Raf gave me a Fujifilm INSTAX 210 Instant Photo Camera
I learned through trial and error that the flash on this camera is automatic and you can’t force it off. Good to know. It comes with a close-up lens/self-portrait mirror that you clamp onto the lens. It is not SLR, which takes some getting used to.
I’m looking forward to more playing!
When my North Dakotan friend and I got off the train we decided to take a cab into Greenwich Village. We got into the back of the taxi and gripped the seat as the driver tried to impress us with his erratic driving through Manhattan while asking us questions about where we were from. He turned his head to talk to us and in that moment I saw it coming. In the distance I saw the man crossing the street. He was wearing a red shirt and black jeans. He had brown hair and a mustache. He looked into the cab of the taxi the moment before impact. I will never forget that look. It was a look that was mirrored in my face, I am certain. As the cab driver turned back around the man was on the hood of the car, rolling up to meet the windshield. His body bounced off the windshield as the taxi driver screeched to a stop. He told us to stay in the car while he got out to check on the man he had just hit with his car. My friend and I sat in the back of the taxi in shock.
Somebody opened the door and offered to help us out. We looked at each other. “I don’t want to be in this car,” I said. “Neither do I,” replied my friend. So we accepted the offer. We ended up on the sidewalk where a crowd had gathered. The man was lying on the ground, not moving. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead. I heard sirens from an ambulance trying to make its way through the busy city streets. Somebody next to me said, “I’ve lived here all of my life and I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Somehow that gave me a bit of comfort. Even New Yorkers, who have “seen it all” were shocked by somebody getting hit by a car.
The cab driver found us and asked us why we got out of the car and who helped us out. We didn’t see the person who helped us. He left the scene. Because he stole all the cabbie’s money.
18 years later I would remember that look of horror on that man’s face as I watched the grill of a car drive into me and I bounced off the windshield of a Oldsmobile.
Bought some alligator jerky at this weird little jerky stand on the Sunset Highway on Monday. I finally got the courage to try it last night. I took one bite and couldn’t do it. The thought of eating alligator jerky fucking freaks me out for some reason.
I don’t remember the drive to Spokane at all.
I remember bits and and pieces of the week between Doug’s death and funeral.
I remember being in shock and walking around in a foggy daze.
I remember a grandmother asking about my Thanksgiving at story-time. I didn’t know how to answer. She said hers was, “interesting.” I agreed. Mine was too. Those were all the details I could muster.
I remember being very focused on cutting up nametages for story-time.
I remember leaving early to go home and my coworker chastising me about not knowing where I had been, (I was in my office cutting nametags).
I remember running around town figuring out the food for the funeral.
I remember my mom wanting to serve potato salad (of all things).
I remember going to see New Moon, the latest Twilight installment, and having a good, much needed, laugh.
But I don’t remember the 6 hour drive to Spokane the day before the funeral.
Wait. Yes I do. The one thing I remember about that drive were the frozen waterfalls all along the Gorge. All of them frozen. Even Multnomah Falls.
