So here I am again, at a car thing - yapping with yellow nailed and pitted men with accents saying things like "it comes from Russia" then snickering, sporting dogs and expensive glasses and little soft leather shoes. All this in a giant mud puddle in some park.
I know nada, nothing, zilch about ANYTHING to do with cars - but I start examining them, and allow myself to be mistakenly identified as one of the family who owns this or that car because I'm so audaciously in the middle of them photographing.
Oh god. What is that? And that and that? It's all so...sexy!
"Hi, do you own this? No, your friend? But really, you went across country in a blah blah blah spider thing and they're super easy to work on yourself? Really? I should get one?"
Maybe when I find my wallet I'll do that... or maybe when I have more than $33.87 in my bank on a good day. Yeah I'll get one then. But what was it? A spider, a fiat, a thing a mee whatever? I know it was white and had black seats. Yes - I know this.
Romeo oh Romeo! You'r buffed steal is so exciting to me...why? I do not know.
Where did my boyfriend go. I have this urge to rub his belly.
I walk around feeling that I know more about the intimate details of these candy coated capsules nestled in the mud than their owners.
But it's not true. These scarved and leathered euro snobs with cool glasses and funny looking grand children are DETAIL oriented. I'm not the only one getting into the intimate spaces of these beauties.
I am the only one kicking my heals up though, risking a catastrophically embarrassing slip into that there mud, to the beautiful sounds of Edith Piaff wafting past the grilled cheese sandwitch truck and on out of the park where it finds me dreaming of the Tuileries and stormy autumn skies in Paris now.
And, you see - although I can't afford that one easy to work on car...(until I find my wallet...), I can still own all these car parts.
That's what these little photo essays illustrate (that and copious amounts of extra libidinal energy)
Meanwhile my mud flap boy is off silently swooning over that alpha romeo's door handles. Cheater! Infidel!
God, you are so handsome...
You...you might be the reason
that I want to be better...less sloppy, smarter and more kind person.
Even though I want to cover you with mud sometimes and roll you down a hill.
Yeah, it's like that. That's all.