Though I never took an interest in dolls, I coaxed many a friend of Little Brother to my room for dress-up. One boy in particular would play along musingly, strutting his stuff down an imaginary walkway while I laughed until it hurt… He’d sit on my floor, wide-eyed, asking me to sing while he played with a little cassette recorder.
From years-old tape recording:
One for the PCC.
Ryan Throne grew into a massive jock with a monster truck. One of my cheerleading girlfriends had thrown the line after seeing the JV lineup, “Shit, I’d sit on his throne.” When I saw him again, he admitted being rather elated I’d never photographed him in women’s clothing and makeup in the event that the exposure could have changed the fate of his class’ star quarterback.
“I didn’t know Chris had a sister and I had to have been over there a bunch of times. But then I heard you singing,” he recapped for me, a much deeper voice.
Daniel stopped by today. He stayed long enough to take over at the keyboard and harrass several instant message buddies while I sat on the floor’s mattress dressing him in hair clippies and random strokes of blush and body glitter.
“What the fuck are you – GET AWAY FROM ME (waving away butterfly clips). What’s this guy look like? Hang on, I’ll find out…”
Here he is returning a favor for me, to someone’s disgust and immediate termination of direct user connection.
No, he doesn’t rock the mask as hard as I.
But he’s a keeper.
July 26th update.. I get him to hold still long enough to do fun things.