Hairs
I was walking through the park after work today, thinking about going to this concert tonight, trying to decide before I reached the cutoff point. Cutoff Point: that spot where I am equal parts distant from concert and my apartment. I had gotten the tickets for free, and sort of invited the brother, but it was hot and the prospect of spending an evening smelling my brother wasn't very inviting.
So I sat on a wall under some trees while I thought about it. If I didn't feel compelled to wander towards the Drunken Unicorn within 15 minutes, I would head home.
Is that last sentence in the passive voice? I'm worried about that and the sounds Adam makes when he coughs.
So these girls were sitting on the other side of the little collection of trees. They were more like large bushes. The point was that they shielded me from the sight and hearing of those girls. This was important, as they were dressed in black skirts and spiky belts (AKA suburban version of indie). Also, they were taking turns draping themselves over the wall and various harmless inanimate object as the other took pictures. Not that I'm elitist or anything, but this was a bad scene.
I take that back. I'm more than a trifle elitist.
When setting this scene, it is important to remember that I got a haircut yesterday, and my mohawk was fully deployed. Like shiny things, nudity, and bright lights, this tends to attract people.
So one of the photographers wanders over, doing her best impression of a girl who had just graduated from highschool and was looking forward to her freshman year at an out of state art school where she would make at least two bad relationship decisions. She asks permission to take my picture, and we chat for a bit. She's just graduated from a highschool in Florida, is currently in summer school at SCAD, and will be attending the college next year in Atlanta. She runs some sort of fetish photography studio through myspace. I resist mentioning how much being photographed turns me on.
She finishes taking pictures and leaves with her friend. I take a nap on the wall, then walk home.
So I sat on a wall under some trees while I thought about it. If I didn't feel compelled to wander towards the Drunken Unicorn within 15 minutes, I would head home.
Is that last sentence in the passive voice? I'm worried about that and the sounds Adam makes when he coughs.
So these girls were sitting on the other side of the little collection of trees. They were more like large bushes. The point was that they shielded me from the sight and hearing of those girls. This was important, as they were dressed in black skirts and spiky belts (AKA suburban version of indie). Also, they were taking turns draping themselves over the wall and various harmless inanimate object as the other took pictures. Not that I'm elitist or anything, but this was a bad scene.
I take that back. I'm more than a trifle elitist.
When setting this scene, it is important to remember that I got a haircut yesterday, and my mohawk was fully deployed. Like shiny things, nudity, and bright lights, this tends to attract people.
So one of the photographers wanders over, doing her best impression of a girl who had just graduated from highschool and was looking forward to her freshman year at an out of state art school where she would make at least two bad relationship decisions. She asks permission to take my picture, and we chat for a bit. She's just graduated from a highschool in Florida, is currently in summer school at SCAD, and will be attending the college next year in Atlanta. She runs some sort of fetish photography studio through myspace. I resist mentioning how much being photographed turns me on.
She finishes taking pictures and leaves with her friend. I take a nap on the wall, then walk home.
posted by Fifth at 7:56 PM
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