I have enormous respect for Krissie for putting up those Photo Booth photos every day. I think it’s a great idea, but Photo Booth makes most people look like Night of the Living Dead, so I have said, “No, thanks.” But tonight, still coming back from bad stuff, I thought, “If she can do it, I can do it.” (Krissie gets me in a lot of trouble that way.) It’s ten o’clock, I have no make-up on and I haven’t combed my hair, just tied it in a knot on my neck to get it out of the way while I type, but it’s not like I’m ever not tired, made-up, or coifed, so what the hell. And I’m behind about forty pictures so it’s time I got started.
I took the first one and looked at it and thought, “Dear God, am I that depressed?”
Well, yes. The photo does not lie. While I can argue that I don’t look like this (I’d lose but I could argue it), I can’t argue that that’s where I am right now. So I tried again. “Go for chipper,” I told myself. And got this:
So chipper is not an option. Well, I knew that. Lani got all the chipper in Squalor on the River, I’m holding down biting and sardonic. Maybe if I got my chin off my hand which I now realize is how I read the computer screen. I tried that and got a series of pictures in which I looked exactly like my mom or my dad. How is it as we get older and become more ourselves that we begin to look more and more like them? Never mind, try again. Pull your hair out of that knot. Maybe if you don’t look so much like a prison warden . . .
Great. Now I look like the slut of the retirement home. Which is probably what I’d be, come to think of it. I’m beginning to think that Photobooth may be a window into the soul. You sure as hell can’t hide anything from it. Oh, wait, sure you can. You can use Effects.
Here’s the thing about Effects: They make you somebody else. While you’re fruiting around with them–and they are, for the most part, completely useless–you forget you’re taking your picture because it distorts your face so much you could be somebody else:
I particularly like the way all the effects wipe away wrinkles. Kind of pares you down you to your essense. At least photo below does (I’m pretty sure this is what everybody who’s ever annoyed me has seen coming at them):
But the effects are good fantasy, too. Like a black and white head shot from when I was a 30s movie star. I would have gotten that His Girl Friday role if Roz Russell hadn’t been so much younger than me. And combed her hair.
The wiggiest one turned out to be the clouds background. I actually smiled goofing around with that one:
But my fave effect is the pencil. Makes me look like a truck draft: It can be published if I get hit by a truck. Although you can really see that droopy eye fron that car accident when I was eighteen. Maybe tomorrow I’ll put on some make-up and try again. Krissie, are we allowed to use make-up?
I know I’m not caught up with Krissie yet, but I am cheered up. Photo Booth Therapy: Who knew? Now all I have to do is find an Effects program for my life, and everything will be just FINE.