sandandwater

I posted this once before, but here I am as a baby.



A toddler.



A teenager.

( and now for something a little bit different... )

Posted some three or four months into Pippa's return to Venice.

[Filtered to Rory, Cait, Tadhg, Zippy, Aryn, Smecker, Bobby Barnes]

My friend Marcello, he’s someone I’ve known for a long while and we lost touch when I left Venice the first time. We’ve since reconnected and it’s as if we picked up right where we left off. Old jokes are still funny; we enjoy each other’s company as much now as we did back then…we’re slowly catching up on the details of each other’s lives. It’s…nice, actually.

He’s a photographer. A very gifted photographer. He sees the world through a camera lens, sees light and color, contrast and depth…thinks in macro and micro. He always amazes me with the way he can turn the ordinary into something extraordinary. I’ve been letting him photograph me lately. In the evenings when natural light is horrible and I’m dead tired from working with Alessandro all day, after I’ve had one glass of wine too many in an attempt to relax and unwind. After we’ve laughed too much, cried too little and probably not eaten enough to call it dinner.

Marcello is great at getting me to step outside my comfort zone. Convincing me that I want to do things I would never consider acceptable. He has a knack for getting me to trust him, his vision, the art. He’s also very, very skilled at reassuring me, giving me back the confidence I’d lost. He has a way of knowing what I need to hear, how I need to feel. He can make me feel beautiful.

My scars aren’t things to be covered up. My hand isn’t something to hide. Stretch marks, burns, freckles, moles…my big, ugly feet—he loves them all. Proof of life, that’s what he called them the other day. Points of interest uniquely my own. I didn’t really believe him at the time and I think it shows in some of the shots, the look on my face at times—I’m only humoring him. But others…if I step outside myself and look at them objectively, as pieces of art, the way he intends them to be seen and not as if I am looking at myself in the mirror—I can almost see what he means. I understand what he wants from me. And I can see that I’ve given it to him.

I can be beautiful. I don’t have to hide. I don’t need to be ashamed.

There is truth in nakedness, an honesty there. Vulnerability. Strength.


( Photographs, not dial-up friendly and by American standards one is likely deemed not safe for work )



You might think I’m being disingenuous here, keeping this filtered to the handful of people I am sharing these with, but I’m not. I trust you. I know you. I’m comfortable enough with you seeing these images and knowing you aren’t going to look at them as anything other than what they are. One man’s art.

Besides, can any of you just imagine if James Potter saw a semi-nude portrait of me? I’m sure no one wants to listen to that little beast share his thoughts and perversions on the fact that Pippa Kerr has breasts.

Then I can start playing with holiday decorations:



He's my sad little reindeer...or perhaps mildly annoyed with me reindeer. Either way, isn't he adorable?

Alright, so the antlers and the nose were for Mr. Beaker and I decided to see if I could persuade Ro to wear them instead. Cait, I'm going to assume that this means yes, we could have probably convinced him to wear the other things too...though he may not have allowed me to spend any more time with you unsupervised.

This is Mike, owner of Last Call. And well, me. Yes, it is currently quite cold outside but Mike will wear shorts unless there is snow on the ground and he just turns the thermostat up to compensate. In other words, during the day, Last Call is roughly the same temperature as one of my furnaces. I keep this in mind when stopping by there for things.

I was there to take care of some paperwork and talk about being put back on the schedule a few nights a week. Mike was happy to see me, less happy with Rory. Well, no. Not true. He's thrilled for the band of course, he just hates that he no longer has the best band in NYC as a regular gig for his bar. I guess last Wednesday was absolutely dismal in terms of both the door take and drink sales.

But! This has caused me endless amusement:



Mike finally got Last Call in the NYC Safe Sex program (there is only one other bar on Staten that participates) and they installed the free condom dispenser in the oddest place. Right over a trash can. The trash will be moving, but in the meantime...



I decorated it. He fired me. I was hired back five minutes later.



And later, Mike tried to bribe us with giant beer. (You can tell it's later because I have a sweater on) See, those are our cell phones next to the glasses to demonstrate how large those suckers are. And no, customers cannot order those behemoths, they are gag glasses that Mike used because he loves me and Ro. The bribe did not work, maybe because I stole Ro's Guinness and left him with the Miller's. Mmm, well we are going to the Halloween party in costume, so I suppose it did work.