seat behind me on the train.
    From the terror in his eyes, I could tell I just turned the paranoia dial on his high to eleven. I hoped as I hopped off the train he would suffer that cold sweat the rest of the night.
  6. The old lady stood at the top of the steps leading out of the station in between transport and Lovefest. Looking me dead in the eye with wide, loving grandma eyes she pushed a handful towards me and said, “Condoms?”
    I replied dryly, “That’s awfully optimistic, ma’am.”
  7. The scorching hot blondes were in the bar a full fifteen minutes before they realized I wasn’t the bouncer, but I had suckered them into checking their IDs anyway.
    “It wasn’t because you looked young,” I called out to them as they marched indignantly out.
  • Daniel Austin
  • 02
  • Nov
  • 08
This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series Seven Seconds

It was such a simple scenario; the wrong place at the wrong time. Walking through the rain at 1:00 am on Halloween I had unknowingly led us astray.

Chris Bennett was supposed to be there at the bar, he said he’d meet us out front. Lily and Chelsea were already there waiting somewhat impatiently, wondering what exactly had gone wrong. I got a drink for Donna and continued looking at a rather empty bar, not at all what I had expected to find at The Shamrock, especially after the sounds that came from the phone last time I’d talked to Chris.

We decided to smuggle our drinks out of the bar. Lily gave up without attempt, I failed and returned my drink to the bar and Chelsea was the victor as we walked back out into the rain, sharing her cocktail on our way to the muni station.

Upon arrival at the station I noticed some amazing lighting, readied my camera and prepared to photograph costumed women who were my company for the evening. Before I could get a single shot out Lily told me to turn around.

I don’t recall exactly how it happened, but looking back I realize that I began to witness a fight between two men in the street and the driver of a car. There was a second car involved and I wasn’t immediately sure how everybody in this scenario was related, but one man was certainly being accosted by two others. Instinctually I immediately began photographing the event, forgetting my other senses and paying no attention to things non-visual.

Halloween Brawl

I remember one thing other than the sights, and that was the sound of the bottle breaking.

17 seconds later there was nothing left worth photographing so I gave my camera to Lily and relinquished photographer for man in charge.

When I reached out for him to see if he was OK I felt shards of glass on his shoulder. He was walking, he was able to speak somewhat coherently so I checked other people who may have been attacked while I was paying attention to other folks. “I’m fine, it was my brother who was attacked.” Turning from the man who said that I found a girl who was shaken, irritated, and told me she was OK before proceeding back to the passenger seat of the car. I approached the driver side windows and once again felt the victims head, feeling only glass and no blood. He was already in the driver’s seat, he seemed coherent, and I honestly had no clue how to handle the situation beyond photography and adjudication.

Sitting down and trying to take stock of the situation, I looked up and saw the Mucky Duck. Chris Bennett was not at the Shamrock, he was at the Mucky Duck, and he was probably wondering where the hell we were. I crossed the glass on the train tracks in the road and headed towards the Mucky Duck. Chris was there, jolly with company and happy to see us. This was now the right place at the right time.