Yeah, in every long report about people in crazy outfits, there are a few entries that don’t involve people putting mohawks on their dogs. There are some photos that don’t involve much of any kind of craziness that is costume related.  Notice I said non-costume related.  This one is just your average “small town having a gathering, here we all are” kind of picture:

They also are not involved in Halloween, but with my love of all things patterned and repetitive, they made the cut:

Well, this is kind of scary.  If you find clowns scary:

I photographed this next one primary because the sunlight on the pickles made them look like snakes:

And finally a beauty shot that probably doesn’t belong in an entry as crazy as this one:

Get ready.  OK, get ready.  Are you ready?  OK, here goes:

Now I’ve taken a lot of bulldog photos, but this one has it all.  Teeth, mohawk, leather jacket.

And then there were these two:

Don’t they look like Halloween’s dogs?  I mean creepy, weird and cute at the same time.  And of course, there is the pug report:

And finally, a large number of huskies.  Or as my Halloween compatriots called them — Alaska dogs:

 

Nobody, but nobody gets into the spirit of this Halloween thing, like these friends of mine:

But today is actually Halloween in Boston and these people know how to do it.  I mean as I have mentioned here many a time, Bostonians dress up in costume for the marathon, a pillow fight and let’s face it, the opening of an envelope.

Now do not at all get me wrong.  I love this about them.  That means to me that the Bostonians are willing to poke fun at themselves and be generally not serious at all, which is great by me.  So, this was Halloween in Salem, a super fun event involving costumes (of course) consumption of various fatty substances, rides and trips to haunted houses.  That part was the funn-est.  I haven’t been to a haunted house since I was 9.  That time I was really afraid of being scared.  Now I was afraid of falling down and breaking my glasses.  Piece of advice  — don’t get old.

Ah, the photos.  There are photos:

 

 

 

 

 

 

Oh who am I kidding?  I live in Boston.  Like the rains ever leave.  Like the rains ever go anywhere.  I never used to carry an umbrella with me.  Now I carry it will me all the time.  My most prized possession: black Michael Kors faux croc rain boots.  A more appropriate title for this post would be “and then when the rains stopped for 12-24 hours.”

Well, there are photos.  Did you think it would be otherwise?:

 

As I may have mentioned up here before, I used to write.  For a living.  Note to the young graduates of humanities related disciplines — don’t write for a living.  Write in your spare time.  Write for yourself.  Because if you become a professional writer, you will sit around all day long waiting for a phone call from someone to tell you that corporation X is going to sell 20 fewer widgets than they had thought they were going to sell the year before.  But your editor is sure that they were going to sell 1000 more widgets and you have to write the story that way.  Anyway, journalism is dying.

But, I still have my Almost Famous fantasy, when I go on the road with a rock band.  I don’t write about them.  No, I take their photo.  I’m what’s called an insane fan of 1960’s and 1970’s music and I would have loved to photograph Jefferson Airplane, the Beatles, the Eagles, ABBA or even god forbid, the Bee Gees.  I’m sure these people could twist their bodies into some shapes worthy of me photographing them.

Well, on Saturday night I got to the live out this slight fantasy.  I photographed a band called The Lara Project, where the lead singer is a promising young man named Felix Lara and following him ably on the drums is Manuel Lara, the aforementioned young man’s brother.  I know these two fine young men from my professional capacity and am glad to see them doing well, pursuing their dreams.

Here we go with the photos:

Right in front, so I can get all the great facial expressions: