September 6, 2019
FOREWORD: I began writing these posts a year ago and since then the style and tone have changed. You will also notice that my kid ages pretty quick. That’s cause, I’ve got a big archive of material that I’m going to start posting every week.
I moved to Vic West in 2014 and noticed this house immediately. At parties, I would trot it out when people asked what it was like to live on that side of the bridge. Do you see what I’m talking about? The Mustang’s paint-scheme matches the house.
I apologize for the terrible pictures. I was afraid the owner might yell at me. I rushed. And what if they had? Would I have told them, don’t worry, the pictures are for my blog. Would I have asked if it was a coincidence or something planned?
And would I have asked them my real question – don’t you feel embarrassed? Are you aware that people judge you? This choice or coincidence, whichever one it is, is in poor taste. Not cool at all. These questions obviously tell you more about me than anything else: I worry what people think, because I know how it can feel to be humiliated.
So who is the owner? I imagine I know the type: classic rock, cheap beer, a bit haggard: the sort of person who won’t last long in the new Vic West, the gentrified one. Certainly, the generation that are buying the now million-dollar homes will not drive 80’s 5.0 Litre Mustangs painted to match the trim. Or maybe they will, that being cool again.
As for the car, it rarely moves. The covered vehicle is a complete mystery. Perhaps, it’s for parts. A few years back, I wrote a short story about the owner of this house. If I ever get it published, I will include a link here.
I’ve told you, I always worry about confrontations. That I worry about people’s feelings. I try to protect people. I’d hate to ruin what had previously brought only pleasure and satisfaction. To make someone self-conscious of their odd joys. To hurt their feelings. This paralyzes me. I end up treating people like children. Until recently, I did not believe I could survive the world’s judgment (not again anyways). But, I changed, and even if I deluded myself into believing I can protect myself, I’d rather be ridiculed for my joys than live a life without.
That’s my baby. She waited patiently in the stroller while I snapped these pictures. I want to treat the world as I treat her, to cradle her joys and comfort her sorrows, to let her be. I’m sure one morning in a few years as she gets ready for school, she’ll decide on an outfit that I fear will get her teased. I won’t say a thing. And whatever happens, I’ll help her lead the life she wants even if that means getting hurt.
TECHNIAL NOTES:
These were the first pictures I ever developed myself. I definitely overdid it – applying haze filters and color adjustments – but one of the reasons for this journal is to develop this skill, and I’ve decided to leave them as they are as a record.
Camera: Olympus OM-D
Lens: Olympus 17mm f1.8
Affinity Photo
