The whole thing started —as these things are wont to do— with an email.

“Hey, man. Jake here. You still at <insert soulless corporate behemoth here>?. I’ve been working on some performance art sessions for the people at the divey goth bar downtown. The one with the cage. Anyway, we’re planning a photo shoot. We want to put together an S&M photography exhibit. Nothing too hardcore. I’ve already got two female models lined up. So, I’ve been looking for a photographer to take on the job. Do you know of anyone? Would you be interested?”

I tried to frame this proposal in my head. Put it in perspective. Slice it and dice it. Punctiliously ruminate it. You know. Be professional. My thought process went something like this:

• BOOBIES!!
• On second thought… say wha?
• …
• It’s not everyday that I’m offered to be a porn photographer…
• I also know next to nothing about setting up anything that bears even a passing resemblance to a professional photo shoot…
• I can barely bullshit my way through a discussion of the law of thirds.
• So, on one hand, I have no idea what I’m doing.
• On the other hand, that has never stopped me before.
• …
• BOOBIES!!

When the day came, we were ready with all of our professional implements: An apartment, a digital camera, a tripod, a lightbulb mounted on a handheld enclosure and an endless supply of white russians.

As Jake arrived from picking Alice up at her place, I was still questioning the wisdom of my decision (this is something I do a lot, even though it never leads to anything). He introduced me as the photographer. She leaned in close and sniffed me.

- Well, at least he smells good. — Then she smiled.

I had no idea what to make of that, so I kept my poker face going. My poker face, incidentally, looks like something that would agonizingly crawl out of a murky swamp in the middle of death throes at the epilogue of a B-movie. Except red. And it quivers slightly.

One hour (and a few mixed drinks) later, I was shooting photographs of the two very attractive, half naked girls as they made out on the couch, and doing my best to keep up the appearance that a) I knew what I was doing and b) I wasn’t turned on. As you may anticipate, I failed miserably in both respects.

I think the first giveaway was my painful erection as I crouched next to them to shoot close ups.

The second giveaway was that I spent five more minutes in that position (trying to think of football), even though we were done with that part of the shoot.

The girls were great sports, though, and we got some great shots. As we worked, I kept telling myself that the whole “photographer ends up in bed with the model” scenario only happens in the most hackneyed of movies, and it was certainly not going to happen here.

You’re not re-enacting a penthouse letter. This is not your fantasy life. You have to get the models to sign a release. Control yourself.”

This, coupled with closing my eyes, breathing deeply, and exhaling slowly through my mouth, did… absolutely nothing.

I repeated this personal mantra when Alice started talking about how hot it was getting in the apartment.

I repeated it again as she asked me to loosen her bra and rub ice cubes on her nipples (she was tied at that point, so she couldn’t do it herself)

I repeated it one last time when she bumped against me as she looked over my shoulder while I downloaded the photos from the camera to my laptop. I recoiled slightly. She moved away and faced me.

- I’m sorry — she smiled.
- No worries… I mean… feel free… I mean… go ahead. If you want to…

She grinned.

As she kissed me, one phrase kept repeating over and over in my head:

My life is nothing but a never-ending stream of daisy-chained cliches”

— sergio on June 27, 2006     Comments (20)

Life update: In the months since I last wrote in this website, lots of things have happened. New projects have started and old projects have been dropped or completed. As far as my personal life is concerned, I’ve gone through many life-altering events, as I continue on trying to decide what the hell I’m doing (a question that remains unanswered to a prodigious degree).

In the personal level, the following is a fast recap:

• Met girl.
• Fell in love with girl.
• Moved in with girl.
• Things went awry.
• Moved out.
• Currently waiting for delivery of new place.

It’s difficult for me to write about this subject, and —given how much it meant to me— metaphorically relegate the whole period to what amounts to a footnote in my life (is that what we all are? footnotes in someone else’s cycle around a big ball of ignited gas?).

I will just say that she is, by all measures of the word, an amazing girl, and the relationship was fantastic while it lasted.

And so on…

Regarding South by Southwest and the (unofficially named) “Fuck Standards” panel:

It went famously”

Although there were some misgivings at the beginning, and we were genuinely worried we’d be pelted with decomposing vegetables, our message was not as far-fetched and offensive as the title suggested. The feedback was generally good (we made the SxSW honor roll, yay!), and all involved had a great time. Since other people have done a better job of summarizing the whole thing than I could, I’ll give you a few links to the lavishly detailed. the good, the bad, the general and the sexy.

