Many of you might think that my interest in the banal is due to the technological wonder of digital photos, assuming that the relative cheapness of digital media leads to pictures of nothing, or subjects that should be relegated to the trash heap. Unfortunately, my love of stupid shit has been around for some time now. I’ve been cleaning up some of my space and came upon a stash of real developed photos that I’d shoved into a lunchbox I was tossing. It is quite the time capsule, taking me back to the not so recent past that means nothing to anyone other than me. So be it. But take a look anyways.
That photo above: Somebody came to tell me that the weird kid from a few doors down was eating flowers. I took a picture of him in the act. We tried to stop him but he was crazy and didn’t care what we thought about his diet. His mom knew about it, so we had the right to just laugh at Lil Loco and his way with the flores.
As a teen the inside of cemetery walls were often the best place to spend some time with friends without being harassed by police. Especially at night. But eventually somebody would snitch and we’d be running from cop cars and helicopters. It was still better than staying at home with nothing to do.
I think this was at the Odd Fellows cemetery but maybe not.
Open windows, flying curtains. Shouldn’t there be a screen? Life in my neighborhood of Wyvernwood, where everyone was always peeking out of windows.
Coordinating a bunch of tops to spin for a picture? Lame!
My mom, on the verge of another forgettable meal. Boiled Lengua on a platter? At some point that would become the highlight of how much I disliked her cooking. There was also the tripas incident in which I left all of mine on the plate and put it in the sink, and my older sister took the blame and the beating. While transitioning to a vegetarian diet she kept adding cow and chicken parts to my meals, “es que se me olvido”. I learned to cook soon afterwards.
I’m sure my mom made some decent meals at some point, but I can’t remember which ones those were. I’ve only asked her about recipes from my grandmother. Don’t worry, I still love her even though she is utterly crazy.
No, for reals.
My dad in a frame and some pumpkins.
Yup, I had a lot of chickens. Socialist newspapers were often put into a more practical service.
Out of focus cockroach on a refrigerator door. Surely this was at a neighbors house.
I don’t get it.
Tia Rosita, relaxing.
Pricey crap food that is suddenly affordable with food stamps. Although nowadays I limit my consumption of processed and fast food I still understand the inclination towards cheap and filling fare. This is a good spot for some class analysis to be developed by “foodies” and those “Food Desert” activists.
Found in the stack of pics. I can’t remember taking this picture. Maybe someone I knew had the camera. But this is pretty much my favorite picture of the bunch. Something about how fucked up it is, and how perfect it is. Wait, maybe this was at Flipper’s pad?
I’m still riding this old bike. Shimano XT still holding up.
Helicopters over BH. What’s new?
Nothing is new.