Robin's egg blue suit [Clarksdale, MS]: photo by Andrew Murr, 24 January 2018
The confinement the bars suggested to me at the time was about race. I took the photo in Clarksdale, MS, at a second hand store in the black community, so it's safe to assume this dress was once the suit of a black woman dressing up for church. Even in the worst of times, church was a place for black pride, family power and self-determination. So here's this beautiful artifact of pride and determination, and even today, after decades of significant change and improvement, it remains stuck behind bars.
A more cheerful person might say it also suggests that the artifact is a bequest to a younger generation.
-- A.M.
Two crows [Hollywood Hills]: photo by Andrew Murr, 25 January 2018
15232 Meeting [south LA]: photo by Andrew Murr, 25 January 2018
Palm meander: photo by Andrew Murr, 25 January 2018
Untitled: photo by Andrew Murr, 23 January 2018
God #1 [silver spring, washington dc]: photo by Roy, 29 December 2016
There's normally a
sort of blitz spirit on these occasions. Dark humour. How can there not
be, when you can literally smell what the person next to you had for
dinner last night?
But today was
different. The crowd was tetchy. There had been some jostling on the
platform, and the odd (half-embarrassed) cry of "move DOWN". When I
boarded, a lady with a strong Liverpudlian accent had started yelling at
the guy next to her for squashing her arm.
So we're
barrelling along between stations, and we are squeezed in TIGHT. Barely
able to move my head, I turn my head and look to the right.
What I see there chills me to my very core.
What I see there chills me to my very core.
About three feet away, there's a small bloke standing with his back to the door. Must be 16/17 years old. He is truly hemmed in, arms locked to his side, his wee head like the end of a sausage poking out of a hot dog. And the look on his face is one of sheer terror.
His eyes are wide. His nostrils are flared. He's moving the top of his mouth in a circular motion and frantically crinkling and uncrinkling his nose.
The poor bastard is about to sneeze.
For a moment I wonder if he might be able to suppress it. He's trying his best. He's doing everything he can. But I can see that he is ultimately powerless. Like a gathering storm, the sneeze cannot be resisted. It is a force of nature.
I enter a state of high alertness. On a quick calculation I reckon that I am outside of the immediate blast radius, and so am probably safe. But there must be five people in direct danger. Five grumpy commuters. One of them is Angry Scouse Lady.
In the microsecond before the sneeze comes, I lock eyes with the guy. He looks at me like a man who has been sent to the gallows. I try to look sympathetic.
I can still see it in slow motion. It begins as a sort of spasm deep down inside the guy, an irrepressible wave of energy building from his abdomen, spreading up through his chest and neck, rushing to burst out through his nose.
His head jerks back, hitting the door behind him. His eyes are closed. In the same second, the people surrounding him begin instinctively to recoil.
I can see Angry Scouse Lady's eyes widening as she realises, much too late, what has befallen her.
But at the very moment of climax, the instant when I thought my fellow Londoners would be covered in nasal debris, something incredible happened. I'll remember it til the day I die.
His jaw clamped shut, our man somehow takes the full brunt of the sneeze internally. His entire face - cheeks and upper neck area - expand outward like a bullfrog before rapidly contracting again. He emits two noises simultaneously: a high-pitched squeak and a deep, gutteral moan.
It was LOUD. Half the carriage crane to look. No one knows what's going on. The guy's eyes are half-closed and streaming with moisture. Were it not for the passengers propping him up, he'd have collapsed from the effort.
After a few seconds he opened his eyes and we again acknowledged each other's presence. He must have seen the admiration on my face because he gave me an imperceptible nod - regal, magnanimous - modestly recognising the scale of his achievement, but without wishing to gloat.
That guy is my morning hero, and I wrote this thread in homage to him.
A series of tweets: Jamie Susskind @jamiesusskind, 25 January 2018
God #2 [silver spring, washington dc]: photo by Roy, 11 January 2017
Untitled: photo by Massiliano Landi, 19 December 2017
Untitled: photo by Massiliano Landi, 19 December 2017
Untitled: photo by Massiliano Landi, 19 December 2017
the bench question [Turcoing]: photo by michel nguie, 24 January 2017
Hörder Bahnhofstrasse | Dortmund: photo by d.n. alor, 13 January 2017
Hörder Bahnhofstrasse | Dortmund: photo by d.n. alor, 13 January 2017
The Date
so then... getting late... aneurysm or mine?
red restroom [MOMA, San Francisco]: photo by Philippe Reichert, 31 December 2017
red restroom [MOMA, San Francisco]: photo by Philippe Reichert, 31 December 2017
red restroom [MOMA, San Francisco]: photo by Philippe Reichert, 31 December 2017
manifest destiny. mojave desert, ca. 2016. the under construction hwy 58 bypass stretches to the horizon with twin ribbons of fresh concrete across the mojave desert.
solar parabolic. harper dry lake, ca. 2006. | parabolic mirrors track the sun, heating oil to over 400deg C which is used to run a boiler and turbine, generating electricity
expired film - Someone Used To Live Here, 2013 | Blue Mountain Beach, Florida. Expired Kodak MAX film.
1 comment:
Dylan: Tomorrow Is a Long Time (live, Vicar Street Dublin, 13 September 2000)
Dylan: Delia (live, Newcastle 19 September 2000)
The Wedding Present: I'm From Further North Than You (video)
The Wedding Present: My Favourite Dress (live, Sydney 2012)
Post a Comment