if you and i met today, and you surfed through my photos, you would find a woman:
who's pumpkin's face is melting ...
who is taking test shots of an orange nature variety with her new camera ...
and who seems pretty stoked about finding her hat ...
you would no longer find this photo of my former roommate's friend minor consumption and the beer bong of doom, despite the fact that it was favorited and commented upon by strangers. no, for this photo you'd have to look in the folder on my desktop, which hopefully eventually will become a folder on a backup hard drive. and then, likely a folder on a backup hard drive that i lost years ago.
i kept this one only because you can the tiny splashes of natty light sprinkling out of his puckered little face. and, a few years ago, i did enjoy the idea that a three-story beer bong was living on my deck. i never used it; sometimes i poured things into it.
i deleted about 20 photos of my former roommate sacked out on my former futon, each special in its own portraits of sleep apnea sufferer sort of way. actually i deleted almost every photo of my former roommate. i also deleted photos where i appear blue and bloated, like i'd just been found submerged in water with a taco john's bag tied around my throat. i deleted photos of anyone whose name i don't remember. i deleted a photo of an ashtray in a bathroom in mitchell, south dakota; martin zellar in about seven different poses while playing the state fair. and i erased things that i had a gazillion different versions of.
this photos less-flattering, yet nearly identical versions are gone for good. i kept this photo of my landlord, me, jcrew and futbol because i like what jcrew's arms are doing:
but i got rid of the rest of them because i don't like what i'm doing -- which is looking a little thick around the middle in glasses i don't like.
i kept some photos where i've never looked prettier:
and i kept photos of my favorite people, most of whom i don't see enough:
and i kept anything with a cheesy backstory. like, for instance, a first date-ish sort of event:
and i especially kept my favorite photo of fannie:
and this is why i love living digitally: you are only what is in your flickr account; on your blog; your favorite playlist; the numbers programmed into your speed dial. deleting is easy and if you delete it, it never happened.