Dashboard Confessional was a stop along the way tonight, as I speedblog. I noted the shifty eyes of Chris C, the man behind DC, the man who bit the logo of ACDC, the man, who if he had a memory seizure could safely say The crowd'll take over. He was too aware of my photographic presence in the pit, glancing down when he should have been glancing out at the sea of adoring and screaming teens. There were tears shed out of young eyes when they were not glancing through their FunSavers.
A later stop was the annual Red Cross charity MASH Bash where people cavort under really musty army surplus tents trying to look like MASH extras. Some pull off Hot Lips or Father Mulcahy fairly well.
I shot a couple in naval attire (her) and scrubs (him). I made four frames of them and moved on. The "doctor" came and tapped me on the shoulder: I hate to be a pain but she wonders if you'll come back and shoot another picture of us, she wants to do something with her leg.
As I knew one of the threesome I was then shooting I tipped her off: Something interesting is going to happen with this woman's leg, you may want to watch.
I walked over. The naval girl basically did a split on her beau, revealing all sorts of Victoria's Secret wares.
Of course suitable for publication, what do you think, I shoot for Highlights?
Disco was pumping through the musty tent and as I was leaving two girls were passing out on a curb outside the tent and one said to the other, roused out of her stupor:
Uhhhh, the BeeGees, not the BeeGees.
And I slipped off into the darkness, a ghost done with her soul-stealing for the time bean.
Love.