Archive for September, 2011
I had a new photo shoot with my friend Jake a few weeks ago. We met early on a Saturday morning and drove down one of the most industrial streets in Indianapolis, looking for places to shoot. We ended up in one of the creepier basements I’ve ever set foot in.
To see the rest of the new photos as well as the results of our previous shoots, check out Jake’s page on my site.
Here are 15 things about my childhood, most of which I bet even my closest friends haven’t heard.
1. My mother had scarlet fever when she was pregnant with me and her doctor advised that she abort me. Despite this, I still believe in a woman’s right to choose.
2. In fifth grade, I wanted to study martial arts, because I wanted to grow up to be like Farrah Fawcett’s character in Charlie’s Angels.
3. My first grade class was playing bingo once; the teacher gave us dried corn kernels to mark our numbers. I stuck my kernels in my ears. My mother had to come to school to take me to a doctor to have them removed, but one of them didn’t fall out of my ear until I was 19 years old.
4. My second grade teacher remains one of the meanest, most abrasive, passive-aggressive people I have ever met. How she ever made it through college without anyone noticing she wouldn’t do well working with children is beyond me.
5. My first crush on a boy was in 7th grade, and his name was Mike. He sat in the row behind me on the school bus and quoted Saturday Night Live lines.
6. If they stayed home for dinner on Saturday nights, my parents would eat steak. Every Saturday. I loathed steak, so my mother would make me Chef Boyardee ravioli. Today, I’d rather go without food than eat canned ravioli.
7. I was jealous that girls got to have long hair. But I didn’t want to be a girl. Even as a kid, the thought of vaginas unsettled me.
8. My family NEVER got undressed in front of each other, so it wasn’t until I was seven years old when I saw my first vagina in real-time. I was about the same age the first time I saw another boy’s penis. It was Dwayne’s (see below).
9. I was terrified of the thought of Bigfoot. Still am, kind of.
10. My cat’s name was Seymour, and I had a pet rat named, D.R.
11. My best friends were John and Natalie. The neighborhood bully was Billy. The fat kid was Rachel. The nice kid with the bad parents was Jack. The smart kid was Dwayne. The boy who delivered newspapers was Donnie. The cool older boy was Steve. The pretty girl was Tammy. The kid who’s mom was a whore was Amy.
12. The neighborhood also had pervert, Mr. MacGregor. He lived in the biggest house and was often arrested for exposing himself to women at the beach. When he drove down the street, all the neighborhood kids would stop what we were doing, scream his name and run to hide. What started with parents telling us to avoid him had morphed into a game. As an adult, I can’t imagine how horrible and embarrassing that must have been for him.
13. In third grade, while my teacher was reciting basic multiplication tables I would let my mind wander and think about self-awareness and existentialism. I guess math bored me from the beginning.
14. Toads remind me of my childhood. I like them.
15. I had a pinball machine, a big TV, a stereo with disco lights, and a big model train set in my room. I was the youngest, and spoiled. I’m sure this explains why sometimes, I can still act a little bratty.
I found this photo a few weeks ago on the website, Homotography, and I’ve been kind of infatuated with it ever since.
I love everything about it, how it seemingly blurs the distinction between photograph and painting, how it juxtaposes a fashion shot with a homoerotic artpiece. Sadly, the photographer’s website has been under construction since I discovered him; I wish I had a way to contact him because I would consider buying a print of this photo.
If you like it too, here are a few more shots by the same artist/photographer, also seen via Homotography.
All photos in this post copyright, Anthony Gayton.
I was watching CBS Sunday Morning last weekend and I saw this segment. It’s inspiring me.
There is one particular truck stop between Indianapolis and Chicago that Jay insists we stop at every trip we make. Outside, the truck stop has about 24 gas pumps, and one or two people begging for money, and a very loud loudspeaker announcing to each trucker when his shower is ready.
Inside, the truck stop has more racks of snack foods than I’ve ever seen in my life, and clothes with deer heads and weapons on them, and shot glasses, and books with names like, “Seven Things You’ll See if You Go to Hell.”
And there’s a diner.
On our last trip, we happened to be passing the truck stop around dinner time, and I insisted that we eat at the truck stop diner. Much to my surprise, Jay did not disapprove.
I had chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes — not the healthiest meal I’ve eaten in the last year — but what else should you eat in a truck stop? I forget what Jay had, but much to my surprise, they did have a couple vegetarian options.
The food was fine. I was hoping our waitress would be interesting enough to make a good American People subject, but she was lacking, somehow. She did disappear for a curiously long time (she looked like she may have needed to take a methamphetamine break). There weren’t as many truckers as I expected to see. There were, to my surprise, several curiously hot guys in there.
David posed for me a couple of weeks ago, in Chicago.
Here’s a photo that I’ve meant to post for some time now of a foggy morning on the Ohio River. I shot this photo a few weeks ago.
Jay watched the BBC miniseries, The Virgin Queen, when it was broadcast on Masterpiece Theater a few years ago. After sending me its trailer on YouTube several times, he finally convinced me to put the miniseries on our Netflix queue.
I’m a huge fan of Queen Elizabeth I; I think it’s difficult to think of many historic figures that so changed the world. I also love the Cate Blanchett movies about Elizabeth, those are definitely two of my favorite period pieces.
I have to admit though, the BBC version is better.
It feels more honeset and less like a production than the Blanchett movies. Anne-Marie Duff makes a great Elizabeth, and she is supported by an equally talented cast. The sets, cinematography, music, and costuming are all good. And you get to see a young Tom Hardy, when he looked like this . . .
. . . as opposed to this.
Side note: Jay would leave me for Tom Hardy — the young version or the buff version.
But back to The Virgin Queen, I hope the second disk is just as good. I’m looking forward to seeing this Elizabeth kick Spain’s ass.