Hi Elizabeth,
Happy Late Night. Once again you have gotten some great band photos. My favorite this time was of the dreadlocked guitarist reaching out to give what looks like a thumbs-up to the audience. That shot has a lot of the kind of little things I like: his expression and hair (both very rock n roll - rough but cool), contrasted by the smooth gold curve of his guitar. And he is framed perfectly by the three white lights overhead. A great shot, and it has that "in the moment" feel. You have many others in today's set that are also top notch. I like some of the angles you are choosing, giving a different view of things than is shown in a lot of rock photography. Keep doing it, and keep going for those "moment" shots.
3000 shots! Good lordy, Sweet Baby. In the old days, you'd have had your motor drive whirring away on your Nikon F3....... :)
I saw one post on FB, with a reference to Las Vegas, so I don't know if that was just a regular "like" of your friend's post, or if it means that another trip is on deck. But I am sure I'll find out! :)
What a year so far. It was my prediction that you'd become a Go-To photographer and director for your region, and that seems to be happening right off the bat. I mean, you were still in art school only 17 months ago. So............wow! :)
A basic Tuesday for me, working and reading on my breaks. In addition to my new Dr. Farrell book, I am re-reading a book called "The Road To Reality" by Roger Penrose, who is a high level math professor at Cambridge. I first attempted to read this book in 2004, but gave up in an early chapter when I came to complex numbers. Now, twelve years later, I still don't understand a lot of the language or the equations (speak English!, you doggone mathematicians!), but because I have read a lot of Dr. Farrell and other books on physics, astronomy and other complicated subjects, I have a better grasp intuitively of what Mr. Penrose is talking about, in trying to show a precise and magical mathematics at work in the Order Of The Universe.
The book is 1000 pages long. I'm now almost to page 100, so I should be finished by July or so. :)
At least I won't get Alzheimer's if I keep taxing my brain this way, haha.
Well, I wish I could say I was all done with Mr. Rappaport, but I'm not. Not quite, anyway. I have more questions from Lt. Columbo concerning Things That Seem Odd, when contrasted with how a crime of this nature would "normally" play out......
So here goes : we already know that when my ordeal came to an end, after about 24 hours, that it was not because of the LAPD, the agency one might expect to come to the rescue in such an event. Nor was it because of the FBI, or at least any official FBI with agents offering identification, etc. There were a couple of men in suits, in addition to the aforementioned military guys in jumpsuits, but the men in suits never identified themselves to me.
What was most noticeable about my rescue from Jared Rappaport, was how......invisible I guess would be the word......how invisible it was.
There were only a handful of men involved. A couple of men in suits, and a couple of guys in jumpsuits. The jumpsuit guys came first, in through the door after setting off a flash/bang device. The suit guys came later.
Here is what wasn't there : news personnel. This event happened in 1989, in the modern age of instantaneous news coverage. Call it what you will - a kidnapping, an abduction or a hostage situation - this is the type of major crime that would normally elicit Total News Coverage, especially locally here in Los Angeles.
An In House Hostage Situtation? With the hostage and the maniac both on the premises?
That means Max News Coverage, in any city at any time.
But at Jared Rappaport's house at 9033 Etiwanda Avenue that day, in September 1989, there was not a single news source to be had.
No one. No reporters, no helicopters, no nobody. Just the few men I mentioned, a couple in jumpsuits (military) and a couple in suits (authority).
No police, no SWAT team, no news reporters, no news helicopters. Nothing.
How do they do that?
Well, they have ways. It's called Jurisdiction. And jurisdiction goes upwards from local, meaning City (LAPD) to County (Sheriffs), to State, which is mainly Highway Patrol, to Federal.
And Federal trumps all.
Federal jurisdiction, if declared by the authority on site, can shut down and immobilise any local authority, even the mighty and highly professional Los Angeles Police Department.
Federal authority can shut down the pervasive news media, which is everywhere.
Except at Jared Rappaport's house on that day in September 1989.
He abducted me quietly, so to speak, and I was rescued quietly, again "so to speak", though in reality all hell broke loose in both situations, and in between during my captivity.
But no attention was brought to the situation, before, during or after.
Lt. Columbo would like to know why that is.
Why did unidentified Federal authorities come to my rescue, instead of local LAPD or regular FBI?
Why was there no news coverage?
How did they know I was being held in that house in the first place?
As far as I was aware, nobody knew I was in there, except for a close friend of my brother's who came into the house (as mentioned previously), and one or two neighbors who knocked on the door.
But how even did any of those people know I was in that house?
Rappaport abducted me fairly late at night, probably around 10pm in the evening, likely on a Saturday night on Labor Day Weekend, a holiday when things are slowed down. Auto traffic is down, especially on Rathburn Av., a side street. Foot traffic was non-existent. I saw no one as I was being taken away at gunpoint.
No one, as far as I was aware, knew I'd been taken away from my house, at least on the night it happened.
So if no one knew, because no one saw, and no one was around to see, then how the Hell did people know the next day? How did Chris's friend know?
Well, he knew because he very likely had an association with Jared Rappaport. Chris's friend is a filmmaker, and Rappaport teaches film, and they probably met during Memorial Day weekend 1989, when the friend was making a film (his senior project for UCLA) at our house, which was next door to Rappaport's. There is evidence involving such a meeting, but it is too long to go into here. Let's just say that this friend of my brother's was 100% involved in the backstory of why this MFer, Jared Rappaport, came to my door to kidnap me in the first place.
So that's how he, Chris's friend, knew I was in that house : because he saw me in there, because he came in there with Rappaport on the second day.
But how did Federal authorities know?
Well, they had been on scene the night before, when the whole thing began.
I won't get into that now.
When I was finally removed from Jared Rappaport's house, I was taken away - not in an ambulance as you would expect - not to a local hospital...
No, I was taken away......in a helicopter that hovered over Etiwanda Avenue......I was lifted up in one of those baskets they put people in, a gurney that looks like a "chicken basket", and I was lifted up in that basket, in a state of shock but lucid, and some more military guys pulled me in the basket, into the helicopter, and I was taken away.
Not to a hospital, but to a military base.
An Underground Military Base.
Accompanied by a man we all know, who had been one of the Men In Suits at the Rappaport house, and who had been in charge of the whole situation.
That's how I was rescued, and that's where they took me, and it's no joke. ////
See you in the morning......
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo :):)
No comments:
Post a Comment