La Nuit Blanche

dear daddy zeno,

i am in a pissy mood.

because,

(inhale-

one thing that sucks being the one with the big camera on a personal non-work-related night out is that you never get to have photos of yourself, but don’t get me wrong, occasionally, i actually love taking pictures, especially of my friends, when the setting is right, and the mood is right, and the lighting is right, and the angle is right, and they’re not smiling into the camera, and they don’t blink when i take the shot, but then everyone seems to magically forget to take out even their digital point-and-shoots when i happen to be there, that i know they all have in their bags, and all of a sudden, i am no longer a human being, or a beautiful woman, or even a friend they are supposedly sharing memories with, but just reduced to being a big black bulging

that is there to document their lives of which i am mysteriously no longer a part, and i hate it when people give me the bullshit, “oh, but you are so very special, you were the one taking the picture, you were there, too, don’t worry,” but, screw that, because i want a pretty picture of myself, too, dammit, and something else that makes me mad is when people point out things they think i should photograph, for instance, when they poke me in the ribs and sigh, “oooooh, look at so-and-so, what a cute dress, what cute hair, she’s so cute…. you should take a picture of that, oh i wish you had brought your camera today, why didn’t you?”, and i want to scream, hello??, what about my cute dress, and my cute hair, what about me, i want a picture of my own cute self, but ofcourse, no one could care less about the photographer-friend, so i end up taking a picture of myself in the bathroom mirror, to include in the album of memories, you know, because i want to be remembered as having been part of things too, and i, too, want to remember what i looked like when i was young and sexy and having fun with loved ones, but ofcourse, a big black camera is covering half my face, and by the time i get that camera away from my eye and someone finally does take pity on me, or perhaps, is actually inspired to take my snapshot, i’ll be old and wrinkled and depressing to look at myself, anyway.

-exhale)

next time, i am leaving the frigging camera at home.

(but ofcourse i won’t).