I had an amazing time, and was incredibly glad to see old friends once more (even though Jeremy Keith did threaten to force choke me when he found out the subject for the panel). I will write a more detailed post on this later. For the time being, here’s a PDF of the presentation in case you want to peruse it:

Standards Deviation: Hacks and dirty tricks for the web (pdf)

— sergio on May 22, 2006     Comments (17)

Standards. My mother always said I should get me some of those. I think I did right by her. And by doing right I mean I don’t copulate with livestock or poultry, and I haven’t killed anyone.

So far.

That I know of.

Gotta start small, right?

Much has been said about standards in web development. Ever since the advent of the orange book, they’ve become a kind of panacea to the untamed, frightful illness that is Web Development Hell.

So, have they lived up to the hype? Are we developing better, faster, easier to maintain websites by subscribing to the church of the w3c?

Yes.

And No.

For a number of reasons, Web development is still far from being a field where you can achieve a great user experience if you follow standards to the letter.

Standards are not the end-all be-all of web methodologies. For years, people have been hacking together ugly, daunting, proprietary, but perfectly functional code. Hear the reasons and learn the tricks from the renegade side of the fence.”

This is what our panel is about. There are great people in it. Glenda, who has a confession to make (and whose open source boyfriend emphatically disapproves of this whole endeavour, btw), Kevin Gibbs, who brought us Google suggest, and more recently, Gmail Talk, Aaron Boodman, the guy who programmed Greasemonkey, and Johnnie Manzari, who worked as an interface designer at Adobe and currently handles the design needs of Slide, so you can at least be assured that we’re not talking out of our asses.

Quick FYI: The original title for this panel was:

Fuck Standards”

Just getting that out there…

We expect some hecklers and mudfights. Be prepared. Monday, 11:30am, at the Austin Convention Center. It’ll be fun.

— sergio on March 11, 2006     Comments (4)

There is something to be said about not writing:

it’s easy.”

That said, I wish there was a better explanation I could give than this one:

I’ve been busy.”

But I can’t.

And it’s the truth. Sort of.

When I moved to San Francisco I expected it would be harsh and cold, and that I’d have a very hard time getting around and getting to know people. And it was, both, and I did, both. For about twenty minutes. After that it’s been mostly smooth sailing. There have been ungodly amounts of work (if you’ve been watching the Slide website you might’ve noticed we have a slight tendency to completely redo it every week or so), lots and lots of fun and several new and great friendships.

In the middle of this all, I have neglected you. And that’s bad. You are not only people who come by and “sign the guestbook”. You are my friends and family. And it’s not right to be away from friends and family. And I’m sorry.

There. It’s done. Let us never talk about this anymore, ‘k?

Btw: San Francisco is full of crazy people. I think I’m starting to fit in.

In other news:

More on this later.

— sergio on February 13, 2006     Comments (11)

Since I have to come out of the dead somehow, and there is definitely no lamer way of doing it than with a meme that is older than the day count on my current pair of underoos, I shall blame the roommate and the australian weirdo for this one:

Four Jobs I’ve Had:

1. Encyclopaedia salesman.
2. Factory worker.
3. Career designer (as in —designing a Major for a university (insert omgwtf here))
4. Assembler programmer for mainframes.

Four Movies I Can Watch Over and Over:

1. High Fidelity
2. Grosse Pointe Blank (yeah, major Cusack man-crush going on here — don’t judge me, dammit!)
3. Boondock Saints
4. Equilibrium

Four Places I’ve Lived:

1. Guaymas, Sonora, México.
2. Guadalajara, Jalisco, México.
3. México City, México.
4. San Francisco, CA, US of A.

Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:

1. CSI (Vegas only)
2. Family Guy
3. 24
4. South Park

Four Places I’ve Been on Vacation:

1. Chiapas
2. Oaxaca
3. New York
4. Las Vegas (see this)

Four of My Favorite Dishes:

1. Huevos rancheros.
2. Meat.
3. More meat.
4. Vegan, medium rare.

Four Websites I Visit Daily:

1. Slide (what?)
2. Penny Arcade (Ah, Tycho, how you amuse me with your crazy antics!)
3. Panda Xpress (I’m loving this one to pieces)
4. Digg

Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:

1. On top of a Leviathan. Just for kicks.
2. On top of Drew Barrymore. Also for kicks.
3. Hawaii? (been considering this one)
4. Chiapas, maybe.

Four bloggers who I’m tagging as “it”:

1. Courtney, the girl with the fan club
2. Johnnie, designer extraordinaire
3. Donovan, just because it may piss him off.
4. Sosa. Nomás por joder.

— sergio on February 06, 2006     Comments (15)