Monday, November 21, 2011

Another photo from the "Gods" shoot. Click to enlarge. 


Sunday, November 20, 2011

Because He's Fabulous

The second shoot, done with the lovely Aleksandr Petrov. "Because I'm Fabulous"

Note: I have a ton more to post from both these shoots, I just haven't had time to edit yet.

More after the jump!

New Camera!

Hello, hello! I have a lovely new Fujifilm Finepix s400 14MP Digital camera, courtesy of my amazing boyfriend (Early Christmas gift!). So I wasted no time in doing up myself and two of my model friends and shooting the crap out of them. This first shoot is titled "The Gods Aren't Angry, They're Bored." All photos Copyright Cara Brennan 2011. Ask for permission to post! But feel free to shamelessly promote me. The second model is the amazing and ethereal Amanda Elizabeth Sawyer.

More after the jump!

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Inspired by football? Why, yes!

Wow, been a while! I return with a little piece inspired by my youngest brother's kickass football win against their big rival. They are now UNDEFEATED district champs, and just won their first play-off game.  I wasn't in the mood to write, but I had not written in weeks and was very frustrated with myself. So I literally sat down, wrote "write something write anything," and I guess some little brain gremlin was all like "OKAY FINE," and then wrote this. So maybe I should do that exercise more often.

The Sun Never Sets On Fridays

"Stadium lights shine in his eyes like the most sincere promise he's ever heard. His sweat glimmers as it trickles down his face, soaking him and giving him the appearance of some brave, salt-covered sailor, caught in a typhoon but emerging alive. He smells, but he doesn't care. His body has begun to remind him that it needs rest, but he does not listen. He will have time for cleaning and resting later. He will never have a moment like this again. He will never have another moment so pure and clear and beautiful.  The roar of his peers as they rush the field breeds one overwhelming howl of triumph as they sweep from the stands, onto the green and throw themselves onto their players; all hands clapping backs and arms hugging, oblivious to the sweat and grime of the turf.  And the noise. Oh, the noise.  It fills up every part of him; a glass of cold water.  It is approval and love and worship. It is holy, and he doesn't even believe in anything. He just believes in this, this cacophony; the riot of victory. He is swept away by the tide, and his own voice has joined in the cry.  He will never forget this.  He will never forget what it feels like to win."