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2006-01-09 @ 11:14 p.m.
camera obscura and naked toes

Amazingly, after like eleventy hundred days in a row of cloudy/rainy/snowy/gray to the nth degree weather (ok, only 23), the sun finally broke through this weekend and there was much festive dancing in the streets. Okay, that was only me. I hate cloudy weather. And its funny, because when the sun finally does comes out and you’re driving, suddenly you’re cursing that giant orb in the sky, because you can’t see a damn thing. And unlike most of those rare sunny January days in our part of the country, it was also warm. But let me define warm. Now if this was June, I’d be piling on 23 coats, 2 pairs of socks, my beret and putting my head down against that fierce north wind. But in January, when it hits 39 degrees, people are out in shorts! I swear to God. I saw two people in shorts this weekend. Hey! The sun was out! Gotta work on their tan ferchrissakes! So what if there’s a little tiny bit of snow on the ground. What are you? Wusses?? Let's BBQ!!!!!

I definitely blew off the gym Sunday and took a walk in the real world. I headed down by Harold the Geek’s house. I happened to see him over at the yuppie grocery store on Saturday. I felt bad. I had just been to the gym and was a little tired when I heard my name. I briefly looked up to see a guy with an uber silly winter hat with ear flaps all asunder walking past. I didn’t really recognize him. I would have stopped and talked if I had known. Of course, he still hasn’t given me my supposed housewarming gift of a tea pot. I’m w-a-i-t-i-n-g. Isn’t that just like a Republican? To make promises they don’t intend to keep?

But his house looked empty as usual. I still think his “living with mother thing” is a red herring. I think he’s just an eccentric 50 something guy who never got married.

So I continued my walk. It felt so great to be out walking, especially after nearly 60 inches of snow in December. I always carry my camera with me. I used to be an avid photographer in my 20’s. That was the first time I knew I had some artistic talent. I was, in fact, feeling so good about being out and about and having the sun shining, that I decided to walk over to the cemetery. I used to have a “thing” for cemeteries when I was younger. I would walk in them. I would photograph them. I even worked as a movie extra in a cemetery scene once. I was mourning the death of actor Mark Harmon. Okay, hold it down. I can tell you’re impressed.

Did I mention I’m a weird artsy type? And remember how I mentioned that people who live in the snow belt kinda like to take off some of their clothing when it hits 39 degrees? And I’ve been watching back to back to back episodes of “Six Feet Under” with my new Netflix subscription, so now I’m kinda got the lingo down from the funeral genre and I’m kinda pale anyways and I’ve kinda seen dead people in department stores and staring in my window. So I decided to go to the cemetery which is right at the end of my street and shoot some pictures. Its a very lovely cemetery, as cemeteries go. And pretty old. With lots of plots from the early 1800’s. And some very wicked looking trees....

Naturally as soon as I got to the cemetery, I wanted to get nekkid with the deadies. Heh, not really. But I did suddenly feel all inspired and artsy. I no longer have a fancy camera, and the digital piece of crap camera my brother got me only worked briefly (my mom and I get his cast off electronics that are about to bite the dust), so I use Fuji throwaways and they’re pretty decent. So I walked to the nearest mausoleum and had to scan the cemetery. There was a woman walking her Scottish Terrier, so I had to stand there and pretend I was grieving some long lost relative. She took forever to walk by, but she finally did, and when she finally disappeared, I immediately took off my shoes and socks. Why? Why else, it was...Foot Fetish Sunday.

I do, indeed love my feet, but man was that stone ever cold to stand on. Gee, I wonder why witty? Because it was just recently buried under 60 inches of snow? Ya think? But like all artist, you must suffer for your art and somewhere along the way I must have also taken the Vow of Poverty, as well. I just don’t remember that part....

Anyhoo, I shot 3-4 shots of my feet and then had to get all this mud off of them. Yuck. I hadn’t counted on that. I then saw another person coming, with yet another Scottish Terrier. What is it with yuppies and their Scottish Terriers? It must be in the 23. “You must own or borrow Scottish Terriers for walks. They must make you appear appropriately sedate and L.L. Beane-like. They must measure exactly 11” high and 18” long and bark in the Key of “C”. Any variation will be grounds for dismissal from “The Club”. Thank You. Fortunately I had all my naked toes accounted for by time the second Terrier came into view. Didn’t want to be inappropriate in front of a Scottish Terrier.

I did continue to walk around the cemetery. Tromping actually. For some stupid reason I got off the paved part and was walking in all the mud. But I did find this large, slightly wilted, but still rather interesting exotic flower laying on the ground (not on a plot, just strewn) and then that became the star of my photos. And I swear to God, I came upon some melting snow and there it was...a small heart melted into some grass. This has been untouched by Photoshop. Honest!!

I tell you, its a sign. I did see another guy from “A”s old group today at the yuppie store. We’ll call him Pablo. I always liked him a little because of his sardonic sense of humor, but “A” said to not get involved with him, blah, blah, blah. I wouldn’t because I know he has problems. But today he seemed really different. I actually saw him and called out to him and we talked briefly. I think he’s going to school to be a professor. He was smiling, which he never used to do. But the weird thing was, when I got out to my car, I was fumbling through my purse for my keys and it was raining and I was uptight because I knew a car was waiting for my space and suddenly and unexpectedly I heard my name. And it was Pablo. His car was right next to mine. I wondered how he went in and came out so fast. He said, “I really think you look nice in your glasses.”

Huh? I hate my glasses and am always forgetting them because I refuse to wear them full time, even though I can’t see anything smaller than a Scottish Terrier. I told him that they’re my tribute to John Lennon (they’re big and round). And, damn, there he was smiling again. Weird.

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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty