she come in my garden everyday and sit in front of me while I work on my sketchbook. she doesn’t want food, she just sit there looking at me. today I covered her in flower and we were both happy.
My dad credits this as his favorite photo of me.
When I was younger, I was very socially anxious. I hated crowds, hated attention, hated being up on stage. In preschool there was this little Halloween show that we put on, and man, I did not want to do that shit, let me tell you. All those parents watching me sing some stupid song? Nah, that ain’t me.
But I was forced to, and I was pissed about it. My dad was in the audience, taking pictures and enjoying the show. In that moment, I swear, my tiny four year old was pure rage and resentment. I felt the word “fuck” years before I knew what it was.
My dad pointed the camera at me, and I turned, and I looked. I gave him the look that summed up all the anger, all the absolute fury that was brewing inside me. He says that he had never before seen such a perfect depiction of total and complete hatred. In his four year old son.
To this day whenever I get pissed, he calls me “Buzz Lightyear”.
I felt the word “fuck” years before I knew what it was.
i tried but they wouldnt let me because I wasn’t mexican and also I can’t play any instruments