This is a journal entry from Saturday, June 16, 2007. It is a gateway into my psyche at the time. The photograph is of the groom hanging his head in shame for what he participated in with me that day.
J and I are driving through A, headed to see the old motel his grandfather used to own. When I see the rusted B M sign out front, I have to get out to take pictures. “No Trespassing.” I wave off J's reading of the sign taped to the Office & Boss door. We won’t be here long. He stays in the car while I shoot. Not even five minutes later, about the time I am walking back towards the car, a truck pulls up with an evil-eye casting old redheaded woman in the passenger seat and a irritated looking man in the driver’s seat. He pulls in behind us, blocking our only exit. “Can we help you?” In my best out-of-towner voice, “Oh, no, just taking some pictures.” “What for?” “A photography class.” At this, evil-eye says, “You ought not to be doing that.” How true. The man, puzzled, asks, “For WHAT kinda class?” “Photography. But I’ll just delete them.” Again, evil-eye, “You really ought not to be doing that.” The man tells me that folks have done stole all of his copper wire and run off with various other stuff. I nod and say that yeah, I’ve heard of such happening these days. “But really, I’ll just delete them, the pictures...” The camera beeps as I’m going through the photos. “Done. I’m really sorry about that. We’ll go.” He moves his truck out of our way with evil-eye giving it to us the whole time. I’m in the car and we’re pulling out. I apologize to J for putting him at risk the week before his wedding, especially for a couple of photos. He asks if I really deleted them. No, I just forwarded through them, making the camera beep in the hopes that they would believe I was deleting them. I’m such a freaking liar now, but I didn’t want to lose the photos. J jokes that, “You ought not to have done that.” I think I’ll work on a coffee table book of trespassing photography entitled You Ought Not To’ve Done That.
I’m drinking some Sand Mountain scuppernong wine and looking at the first of my series of trespassing photos. Well, there are other trespassing photos that come before these, so they are not the first. Perhaps they are the first with a purpose…what that purpose is, I don’t know yet.
I’m heading out tonight to see my other friend J win a tiara for himself to sleep in. He’s always dreamt of having his own. I completely understand wanting one, as I have had my own tiara for quite some time now (I, however do not sleep in mine). I absolutely love and adore him! He WILL win, I just know it!!! I was hoping he would be going by the shocking name of Ms. Anna Phalactic, but he’s using Suzanne Michaels instead. “Suzanne” for Suzanne Sugarbaker of the Golden Girls, “Michaels” for the name of the first gay bar in Tuscaloosa. I absolutely cannot wait! It should be quite a show. I will be looking for my own man tonight. You see, after much thought, I have decided to date gay men only. I know it doesn’t seem right, but I really don’t see the point otherwise right now. Mr. G did not work out, despite a great start, and he was hetero. I really think I am rightest only as a fag hag. So, I’m off to T D B for what should be a smashing time.
Almost five hours, two vodka tonics and a number of steamy spins around the dance floor with Uncle Jeffery later, I had had enough. Don’t get me wrong, I was having a fabulous time and Ms. Suzanne Michaels had placed second, thereby winning a much coveted crown to sleep in, but I was tired to my bones (mostly from defending my low-maintenanced self to Uncle Jeffery who felt I needed to kick it up a notch in the hair and make-up department in order to find a man) and wanted to go home.
No comments:
Post a Comment