We picked up some food from a concession. I thought it was smoky. But turns out every concession had screen-netting surrounding it. So you couldn't riot. Jump over, reach over and steal the food and the money. Then we sat on a concrete wall surrounding the one barely surviving bush that passed for landscaping. And as we ate, I took a good look at the crowd. And it was like nothing I'd ever seen. The girls. They were wearing the fashion of the day. Halter tops. But they had beer bellies hanging over their jeans. They weren't even embarrassed. It was like all those obesity reports in the news had finally come to roost. Like everybody had a bad body and gotten used to it. And if they weren't overweight, they were scrawny with lined faces looking like their lives had been painful. Raising three kids on minimum wage. The guys. Well, I didn't look them in the eye. Maybe for fear they'd find me looking at their girlfriends, figuring I was checking them out, and beat the shit out of me.
Full blog entry here. I had to drive up to north Georgia for a shoot the other day, just outside of where Harold Finster used to live, Summerville, GA. Lemme tell you, it was shocking the poverty and trash I saw all around. Seemed like the meth had just beaten down the whole community right into an early grave.