RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Thursday, July 19

PP: Part Twelve

I like the way old polished black cars have that weird shine when you take a picture of them. This is a sweet car, and sometimes I wish it became stylish to not customize anything and black quarterbacks and cornrowed point guards with arm socks and unintelligible cocaine rappers all just drove stocked out swank old cars like this. Also, an enjoyable for me aspect of some of these stupid Polaroids is it could've been forty years ago, except in this one there's that rusting late '80s Dodge van in the background to confuse you. Plus the picture's not all scratched up yet.

This scene was on the side of 33 heading into West Virginia, and I know I should've broke into the house and snooped around, it being obviously abandoned, because I bet there was some awesome stupid shit I could've took back to Richmond and made a killing selling to retro vintage stores. In fact, that'd be a good business, except if I ended up riding through country roads in West Virginia as a business, all I'd do is drink beer. And anyways, I have my own business - being a stupid housepainter - and I blew off that own job in central Virginia to go cruising around West Virginia one day to take Polaroids of dilapidated shit for no reason.

I am a fan of the Dodge trucks, and this was at a farm we camped at a month or so back with a bunch of other folks, a lot of whom annoyed the shit out of me, so I would wander off into the woods by myself and sleep in a tree while pretending to read Tu Fu. I'm mad homo like that sometimes. Anyways, this was the truck dude who owned the farm stuck all his trashbags in the back of, and when it was fulled up, he'd drive the truck to the roadside dumpsters down the road. I hope to one day reach a point in life where I have an old pick-up truck barely peeking out of a ragged shed owned solely to keep one type of thing in.

I really enjoy how this car looks like a zombie monster evil car from North Carolina during 1980s horror slasher flick heyday, but it got killed by sexy starlet who ended up being one of the hot daughters on Just The Ten Of Us. It looks, though, that it could be resurrected at any point, which afears me, since it's less than twenty minutes from my home. Although I guess if I have to die, being murdered by an inhumane monster car in tarheel blue highlighted by rust would be one of the better ways.

No comments: