1982- photographer Nancy Rice

How to model as if your life depends on it. Take one, broken hearted young woman working at a makeup counter, applying makeup hourly. Spending her break in the army surplus store shopping for Saturday night's outfit on Saturday afternoon.
Add another layer of make up and no customers. Mix her with the photographer working next door.
Step onto set.
Adjust yourself. Look into the camera as if you're looking your last lover in the eye with every ounce of  depth that a wounded 23  year old can muster. Attempting to hurt him back so hard  his heart breaks.
Look into the camera as if you are looking into his soul through the lens. Make your brain believe you are the most the most beautiful, desirable woman in the world. One that he will never get a chance with again. Make these images into posters and plaster them in every dressing room in the area advertising your services as a makeup artist. he's a musician- every club he plays he sees you in the dressing room.

Yup, he married the other girl but came back to visit me every year for ten years before his wife took him to Paris. Bad, bad Jo. Wonder what he's doing now...

he shouldn't have told me i couldn't love him because he'd hurt me. it simply wasn't true.

In reality  he went away because i asked him to. my girlfriend at the time was angered when he called me at 1.30 in the morning. he didn't know i was in a relationship...later he moved to Paris and no one's seen him since.

 

 

Tu est la Jean? Toujours...

You
pulled
in

off
the road

To find
me
in my
restaurant

I
fed
you
your
dinner

Later

we'd find our way
to this
hotel

Where you
would
go to sleep
while

I watched
music tv
and
you

until
you woke
at dawn

to
leave
again

Now
it's neon
glows
to taunt me
every evening
at twilight

Emanating
from
across
the
tracks

When I
draw
the blinds

nightly
in
my mother's
house

It's
time
for you
to
return.

Written April 27 2005 for the blog Kiss and Tell© by josie soho™ edited 12 30 07