Auburn Street (Photo credit: sahmeepee)
Take a seat we have to talk
i love you
and i hope one day i get to marry you…
having sex at the kennel today was difficult but I get a kick out of the fact that I can ‘boss’ you around!
Just rambling tonight. Anxious again.
You know I had met my psycho-ex-girlfriend’s wife, a couple of times. I even went so far as to attempt to knit her a scarf for Christmas. Had breakfast with her. Went over to the house like a visiting houseguest. Talked to her on the phone. Had her phone number on my contact list.
On and on and on.
Meeting the wife of your lover is not something I would recommend to everyone. I always had competition and always worried. I found myself in a state of constant panic, sped up/slowed down and hyper vigilant and always wanting to rectify the situation.
Beckett Couvillion the third is looking at me like I’m going to cry again. I cry often. Not over mistakes but getting caught in the mistakes. He sits on the day bed that looks out over Auburn Street. I sit with the power of texting in my hands.
I must be sending some mixed or weird vibe because Beckett has now tilted his head and smiled.
He knows what I went through. He knows the truth. He knows I’ve been duped. We all know it and chose to not believe the following:
When you are in love with a beautiful woman you watch…you watch your friends, you watch your back and you make sure that this is not a storyline that has been written before.
Photography is like knowing something for a split second and trying to retell it again to someone who doesn’t see things the way you do. Believing I am capable of loving someone is very similar to photography. That is if you are a follower of the Ambien Grace style of love:
I love people in ways that may not seem obvious. And when my hand is forced to show the ‘real’ me, no one understands the joke and the punchline is lost.
I suppose that is the difference between good photography and photo-shopped shit. Good love and plain old infatuation.
