I’ve been to but one small town Rodeo in Athens, TN with my dad and aunt shortly after graduating high school. The previous year, I had a cowboy admirer who gave me a dozen pink long stem roses with an invite to a large rodeo. He had rolled up to my parent’s suburban chateau in his beat up truck, horse trailer still attached to make the delivery. I captured his attention in Chemistry class, where he sat behind me and we were lab partners with a third member. September 11, 2001 occurred and showing American pride the next day in cowboy hats were he, I and two other gentlemen. Sadly enough he was the only daily cowboy in my graduating class. This particular cowboy was the real deal and worked hard. I drove an old beat up truck myself, a 1976 GMC three quarter ton pickup. I think Cowboy spotted it parked across the street from my job at In-N-Out where he quasi-stalked me and followed me home to make the offer for a rodeo date. Some words about rolling in the hay may have spilled, and I was scared off. Looking back, I find it ridiculous that I turned him down. Such a fun and unique offer and a thought-through plan. He lent me his jacket one cold day at school and seemed a real gentleman, hay rolling fantasies aside. Just as well though, as I am pretty sure he fathered a child with another gal shortly thereafter. Too bad that fantasy did not include rubber. Apologies to the faint of heart, these photos are rather lame and felt compelled to use storytelling to make up for it. Desire is much more than what the eye sees, so much as what it imagines which words may provoke even more than images.

To finish my thoughts, and for the record, I would genuinely like to attend another rodeo one day, perhaps a larger scale. Rolling in the hay would have more appeal if I weren’t allergic to grass. Another event I would like to one day enjoy is a barn dance, yee-haw!

Speakeasy Photos

MUAH: Danyelle “The Hair Maverick” Johnson

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