Monday, August 12, 2013

irish girls and their jean jacket buttons

I want to start writing for this blog again.  I realize it is pretty shity in many, many ways; however, I love to have much of my writing in one place so I am not forever wondering what happened to, say, that fucking poem about Bob at the end of summer.  What I hate about this blog now:  that creepy scrawny old used fucking jeans and chalkware Jesus statue salesman stole my journal.  In that journal were some drafts to long, drawn out posts on here. This, in a crazy stoner-styled way--leads me to have paranoid thoughts that maybe he'll know this is my blog.  MWS, aka, Mack always tells me I give that guy way, way too much credit.  He is prolly right.  I need to add many, many more photos.  I adore so many of the photos I am taking for the BAY OF E.  I love my detailed photos.  I love finding old vintage jeans, especially the men's button fly LEVIS.  So sexy, soft.  I need to write like a paragraph and do at least one photo per day. Ironic I make fun of a jeans sales guy, right, and then congratulate my fucking self for doing the same thing. 

I want to write a bit about selling well worn shoes.  There are some normal doods out there buyin' 'em up.  And then there are some needy as fuck guys who wanna have an emotional connection about it; super boring.  Needy.  Lame.  Give me yer money, then please leave.  Unless you are a junky with track marks and get how cool, say, I dunno, William Burroughs is, I want very little to do with your long, drawn out emails that show me yer "soul."  Boring.  And more boring.  

Here is a photo of some pins I took off a shitty lampshade at the dump last week.  I mean, no wait:  they are from an ESTATE. I got 'em from a teenage girl's bedroom.  She was an IRISH teen, guys.  I do love this photo. I think it makes me a bad ass that I took such a simple photo. I can see the teen girl.  She is a good girl, like in that song, the one who loves Elvis and horses.  And her bf, too.  And she has these pins.  She is not a fucking cutter cuz she's not a weirdo.  She is borderline anorexic and she is sleeping with this thirty four year old guy who has a permanent five o'clock shadow and Rasputin intense eyes.  Green.  She always thinks of that JD Salinger short story when she is fucking him, "Pretty Mouth and Green My Eyes."  He does not get this.  He lives in a rented trailer in the rural part of her cousin’s town.  She sees him on the weekends.  The guy has a little girl and actually lives with a stripper.  This little red hair girl's got all these buttons on her jean jacket.  It's 1984.  She loves Billy Squire.  Mass is so boring to her, but she goes every fucking Sunday.  She goes with her cousin.  That guy’s wife works the lunch shift at Friendly’s; she goes over to the trailer after the service.  I can see her doing so many thing.  It would be crazy if these pins did not sell on the Bay of E. (Post note: they did sell, hahaha--2016)

Ok, here is what she wears on her jeans jacket; I have gone on way, way too long.  My favorite is the JESUS pin:

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