I was bored on Sunday so I did what any other bored person would do: called up a friend, stuffed a Ketchup-smeared box over her head and stuck her in creepy area plethoric with bad vibes, foreboding “no trespassing” signs slapped all over a boarded up church, homicidal rustling in the woods, and mysterious intonations of a drum circle wafting over train tracks.
Coulterville is my favorite place to go to take pictures because it has it all: train tracks, fields overgrown with weeds, desolate churches, haunted cemeteries, winding backroads, and menacing bikers watching from a doorway to a secret bar. And who doesn’t like the sensation of being watched from the woods while they’re crouched down, taking photos, expecting a one-eyed survivor of a chemical spill wielding a machete and a surgical kit to lunge out of a slipshod outhouse.
Alisha was all, “OK, hurry please ” because not only was she too afraid of getting disemboweled and strung up in a tree, but because ketchup apparently attracts bugs.
She just wants a hug, ya’ll.
She wasn’t just posing here. This was a real life cower-in-the-corner moment. It’s creepy there! There are signs everywhere reminding us that we’re being caught on tape. There weren’t security cameras there last time, and I’ll tell you why they put cameras in there now: because someone finally believes me that there is Satanic activity taking place inside that church. I swear to god I was there one night a long time ago and my friend Justin and I saw a whole pack of Satanists and we knew they were Satanists because they were BALD and SCARY. Just like the Bible says! (Right? No?) We left that night really, really, really quick and remember shouting at him, “I came here to see ghosts, not a fucking sacrifice, what the fuck Justin??” and he was trying to rationalize it by saying, “Maybe they’re just here to play Release?” But you know, it was 10 years ago so maybe I could have made up that dialogue.
She is so happy we reunited last February.
I wanted her to jump in the creek and pretend like she was washed away by the strong current. Seriously, that was no bubbling brook. It had been raining all day and the water was rushing over the rocks; it was loud and frightening. Which was why I wanted her in it. In the name of art, you know?
Anyway, I’m looking for volunteers to create some tableux vivants. Just for fun, you know? Keeps me off the drugs. But for some reason, every time I ask for volunteers, people get all apprehensive? Start saying they’re busy that day? When I haven’t even mentioned a date!
(Seriously, if you’re local and interested, hit me up. In photos, not sex. Clothed photos, not sexy photos. I”m not quite there yet.)
[Ed.Note: I’m going to continue posting photos that are too wide for my blog until Henry finally, after promising for a year, fixes the narrowness. I would do it myself, but last time I tried to do anything more hardcore than uploading a picture or adding to my blogroll, I deleted the entire thing.]