nancyjparisi@gmail.com
Wowee. I am a Gmail pioneer. First, a Blogger pioneer (though these fuckers have never selected Yours Truly as a Blogger of Note but, to borrow Brucey's patented phrase... They'll be sorry.) and now this.
Yesterday's toppermost of the poppermost happening was the shooting (no pun intended, for real) of an army lady who is also a college type who has returned (4 days and counting) from Iraq. Who is shell-shocked. Who is shellacked.
I was in her mother's kitchen discussing the various poses and stances and attitudes and such I wanted from her and her likeness (as Avedon says, an OPINION and so freakin' be it).
Her mother trotted off and retrieved this femme's helmet, pointing to a sore spot, a bullet hole made when little army returnee was over there in the hot hot desert, in the hot hot action. A graze mark. While on her head. And how did this happen, I asked, her mother wanted me to ask, the army girlie did not want me to ask. Well, she began, one of the new recruits emptied his round accidentally. Accidentally nearly shot her head off.
Blowback nothing.
Friendly fire.
Shot her amidst some flags her mom had festooned in front of the family's suburban property.
Plastic flags for a nearly gunshotheadoff lady.
Sounds like a song.
Patriot Act of Love.