Sounds like Howard Hughes’ mind on a steamy summer night in 1936, electrified with champaign-soaked bubbles & all of his neurons synapsing endlessly between light & dark, Las Vegas & solitude, being the predator & being the prey.
She describes herself thereby:
About Me. Oh, my favorite topic! … but wait, maybe it’s my worst topic? What am I supposed to say? I have the personality of an iceberg? I embrace the iceberg in me. From the right view, those monoliths are quite lovely. I’m taciturn, yes. But let’s face it, the only reason we like our pets is because they don’t talk back. Ok, I’m not Kate Winslet… I’m less “My Heart Will Go On”, and more… ok, something dead. Yes, I associate more with Wednesday Addams, than the chic on the Titanic. Although, most of the time I feel like Cousin Itt wearing cowboy boots. Expensive cowboy boots. I love my boots.
I am L. $hamPain — Born & bred in the sleazy shadows of bible belt Texas. Will I tell you what I know? Probably not. But you never know… in Texas, with a beat & a beer anything is possible. My boots might just walk you from the gunpowder-dusted Sam Houston monument to the open-legged fun of the best little whorehouse around.
Spend long enough down here, and you’ll figure out that for all the partying and barbecues and summer love songs, you really don’t want to get to know the girl next door.
Photographer: R. Anonymous