“Normally, you need a specific receipt, but I’m going to let you do this,” he said to the cute backpacker girl.
I fill out my form and wait. Three packages for domestic stops and one aimed at the Netherlands. The clerk puts on his sunglasses and hunkers down behind his terminal, “Loco” tattooed across the knuckles of his left hand. “Is this a gift or merchandise?” It all makes sense in here. Just another day behind the Orange Curtain. Sun, blinding white sun by 9AM, cemented and in total control until roughly 6PM when the color begins to creep back in. I need things. Things I don’t have. Bills come in, they are paid. Lists are made, hotels are booked, flights too. While I’m on the site I check flights to Cabo. I’ve never been, but it’s two hours away for less than $200. That’s a weekend. I hear horror stories, but I hear them about Detroit too and I love Detroit. Cabo is warmer. And they have better guac. “Customer service, this is Gwen.” “Our water bill is twice as much as it’s ever been, what’s going on?” This is where things tend to go sideways. Audio and video problems all day. It’s a Monday. To compensate with something positive I shoot the Impossible Roid. My art space. Cluttered and tight. Neglected even. Make something everyday. Yesterday it was a water color so bad it went straight in the trash after I ripped it into a dozen pieces. I should burned it and then lashed myself with barbed chains. I edit my film from Chaco. Four partial rolls in three days. I edit 90 photographs. Some are repeats, but with slight variations and they are of couples who might like them both. Friends. I FTP them to the printer. I don’t email shit like this, I print it. Of course mailing means I go back to see “Loco” again. He seems cool.