photobooth friday

I'm calling him lenny because it feels right.

and I totally believe he got caught smoking behind the tool shed more times than he would care to admit. he didn't have anything to prove, really-- it was a habit born out of nervousness. I think he ate large green pickles everyday for lunch and was very careful not to let the juice stain his crisp white shirts. clothes were important to lenny. he knew what he liked, he knew cut and quality, had an eye for the kind of details most people missed. this was a special gift, he thought. not to be squandered or taken lightly. I believe he winked at shy girls on the bus who then returned home to write secret poems about his dreamy eyes in small diaries with brass locks. by the age of ten, he had developed an original catch phrase, a personal motto and a 7-year plan that included moving to a small one bedroom apartment just outside the city. he would not settle for a small closet, though. the apartment could be small but the closet must be spacious, he thought. and he dreamt daily of selling shiny convertibles to women with platinum blonde curls and spectator heels.

lenny didn't understand anyone who refused the services of a good tailor. and he didn't trust anyone who failed to put out a dish of candy corn at halloween. once he lived on his own, the first thing he was going to do was track down a skilled tailor. and you can bet that he would never, ever forget to put out a bowl of candy corn the last two weeks of october. you could put money on that, he thought.

moremoremore with the photobooth friday thing:

jesC
jek-a-go-go (and this one too, please)
the whole self (yes, and this one too)
nessie noodle
woof nanny
acumamakiki (and this one too)
velvet vox
leSophie

(and for an absolutely fantastic set of vintage found photobooth snapshots, check out imaginary relatives)

(extra special thanks to lovely miss brina for sending lenny my way, so much good is coming to you, sister-- so much good)