So as I've posted many times, I'm troubled by this photo gig. It's intrusive, and who besides weirdos likes their photos taken? (Self-portraits don't count. Sane normal rational healthy virtuous model citizens adore self-portraits.)
So the theme you've probably detected over the past year or so is how my photo ethical standards have slowly eroded. And by "eroded" I mean disappeared altogether.
Reader, I love you and I do this for you. I love you with all my squishy and gushing wine-warmed heart, and I put my own conscience and integrity at risk for the good of the blog. Even at the cost of prison. And excommunication. Or, worse, a freakin' intervention. (In one of life's rich ironies, an intervention surely to be led almost exclusively by readers of the blog.)
I was walking down Broad Street, whistling "Little Piggies," trailed yet again by a police cruiser. And why? No, not because of the crystal meth convictions. Those were overturned. Six words, my friend: Fruit of the bloody poison tree. HA!! No, not because of the meth. But because of the camera. I pretended to walk into a store, and that lost the cruiser, and on I went with my stealthy search for the perfect candid photo.
And here they were, two women alone in a vast beauty salon. The sun was down, and this was surely the last customer of the day. It's clear they were good friends sharing private jokes, probably about the ridiculous men in their lives and the lives of their friends. The shades to the salon were already drawn, and the only opening was the glass door. I zoomed in with my camera, focused, and click.
Voila! Perfect.
Yet my heart raced and my stomach churned with guilt. What a horrible horrible invasion of privacy. My sweet lord, what is wrong with me? So I vowed to never ever ever EVER post this photo. Just ever. What kind of sick animal am I?
Anyway, I hope you like it.
For what it's worth, this is Timekeeper's most dreaded kind of post--the over-the-top confession enmeshed in a great big yarn.
"Mike, why do you do this? You know people will believe you about the police cruiser. What's the point? It's not funny, and it's not necessary. I don't even get it."
"Really? You think they'll believe that? Cool. Do you think they'll believe me about the crystal meth conviction?"
"Good grief, no. You're the retard, not them."
"Oh, right. I forgot."
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14 comments:
The sickest. The sickest kind of sick animal.
To answer your question.
Rock Chalk, baby!!
Andy D: This comment was mean. Yet it had perfect comedic cadence. Hmmm....should I be hurt, or should I love it?
Ahigh Five!
Andy D: Allow my buddy Malcolm to respond for me: "We've been bamboozled! Hoodwinked! Run Amok! We didn't land on Plymouth Rock! Plymouth Rock landed on us!"
And yet, ironically, to lead an intervention would actually be against our best interests, as it might make you stop. When I read the internet in the mornings, I expect to find rambling confessions emanating from your gushy heart, and the more it has raced with stomach churning guilt, the better my day becomes.
I mean that in the least sadistic and vicious way possible.
Best watch the usage of the term "retard" or you'll have Sarah Palin all over yo' ass.
And for people who need "context" to understand my "humor" go here:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ynews/ynews_ts1114
Theory: it is not possible to have each of the following two traits:
a). Not a sadist, and
b). Friends with Mike B.
Trust me, I'm talking from decades of understandings and insights, here.
Theory = fact.
Oh, and I like the photo and the way you have presented it.
Also: my wife has relentlessly been making fun of me for some attempts at self-portrait (including two different FB profile pics, both of which she calls "creepy").
1. Nice. Very intimate.
2. I want to believe in the patrol car.
JC--thank you for posting the MODEL comment. It compliments me and encourages me to do more of the same.
You're the winner.
Game:
We know you don't take requests, Blogmeister. But if you did....
I'm at my son's middle school and high school combined band concerts. Several song titles in the program seem, how do I say.... Like maybe you could post a better, more compelling photo with this title, than the music composition itself suits the same title?.... Nah. I know you won't even want to try. I mean, art vs. art contests are no fun...
But, if you did - try these on:
Shenandoah Triptych
Schmoozability
The Imperial Crown
Fires of Mazama
Spirit of Avalon
Count Rockula
AD
Andy: Though it's the only title I would have conceivably thought of, now that I've read it I promise NEVER EVER EVER TO USE it in any title:
Count Rockula.
Claudia, do you play music with titles like this??
JC--I didn't address something you said. I really am glad you see this as an intimate photo. I agree. That's part of the reason I did feel queasy about it, but it's also the element that makes the photo. It's a strange photo, isn't it?
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