week of the polaroid

above: a few of my contributions to the beautiful pool that is/was spring 'roid week 2016. tenth anniversary of the flickr group! tenth! so, I'm not going to get into a whole thing about time here but, time. is a crazy thing.

should you need to see more, all my polaroids from last week are here, my favorites from the week (from fellow instant photogs) are here and the whole pool of instant goodness is here. long live 'roid week, y'all. long live instant film.

april's sixty seconds

I will want to climb inside this little film and live, from time to time. I won't be able to, but I will want to.

here's hoping some wonderful weirdo somewhere will invent exactly this kind of portal.


p.s. more wonderful little films over at the sixty second photograph, a project I've been participating in since the beginning of the year)

p.p.s. major (and I mean MAJOR) bonus points if you can tell me which film the music is from.

prince forever

preteen saturday nights, 1999 on little white casio boomboxes. cheerleading routines that begin with dearly beloved, nervously performed underneath fluorescent lights during junior high basketball games. small town saturday night junior high dances, lavender sweaters with puffy sleeves and faded guess jeans. I would die 4 U and 13 year-olds who feel like they could dance forever, live forever. 

post-football game friday nights, beth's house. under the cherry moon on cassette tape, blackest eyeliner, frostiest lip gloss, phone calls from boys, multiple so many phone calls from boys. new position over and over, again and again and again.  anotherloverholenyohead screamed out car windows, 15 year-old girls who feel like they could sing forever, live forever. 

late monday night drives in old white datsuns through cincinnati streets with cute college boys. mix tapes with extended versions of prince songs, endless forever rarest of rare extended versions. college boys who play phantom keyboards on navy blue dashboards with one hand and drive with the other while you pretend to like clove cigarettes. cute college boys who turn into boyfriends who turn into husbands who end up as best friends. adore on repeat during early dating days, adore on repeat during newly wedded days, adore on repeat through all the in between days, adore on repeat for always. 19 year-olds, 21 year-olds who feel like they could love forever, totally, forever and ever.

sweaty tuesday nights at star bar, dj romeo cologne and the sounds of early prince, rushes of sweaty, happy people onto tiny dance floors, 27 year-olds who feel like they could probably dance forever, live forever. sweaty sunday afternoons at dancespace on sixth avenue, alexandra beller's class and the sounds of new-ish prince, rushes of sweaty, happy people across generous wooden floors, 33 year-olds who feel like they could probably dance forever, maybe live forever. or, at least until the end of the song.

rainy thursday night drives into the city with your best friend for purple rain tickets. when nothing else can be done. prince on the radio, the internet, in the newspapers, on your phone, in your texts, for all the wrong reasons. prince in the news when you wish he wasn't. starfish and coffee as loud as it will go, feet on the dash, fingers interlaced. 45 year-olds, 47 year-olds who wish prince could live forever, know that he can't. wish they could be young forever, know that they can't.

RIP sweet prince. singer of the soundtrack of my life. you will be so sorely, so terribly missed.

march's five

(one)

(two)

(three)

(four)

(five)
one: ezra. plus imagined wall of preteen brain circuitry. 

two: the yearly dying of the eggs. not pictured: the dying of the ends of their hair. 

three: popcorn, early stages. 

four: ava, bunny ears. killing me. 

five: easter sunday dinner. not pictured: a bucket of KFC but with homemade mashed potatoes on the side. we are not fancy. 

(five favorite frames from march, five favorite frames each month) (thanks for the inspiration, xanthe)

not one thing

hello internet, on this monday afternoon I present you drop-in-the-bucket evidence of a well-loved film--the now discontinued fuji FP 100C.

no matter what happens to the film, at least I have these. and others. and the last two packs sitting in the fridge. and doc's vaguely hopeful travelogue updates over at savepackfilm.net.

and, the experience of holding that beastly polaroid automatic 100 in my hands, the 250 too. of anne teaching me how to load it with film, how to shoot it. the 1, 2, 3 muscle memory pack film cameras require: press the shutter, click the lever, pull. and then the dance that follows: cross your fingers, hold and count. wait for the right moment then slowly peel that gooey, chemical magic apart for the big reveal. the photograph.

there's nothing like it, not one thing in the world like it.

popcorn

the way I see it, spring is a wednesday. a thursday. summer is friday and saturday. fall is a saturday night, an all-day sunday affair. and, winter. I think we all know what winter is. winter is a monday. a tuesday, maybe. on a good day.

what I'm trying to say is, we're in wednesday territory, folks, almost to thursday. I can feel friday coming, I can feel it in my bones. the trees have all exploded, like popcorn on the side of the highway, in grocery store parking lots, in my front yard. tiny petals like white paper confetti, every time the wind blows. I find it in my hair, in the crook of my sleeve, the bottoms of my feet.

and I miss the two trees back in portland that used to explode with pink blooms every year, I really do, but now I have the popcorn tree in my front yard. I can watch it out my front window just like I did with the two trees back in portland. I can point my polaroid camera at things, try to hold onto it as long as I can, as I am wont to do, but the blooms are gone in a second.  it's the confetti it leaves behind on our driveway, though. I walk over it on my way to check the mailbox at the end of  our drive and I am reminded.

friday. friday is almost here.