Thursday, August 27, 2009

i've always been crazy about eating in diners late at night.

i love being one of two people in our age groupsitting in sticky booths in greasy
dives in the middle of nowherestaring out through half fogged windows watching
cars pass on the interstate. pushing a small pile spilled sugar around with my fingertip as
the boy across from me sips coffee from the chipped mug as the waitress with the
mustache talks about how she's "really going to leave him this time" to an overweight cook.
the entire experience is just amazing. the orange, tungsten lightingthe smell of coffee
the sound of grease popping. there are always truckers. always. and they always smell
like cigarettes and they're always wearing dirty shirts and trucker hats and they haven't
had a chance to shave in a few days...but they talk sweet to the waitress and take their coffee black. we all know i have a strange affinity for street lights and empty parking lots and the
neon glow of the diner's sign reflected puddles in potholes peppered around the parking lots.
just really makes my heart skip a beat. being in the middle of nowhere, pouring into empty
car seats at 3 a.m.catching a glance as the stars as we pull onto the interstate with the taste
of burnt toast and hot chocolate in my mouth.
it's always amazing.
always.

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I never question what to do, it tells me what to do. The photographs make themselves with my help. ~Ruth Bernhard
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