Friday, July 24, 2009

The Tears of My Tracks

Tears as in rips, not the crying kind. I found out I had a way (OK, OK, my 10 yr old niece found this out and showed me) to take a 1.3 MB photo with the webcam. So I thought, hmnnn. Let's see what I can take photos of off of my face and arms. The head one might show an odd scar shaped like England, still there since I broke my arm in 1973, riding a bike in Kentucky. There's one of me pointing/pulling at my hand; back in the winter of 1983, some guy on angel dust pulled a knife on me on the A train (as they were then called), and like a fool, I slapped his hand, somehow smacking the damn knife itself. So much for depth perception. The guy did cut out, though. My first experience with idiots and meltdowns. I knew I was going to love being a writer. The cut was to the bone, I found out later, 26 years later, its hard to see even when I'm tanned. The other shots try to do my left arm justice, what the "good" scar and the "bad" scar loom like. Also, a nice perspective thing to show how might left arm really looks when I'm not bending it into normal fashion when I'm around people. My knuckles really don't hit the ground, no worries.