“‘Cause she’s the real nitty gritty”
We went to one of the skeezier bars in town last night. It is in a shacky wooden house that caters to, well, pretty much anyone who would like it. They serve beer in plastic cups and loud, local, mostly mediocre bands play in the corner. But we were headed upstairs to the pool tables. The space between the railing you set your beer on and the ceiling is latticed off, i suppose so you don’t knock your beer over onto the bartender downstairs.
I got caught up looking down at the bar, the actual bar, where the liquor and the bartender are. It was heartbreakingly beautiful. It singlehandedly made me ache to have a darkroom again. I wanted to run home and dust off my camera…and buy it a new battery and some film and, well, it was all in the realm of ideas anyhow, so it’s no matter about that part. Between the lattice and the ceiling beams blocking your view and the half-empty alchohol stock and cramped bar space it looked like it ought to have been in black and white. If it weren’t for the faggy bartender and cans of red bull, you would never know the photos weren’t from 40 years ago. I think the juxtaposition makes it even more beautiful.
“Leaving Loachapoka” – Marshall Chapman