I take photos of cafe food. Because I have a coffee blog. I guess that makes me a hipster. But most of the time I don’t want to see photos of your food on Instagram. Unless you’re somewhere really cool. Here’s POHTPOF
Faux-spiritual fauxtivation is the new black on Instagram. I’ve always fancied myself a hallmarkesque writer of vaguely convincing half truths – and lets face it, that’s what passes for truth these days. So I’ve launched an experiment that is part seeing how gullible the internet is, part fun, part outlet for my cynicism.
Will you join me? Will you be #benspired?
When I get sick of it I’ll do a bit of a breakdown on what sort of pictures and quotes were the most popular and what that says about the instagram generation. Maybe. Or maybe I’ll be so benspired I’ll start believing the hype.
There’s a bit of a rebuke in here for me… and my countless photos of Soph and coffee – but in my defence I use the coffee ones for my blog, and the Soph ones for the sake of having cool filtered photos of her on my computer. Maybe I should have an account just dedicated to those purposes…
There’s a bit of a swear word here. So block your ears if that offends.
Do you instagram? How do you instagram?
So I’ve been absent from blogworld for a few days. What’d I miss?
In the real world our little family were taking our first family holiday – we had been planning to go to the Gold Coast hinterlands, right up until the car was packed, and I was printing out our wotif booking. Only to discover that some idiot had booked the accommodation for the wrong weekend. After a mad scramble around the interwebs we booked three nights in Stanthorpe at the Sommerville Valley Resort.
Soph was a bit excited en route.
Here’s the view from the balcony.
Here’s the view from the lounge room.
We saw the pyramids. Well, a slightly lamer Australian version…
Went to a fun jam shop where Soph charmed the storekeepers. Which was lucky.
Soph, in turn, was charmed by an ornamental peacock in our room. She couldn’t get enough of it.
We added a bit to the trip with a Tour De France style experience on the way home.
And now, the craziness of college begins for another semester.
Instagram was down yesterday. Along with a bunch of other bits of the internet that are hosted on Amazon’s servers.
I like Instagram (my username is nmcampbell and you can check out my profile using the nifty webstagram service), it’s almost exclusively my camera app of choice for cafe reviews on thebeanstalker.com. I take a lot of photos of Soph, and a lot of photos of food. So now, when I read this McSweeney’s “Open Letter to people who take pictures of food on Instagram“ I feel a bit bad.
“You proceed to take various angled shots of the avocado being sliced, the blueberries getting washed, and your bearded boyfriend plucking feathers from the partridges because the Farmer’s Market only sold them with feathers, because plucking out the feathers themselves would be too mean and they’re the nice kind of farmers who kill with love. And now that your meal looks professional and Alexandra Gaurnaschelli would approve of it (but Scott Conant would totally get the one piece of undercooked bird) there is a great final product shot taken, complete with two Coronas because you were feeling summery.”
That’s me. Here are some instagram photos of our dinners last week.
Guilty as charged.
Mastergram takes properly artistic “masterpiece” photos and treats them with Instagram filters.
But one of the downsides of instagram is its lack of web presence. You don’t get a profile, you have to have the link for each photo you’ve uploaded from wherever you’ve uploaded it to (be it Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Flickr, etc) to get to the photo’s native location on the instagram server.
Instagram is rumoured to be working on a nice web interface. It’s coming. So they say. But in the meantime check out this neat little 3rd party service called webstagram. All you need is the person’s username and you’ve got a nice little instagram profile.
We spent the weekend helping out on the farm. For those who missed it – my in-laws are on a property outside Dalby that flooded twice in the last month. The flood destroyed a crop – and a bunch of stuff that was kept in storage around the place, some electrical bits and pieces in the sheds, but mercifully spared one crop and the house.
The crop that didn’t fare so well presented a problem – it doesn’t really have any value, and is now in the way. The good side of the flooding is that all the soil on the farm has a full water profile (which means it’s wet to about ten inches or something and great for growing stuff). Farmers these days like to plant on top of the stubble of the old harvest because that provides nutrients for the new crop. To cut a long story short – the decision was made to burn the old crop (which actually didn’t go so well – it didn’t want to burn) before it turned out that it was actually fairly easy to take the planter through the ruined canary, planting new stuff over the top of it. The canary should shed its seeds on the field – which will then grow next winter…
Our biggest job while we were there was moving the massive centre pivot irrigator from one field to another.
Rubbernecking sounds like the kind of thing hormonal teenagers do in the back of the school bus. But no. Rubbernecking (verb) is the act of taking a squiz at something. In Brisbane, it’s the verb used to describe going flood spotting. Something the police and the Premier are eager for us not to do.
But we did.
Yesterday we had a little drive into Brisbane’s CBD. Here are the Instagram results.
Floating bins in the driveway of 111 Eagle St – a new development
Some fellow rubberneckers – beyond the police tape
A view of the Storey Bridge
One of the jetties at the Eagle Street Pier, the arch is the top of the pedestrian access gate
Sandbags on Queen Street
Creek Street as a Creek
Down the River from the Eagle Street Pier
I like this app a lot.
The Go-Between Bridge from the Library window
Boats doing their thing on the river
I took a walk down to the pontoon on the way home.
The walkway is pretty covered
It started getting a bit foggy
I managed to get the train home
And I reckon this sign was a little redundant
At the moment I’m sitting on level five of a building in Southbank, overlooking the river. I’m watching a truck out the window, across the river, on the Riverside Expressway. It’s crawling. The same truck has been in about the same spot for the last fifteen minutes.
I’m also playing with Instagram – an iPhone photo app that I like.
And delving into the Twitter hash tag world for the first time.
These floods are amazing – and weeks of watching the rest of Queensland go underwater have instilled an odd panic in lots of people. The office is pretty bare. Lots of people have left. Rumours are flying (thanks to Sky News) about the impending closure of Brisbane’s public transport system. Nobody is quite sure whether or not that’s happening. Us marketers/PR people are a hardy bunch, and will no doubt be the last out of the doors.
Yesterday my sister-in-law who lives in Toowoomba walked into a shop just before the inland tsunami swept cars and utes around the streets like an over-zealous street cleaner.
My parents-in-law are bracing for a second round of flooding on their farm outside Dalby. It’ll probably go higher than the last one – and doubtless do more damage.
These floods are crazy. Crazy.