ainsley grace @cowboykill3r - Tumblr Blog

my car is in the satellite image on google earth.

for the next few months,

theres a universal database of proof i was there.

i was there.

in a way i’m still there.

my car is still parked on the street.

i came home with lunch.

we sit down to eat.

#photography #heylomography #lomography #35mm film #analog #film #southern gothic #hometown #texas

september summer

The front porch of my house has been my favorite location on campus since returning back for senior year. Any time of day, there is so much movement. The lady across the street is out on the front porch at the moment, and I see her dogs staring at me from behind the glass front door. Noses pressed up against the glass, two fully-grown German shepherds are trading places in front of the window to monitor the situation. She’s running a yard sale, and her lawn is full of assorted goods, rugs, lamps, chairs, and some beautiful ceramic pieces. There’s a ceramic dish shaped like a flower with delft blue edges and beautiful gold trim that I can see from where I’m sitting, and I might take a look at it once I’ve worked up the confidence to introduce myself. She’s older than I am, with grey-blonde hair and glasses, sitting on a rocking chair reading a book and enjoying the last bit of summer sun. The second September rolled around, the temperature dipped into the forties as if to prove that autumn was on our doorstep. The sunshine was still warm and inviting through the window, but when you step outside trying to enjoy its rays, you’re hit with the brutal realization that summer is drawing to a close.

When the air feels like that, it reminds me of St. Louis. I moved there in middle school, and after living almost all my life in the South, I was unprepared for the variable seasons. Texas does not have a true fall; our trees were darker shades of green and were never allowed the time it took to create colorful displays as the days got shorter. The treeline would be painted in blazing shades of gold and red and orange, and all I could think about was how more aware of my breath I was, and the ends of my sweaters were never quite long enough to cover up the tips of my fingers met with cold air. I lived there for five years before moving back to Texas, but I never felt as if it was enough time to truly settle into feeling that way more than one or two months out of the year. Even now, the cold makes me feel restless.

It’s late afternoon by now, but it is still warm enough to sit here in the shade and breathe in the end-of-summer air. A neighborhood boy just got home from school and couldn’t be more than ten years old. He tossed his backpack down on the grass in his front yard and threw his head back, sunshine glowing against his blond hair. He is outside most afternoons, investigating the neighbors and running laps around the houses. He takes a break to go inside and grabs an orange to messily peel apart while sitting on the sidewalk. Face turned up against the sun, he discards the peel without a thought in the dirt of the garden box lining the edge of my porch. I don’t say anything. It reminds me of when we lived in Florida when I was just a bit younger than him. My brothers and I were little kids playing in the dirt, fingers covered in freshly peeled oranges. I didn't know my times tables. My dad was in remission. The housing crisis hadn’t quite hit yet. You could still hear my grandpa play his harmonica in the evenings, and the sun felt so thick and hot and sweet on your skin that it might just boil you down into syrup like it would an ice cream cone. It was a window of time where everything was warm and uncharted. The garden box circling our porch is falling apart and hasn’t been shown love in a long time. I’ve thought about going to Home Depot and buying some cold-hearty plants that could withstand the winters here. I used to garden with my dad in Florida, where the soil was rich, the air was thick with humidity, and everything grew, whether you meant for it or not. Except I graduate this year, and I’ll be moving out in May. What's the purpose of nurturing a garden you won’t be around to tend to?

#journaling #digital diary #writing #sensory #summer

LEATHER D*DDY

queer identity as represented within the iconic leather subculture most prominent in the 1980s. more 2 see, more 2 come, keep it tough, like it rough!