3 czech reporters were abducted in iraq as they were making their way home. me, i'm no photojournalist. i lack the instinct, or maybe just the experience. take today, for instance. i'm quite good as stopping to pick up 36 miniature softcore porn playing cards strewn on the sidewalk in front of a herna (casino) bar, but 5 minutes later in corner grocery when the proprietor grabs a large knife to scare three drunk hoodlums out of his shop, i stand mutely by, gawking, the camera snug in my pocket. d'oh! then, 14 hours later, after discussing with honza how life is a dream, a memory whose moments we can select for emphasis, good or bad, we stepped on the B metro and a woman looked up at me from her seat and said, with a look of disbelief, Rob? i didn't recognize her at first, cuz i hardly ever recognize anyone (one more thing GW and i don't have in common--his political ascendancy based on phenomenal capacity for remembering names and faces, so they say), but then she reminded me: jessica, who used to work at still life in fremont, whose vocals appear on tonka, who the last time i saw her was at a party in seattle where i got , you guessed it, a bit too drunk. so maybe that's why i never recognize anybody, why i forget my camera in moments of intensity--i've blunted my instinct. well, whatever, needless to say, but i'm going to say it anyway, i didn't take her picture, will have to rely on these words to augment my memory.