The latest "unit" in the monstrous and unyieldy photo essplorationay.
I am on E's left. We are standing in front of my Volvo under Crash Landing's driveway. I am wearing a grey visor. You can't exactly make out the orange letters, but it says GAP with frayed edges along the outside of each letter. I called it my ironic visor. I liked wearing it on long car rides and at other times that seemed appropriate. I think I look like I'm about to laugh or that I just said or was about to say something I thought was funny. I'd like to imagine that when the photograph was taken I was thinking that, though it was awkward for my mother to be taking a photograph of E and me, it was a good thing as well. I think I was happy. I didn't know E. that well, still, and the sex wasn't as good as it was going to get. We were a preliminary couple. He is smiling, showing teeth. He still has the eyebrow ring I hated that was always getting infected. We drove to his home in Virginia after the photograph was taken. We took adderall for the drive and E matched me cigarette for cigarette for a large portion of the trip. At the time the fact that he did this wasn't strange to me, I can't remember if I'd seen him smoke a cigarette ever before. Looking back it was a very strange thing for him to do. Something he never did again. He took to pretending to eat my cigarettes and throwing packs into the street or onto the floor.
On that trip, I think, I told E that I loved him accidentally. I remember being surprised when I realized what I said. I wasn't entirely sure it was true. I tacked on a 'you're so funny' to try to take it back. He had said something funny. It's a shame I can't remember what he actually said. It would be handy to have the ability to see if the comment was worth a declaration of love.
A few months after the photograph was taken, my mother sent me a package. In it were two identical frames with identical photographs of E and me in Tennessee about to drive off to Virginia. At the time of the photograph we had been dating for four months. So perhaps we had reached the sixth month mark before the frames arrived, I don't know. I felt funny about the two frames, one for me and one for him. It seemed too soon for physical objects especially matching ones provided by my mother. I told E about the two frames, I think, but I didn't give him his. I took the photograph out and gave it to him but kept the frame. Though I felt uncomfortable giving E that kind of keepsake, for fear of seeming to be moving too fast, I did keep my framed photograph intact. And when I moved into a new apartment it was on my mantelpiece, I think. Then in Chicago it was placed in both living rooms we shared. We look young, the two of us, and amused. The frame now is in the second drawer of a dresser in the dining room. It is full of envelopes, shitty pens and out of date stationery.
I eventually filled the other frame with a photograph of L, E and me in the Bard College studio arts building, the night before L and I graduated. R.S. took the photograph. L is wearing a 1980s prom dress monstrosity and a hot pink wig. It looks like E was just holding her and she's sliding off or she's hoisting herself up. I am moving towards the camera, one hand grabbing at it, my mouth in mid-syllable. I didn't want R taking the picture, I didn't have many very left (before the digital age became omnipresent, if you can believe it) and R seemed to be a little cavalier in his framing. It turned out to be the perfect representation of that night and many other nights like it. We drank too much, partied too hard and, in this specific instance, I almost missed graduation because of it, but the night was a lot fun. Or I think it was. I don't quite remember the very end of it, of course.
Can I always remember the nuances of context and my thoughts if given a photograph as a reference point? Perhaps not. But I can look at a framed image and know that (at least half of the time) the people within the image are lost to me now. Often enough that is a sad thing but not always. The first year after graduation I stuck around the Bard College area. I did this, in part, because E was still in college down the road and I wanted to stay near him, I wanted to give "us" a chance. But another reason I didn't pack up and drive away from the area was because I had no idea where to go or what to do and so staying in a small town, working at a suffering restaurant and then a sheep farm seemed to make sense. Of course most of my classmates and friends did move away from the area with diplomas in hand. This led to a social vacuum that I filled by inviting acquaintances (and remaining friends in the area) to my house once a week (Mondays, I believe) for 'adult macaroni and cheese night'. Adult because the dish included five kinds of cheese and didn't come in any shade of bright orange. Each week I would make this dish, buy a bottle of vodka, orange juice and lemonade and each week 4-10 people would show up and eat the food and drink the vodka. I have hundreds (literally) photographs of these nights and their ever rotating participants. One night we ended up going to a nearby bar after the food was consumed. T, the bowtied bartender, took a photograph of that week's crew: me, E.S., I.M., K.M., A.R. and R.P.M (actually he's not in the photograph but I really feel like he should be). We all look more sober than we were (though, upon closer inspection we all have water in front of us...so maybe we weren't entirely 'schnockered') and just as entertained as we were. When I look at this framed image I don't feel sad. I don't really feel like I especially miss any of the people in the photograph. They are simply people of the past. Drinking buddies, social fillers and former neighbors. But that is unkind because I remember that general time period, or at least those Monday night get-togethers, fondly. Though I don't actively miss any of the people in the frame, I do appreciate what they brought to my life at the time: fun, silliness, drunkenness, conversation and distraction. How long does it take to know someone? Forever. It's about whether you like who YOU think they are as you continue to get to know them.
Yesterday morning I got an email. It was the most exciting email I've gotten in a long time. In it I was offered a paid internship...in Key West...in which, for at least a part of the time, I will be living 'in a 30 foot sail boat built in 2002 in an upscale marina'. It has electricity and cable. Probably not a shower. But heck! Soooooo. Yeah. Um. Knock on wood, cubicle or wall-space but, like, I'm totally going to be in Key West starting in January....working in a more writerly, though drudgey, fashion.
