delta dregs and detritus

the last time i was at a fair was in syracuse, new york. upstate white trash is such a different beast than down south white trash. it centers much more around cheap reproduction swords, faux hippie wall hangings and bad thrash metal and less around nascar, high school football and milwaukee's best. not that there isn't an element of that, of course. maybe it's because i grew up around the latter, but i never could quite sit right with upstate wt. whenever we'd go on road trips, i'd get all misty and nostalgic as soon as we'd see a love's in virginia full of that neutral toned cowboy plaid.

of course, now that i'm back in the south, i've fallen back in to hating them all. but i am happy not to be in texas anymore at least, nobody should be privy to that kind of mess.

when we walked through the corridor at the delta fair with the requisite paraphernalia pushers (leather living room sets next to plastic jewelry and vitamin cleanses) and out onto the midway with all the food booths and games, i was overwhelmed with this warm sense of that palpable excitement that wafts off of every 17 year old girl who's nervous about the possibility of giving her very first blow job behind the porta-potties. it's a heady mind-fuck to realize that these girls are tasting the turned out freedom of the religiously repressed with one night away from their dogmas and their parents. there's no naughtiness like the absolute hooch of a teenager all tipsy off cheap beer that some college boy buys her who's letting go of herself and saying 'i ain't never goin' to end up like my mamma'. they look terrified, doe eyed and delicious. so, i put whiskey in my flask and i forgave them their transgressions against my own personal set of values for this one night of taudry wantonness.

i had also meant to take pictures, but i forgot to charge my battery (as apparently always happens to everyone with intentions of photographing anything ever). but i did manage to squeeze off this gem before it went kaput.

From Panacea

for those of you who don't know, amanda got all dilated to see the avett brother's live, there was jumping up and down and excercising her evolutionary advantage by reaching over the heads of munchkins to touch the hands of musicians.

oh, and i had a ritualistic corn dog, or as the locally preferred brand has deemed them- pronto pups (ewwww...), which i don't normally do. but my beautiful husband had to work last night til 11 pm, and corn dog havin' is usually his own little celebration of trash and neon fair-time, so i felt obligated to the universe in some way to carry on this little family tradition of ours in his stead. it was less than satisfying, but also everything one might imagine eating a corn dog at a fair to be like.

later in the evening, all the whiskey conspired to weigh me down like lead and i fantasized about calling d to say that i was going to spend the night on amanda's couch because i felt too happy and sleepy to move, much less hold up my end of whatever delightful conversation was happening around me. but when my foster mother, miss lindsey turner, said she would drive me home, i found myself too pliable to refuse. thanks, lt, for delivering me to my doorstep and being such fun to hang out with, besides.