After looking at the photo, Chris says, “My arms are hairy.”

For the first time in five or six years, I finally met James Huff in person at WordCamp LA. I’ve known him for about seven years. In addition to being a talented musician and all-around helpful guy, he’s a Happiness Engineer with Automattic.

Since his Gravatar is from his wedding three years ago, I demanded politely asked for a portrait.

Thanks for the good times, James!

Edit: Thanks, Amy, for suggesting that I reword my post. To clarify, this was my first time meeting James.

The first day I went into Downtown Philadelphia, I waited at the airport for the SEPTA train to Market East Station.

An older man walked up the steps, onto the platform, and asked if this train would be going into town. I assured him it would, but not before warning him that I wasn’t a local.

Apparently, he’s lived here most of his life, but hasn’t used the public transportation system.

For the next hour, we chatted Brian told me his life story.

At six years old, Brian and his parents got into a huge car accident. His mother was 33. His father, Bernie, was a captain in the Philadelphia Police Department.

Sadly, his mother lost both of her legs from that accident. He remembered the firefighters trying to pull him out and being confused, unable to compute that his mother’s legs were being amputated within the wreckage.

Both parents recently died at 90 years old.

Brian’s eyes welled up with tears. There was so much pain. There wasn’t anything I could say. He took a breath, apologized, and continued.

Brian theorized that he was probably bipolar after that accident.

For forty years, he was an alcoholic until a horrific vision snapped him out of it. Two feathers are in his wallet as a reminder, and he’s been clean for 18 months.

During Brian’s alcoholism, he had a three-year relationship with a girlfriend, then married her for six years. They had a son and grandson. Sadly, they got divorced because “she wanted to stop partying and he didn’t.” (He hasn’t seen his son or grandson in years. Sad.)

Brian is good with numbers, so he was an electrician for a long time. Now, at 57 years old, he’s trying to get his commercial driver license (CDL) in Philadelphia to be a trucker.

Brian currently lives in Las Vegas, but plans to move to San Diego, CA. He still has two sisters, but I can’t recall if he mentioned where they live.

As Brian spoke, he was calm, peaceful, and positive on life. I was overwhelmed with emotion.

Compared to him, I can’t complain. I was heading on an epic journey around Philadelphia, with my camera, lenses, and Twitter to keep me company.

As quick as the conversation started, he arrived at his station, shook my hand, smiled, and said goodbye.

Good luck, Brian.

Note: If you’re wondering, I took his photo before we boarded the train. I wasn’t sure if he’d keep talking to me, but he did.

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Laughing it up with Kangster on a photowalk. He’s a great friend…and an awesome photographer, too!

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While waiting for the Metro Gold Line at Union Station, Dave saw my camera in hand and approached me, asking if I wanted to take his photo.

Since I can describe the conversation like a moth in flight, bullet points might make more sense.

• He explained that he wasn’t mentally right. He was talkative and easy going.
• “I know the new Incredible Hulk movie. He has a special power,” which he then demonstrated as if he were generating a fireball or something.
• He talked about his brother who fought in Vietnam, but wasn’t receiving benefits. Somehow, that was a segue into him not getting SSI.
• “You know the Spiderman song?” *singing the Spiderman theme song* “I’m chicken man. Chicken man, chicken man…”
• “A girl I know on the subway. She sees me, says, ‘Hey chicken man!’ I give her a hug and kiss.”
• Lastly, he holds up a circular opaque object. Apparently, it’s a valuable ashtray. I tell him he should try to sell it, but he’d never part with such a priceless object.

When the train finally arrived, I wished him well…and sat half a car away[1. I just wanted to veg. Nothing against Dave!]. I’m pretty sure he struck up a random conversation with someone else.

If you ever meet Dave around LA, talk to him for a bit. (Or, listen to him talk.) It won’t hurt!

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Brian Auer is awesome.

