junecleavage

(*edited to add an inscription written to me in a copy of his book - of course - Fast Times etc and so forth* oh - and the pics I found of the weekend we became friends in 1982)


I have so many things to say, and yet, no energy to write them out properly.
But I will say this...my husband points out to me that Cameron Crowe is interviewed about what movie he would do a sequel to and he responds "Say Anything." This made me physically nauseous and I didn't really have time to process how I felt about it as I was leaving for work at the time. Even if he was being facetious. Which most certainly, being Cameron, he was. There is really no way to describe or explain what is is or was like to have Cameron do what he did with my life when I was such a young girl. But what I can share with you are the photos from the year he called me (on a pay phone in a fucking boarding house in Ocean City, NJ - living on my own for the summer - every summer - coz that's how I rolled at at 15 mofos) to tell me that he had just finished the script he had written and he based this character on me, and did I care that he didn't change my name, or the names of those affiliated with me, and could he interview Joe to make his character more authentic and how did I feel about all of this, oh and could my friend Kori take more pictures of us because he wanted the characters to feel real? There really is no way to describe what that does to a young girl when she isn't really thinking about how many people know how much of it is true and who she is in her small little town. And granted, a shitload of people don't know and couldn't care less about me or who I am in relation to Cameron Crowe. But Cameron never writes off the cuff. Everything he does is studied and shadowed and stolen. From Spicoli to Maguire. I know this man. Trust. So I am sharing with you the pictures from that summer in particular. Lucky devils. I went through a myriad of identities - so all you punk diehards - hear THIS - floating between rebelling with drug taking hippies and rebelling drug taking punks in truth was not all that different (and if you look at the crap I insisted upon adorning my walls with they are a crazy collage of punk and hippie mixed) so back the fuck off because I was an enigma goddammit and I liked to float. These are the first from the mother's basement photo catalog to grace y'all but they will certainly not be the last nor in the oncoming onslaught in any chronological order whatsoever. I think it will be fairly easy to figure out which one I was. (Incidentally, the pretty Greek girl in the pics with me? Her father is the Zig Zag man - like on the rolling papers - yeah - that is him they drew)

Oh yeah...the date is Summer 1985.