I remember this cigarette, which appears to ooze with something unspeakable.
My memory of this photo from November 13, 2012, is precise. This cigarette and liquid spill sat in a payphone enclosure at Vernon Boulevard and 34th Avenue, across from Rainey Park. From that payphone eight years earlier I spoke with a reporter from St. Pete Times. I called her collect since, like most payphones, this one rejected incoming calls. The conversation led to more calls and e-mails, resulting in Random Brushed With Humanity, published in the July 20, 2004 edition of the paper.
It’s a fine article. Among the best I can remember. But I have no memory of saying that I gave up on the project when people started making specific connections. That does not even make sense given the trajectory of the site and my somewhat long-winded “Frequently Asked Question” essay explaining its existence.
Then again I have expressed ambivalence about the project, and the subject matter, many times over the years. She must have caught me on one of those days when I would rather have established myself as something other than a payphone guy.
I also moved here in 1990. Not 1980.
The above picture just kind of blobbed on to my screen. The digital hoarder is accustomed to unrepentant memories rising up in the silence of a photograph, or in the sound of a long-ago friend’s voice when a forgotten video is unexpectedly played back.