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I’m taking $1 portraits as long as money permits. (See Thomas Hawk with his $2 portrait project and Justin Korn with his $1 portrait project.)

What’s the premise? I’ll offer $1 to anyone who asks me for money in exchange for their portrait. I’m a shy person, but I’ll do my best to find out a little about the person. You never know if it’ll make someone’s day for at least talking to them a little bit.

While I was on the escalator at Wilshire/Normandie, this man asked me if I had a dollar.

“What do you need it for?”

“I’m need to get a ticket for the bus, man.”

I awkwardly told him about my $1 portrait project. At first, he hesitated. I reassured him that it was only a photography project, allowing me to interact with people.

I noticed his eyes were slightly yellow. Jaundice? Sad.

At the top of the escalator, he finally agreed. He walked to a spot away from foot traffic, then I snapped his portrait.

“Where you off to now?”

“I gotta get some food, man. I’m hungry,” walking in the direction of the bus stop.

“Alright, take care.”

I never did get his name.

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I’m taking $1 portraits as long as money permits. (See Thomas Hawk with his $2 portrait project and Justin Korn with his $1 portrait project.)

What’s the premise? I’ll offer $1 to anyone who asks me for money in exchange for their portrait. I’m a shy person, but I’ll do my best to find out a little about the person. You never know if it’ll make someone’s day for at least talking to them a little bit.

—–

Rick stopped “briefly” talk to me while I was waiting outside Regent China Inn. He told me that someone took his photo a few days ago, even though he didn’t give him permission.

Trying to decipher a myriad of his tangents (over the course of 10 minutes), I learned that he was from Culver City.

• A Metro bus driver refused to honor a monthly pass he just purchased. (No idea how long ago that way.)
• He had $2,000 while in Glendale. Down the street was a Shakey’s, but he told some guy that he wanted to go to the one closer to home.
• Save that card from Surf City because you can get a free smoothie.

Rick was on his way to a facility down the street to see if they were giving out food.

He never did ask me for money, but I offered him a couple bucks anyway because he seemed pretty nice. Other than that, I didn’t really get a chance to get a sentence in. He was a talker.

Before we parted ways, I asked him if I could take his photo. He positioned himself in a better light – and away from the front of Phillipe’s – but the bill of his hat blocked most of it. Oh well.

Sidenote: My cousin, Cheryl, is a psychology major. She suggested that he could have a mild case of schizophrenia.

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Need a lens hood for your inexpensive 50mm f/1.8? Try using the paper sleeve from your cup of coffee or espresso!

For the Canon lens, it’s barely large enough to sit on the rotating part of the lens. You’d need to unravel it so its diameter is wide enough, then tape it.

If you don’t mind looking slightly foolish, it’s better than nothing!

Credit goes to Silas Perez for the idea and photo of me — we were hanging out at Starbucks the other day.

While on the way to work using the Metro Gold Line, a several young girls and their teachers boarded the train. It must’ve been a field trip. The only open seats were around one man, all alone. He looked miserable. I waited until he had a solemn face, then snapped a photo.

The man sitting next to me chuckled at the girls and their conversations. He laughed after I took the photo.

“He looks so miserable, I couldn’t help myself,” I whispered, snickering quietly.

We talked between Lincoln/Cypress station and Union Station. He asked me if photography was my career (not yet). His roommate, Travis Tanner, is a photographer.

“Where is your accent from?”

“Columbia Colombia, South America,” he told me. “What about you?”

“I’m from here.” I knew he meant my ethnicity.

“Where are you parents from?”

“They’re from the Philippines, but I was born and raised here.”

Edgar was between jobs. He’s been working in television production for the past ten years, but was let go. They were all with Spanish language television channels — I forget which ones specifically. He said he was going to apply for jobs with other networks, like CBS and NBC.

Before the train stopped at Union Station, I asked him if I could take his portrait. Since we were inches away, I used my 18-55mm lens.

Good luck finding your next job, Edgar.

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