In the voice of one about to engage in !Meltdown! I said to famed filmmaker Jon Hand this: I am nooooot taking any more photos, as he was nearly dragging me by my right elbow towards the dancefloor where 50 or so did their best collective FunkyWhiteFolkGrooveThang, post-nuptials, mid-reception.
No. He wanted to dish on a Middling City luminary who shall be unnamed, who is of ill repute, &C, on a smoking balcony of the wedding reception factory where we found ourselves mere hours ago gainfully and freelancefully employed.
And, as we ran into a cigar sub-fete on said patio one of the puffers, remembering or recalling Yours Truly as an imbiber of stogeys, planted one in my hand. I proceeded to crumple the sad brown thing unintentionally and smoked it from the crack down.
The theme of this weekend is weddings. Unrelated song quote happening concurrently to this post: Aluminum tastes like fear. Compliments of Stipe and Smith, REM's New Adventures in Hi-Fi or whatever the helk it's called.
To date I have made images of perhaps 6,783 of them. And some of them confirm that people have love, real-live love, in their hearts. Today's was one of those, the look on the groom person's face was a study in intent desire, love, yes. The look that inspires this very - and temporal - thought: Hey, I'd like to have a look like that tossed my way from time to time.
The wedding of yesterday, I explained to one a week's worth of beautiful blogposts, and this was harvested from that one:
(Woman meanders up sun-drenched sidewalk of a church in toxic Niagara Falls, NY, a shamble of a building alongside some dismal, mustard-coloured housing projects. She is speaking loudly, nearly panicky, into a cell phone.)
This is YVONNE, when I left your house I had a LIT CIGARETTE IN MY HAND. Did I put it out.
This got my artful mind to thinking of a home in the toxic Niagara Falls area bursting into flames, aluminum (tastes like fear) siding melting off of the sides faster than you can mumble unfortunate fire. No, really, unfortunate fire.
Love's Fire.