This is a Polaroid double exposure of the mosaics on the walls of the Mayflower Cafe, in Jackson, Mississippi. I know what you’re thinking—is it a mural or a mosaic? Really you could pretty much use the terms interchangeably, I call them murals all the time, but technically when you use pieces of tile or glass it’s a mosaic.
A line from the Lydia Davis story “Molly, Female Cat: History/Findings” that made me ache: Sometimes cries after nap.
I only have one Napalm Death album on my device right now, their landmark second record, From Enslavement to Obliteration (for a while I carried Scum and Utilitarian as well as their recent split with Converge). I have to work really hard at not constantly “flipping the station” for pop songs, or just listening to the same song over and over while I’m in the car. (I will sometimes listen to the same song a half dozen times in a row). So I hit shuffle and started with HAIM—the device then played something off FETO, then Sharon Van Etten, then back to FETO, then Wye Oak, then FETO, then I had to stop it because it was weirding me out.
When crafting a double exposure, take care to expose the darker image first—the second image will “print” onto the dark spaces of the first image.
The other night I watched Adventures in Babysitting and it struck me how thrilled I was when it came out that there were so many references to Thor in it, that Thor is like almost a presence in the film. And there’s a Jack Kirby Thor hanging up in the kid’s bedroom! And let’s be honest, young Vincent D’Onofrio is a pretty great vision as the cranky, possibly Norse mechanic. It’s hard to believe this is a world where I have to make decisions like should I see this Thor sequel in 3D or just normal. Also am now fairly certain Elisabeth Shue is an under-appreciated comedic genius and that she might glow (she was only 24 in that movie!).
A sliver from Leaves of Grass that also made me ache:
(As if any man really knew aught of my life,
Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of
my own life
The other night I go to Kroger because a friend has told me they are making Oreos with Reese’s peanut butter and that is enough to get me to go to the Kroger. The check-out clerk is very skinny and has elaborately coiffed hair. Her nametag, I think at first, says “Fat.” I stare. It doesn’t say “Fat,” it says “Pat,” the P worn dull and smooth, reshaping her.
I started to watch a bunch of Law & Orders tonight to decompress after work but had to turn it off. There are already so many awful things in this world, and lately I cannot bear to watch pantomimed violence, no matter how loosely sketched, no matter if it is just a hint (I have long been unable to watch really violent movies or TV). It just all reminds me of a horror movie. Instead I read a Psalm: you stoop down to make me great. You broaden the path beneath me, so that my ankles do not turn. Turned ankles in the woods, now there’s a genre staple.
I get the same thing at the Mayflower every time, and every time it seems to be even better than the time before: onion rings, fettuccine Alfredo, and Diet Coke in little green bottles.
Polaroid 600 // Impossible Project B&W // Jackson, Mississippi