I didn’t know where I was. It was sunset when we left Charlotte, the plane stuffed full. On a three person row I was by the window, at the very back of the plane; next to me, a woman with her son, the two of them joyfully doing a crossword puzzle together. I like being in the very back because if I have to go to the bathroom it’s less complicated.
Polaroid SX-70, somewhere over America (2023)
The route was to Philadelphia, where I hoped to see Independence Hall, make a photo of the Rocky statue, wander up the Jersey shore, play pinball on the Asbury boardwalk. That was the list I had made in my head, and what happened in between was up to providence. I could not add thrill as an icy wave filled my nose with saltwater, or drink a chocolate milkshake in a bright-red rented Kia while listening to the Band, or hear a man put down Madam Marie to his girlfriend because she wouldn’t talk to him about his lottery numbers because I didn’t know these were real things that could happen.
The sun was going down.
Polaroid SX-70, a little bit later (2023)
Maybe we were over Mt. Airy, or Galax, could be Chantilly or Glen Burnie. I will never know. My eyes throbbed from watching the ember-glow spread over the horizon. We were alive in a metal shell hurtling through the air. Now the family next to me was doing Sudoku. “Half hours on earth, what are they worth,” David Berman sang in my head. Quite a bit, I thought, more than anything.
Polaroid SX-70, as the sun faded (2023)
I slid the photos into the metal tin to let them rest. I wanted to risk a glimpse to see if the purples and oranges made it down onto the Polaroid, but didn’t want to jinx it. I would look tomorrow, or maybe on the side of the road somewhere at an ice cream stand. We would find out.
“EVENING ALL DAY LONG” is this week’s installment of GORJUS, an occasional dispatch devoted to art and life in the South, preserved as best I can with instant film. The title is lifted from a lyric in “Trains Across the Sea,” by the Silver Jews.
If you liked what you saw and read, if you maybe felt a twang in your belly while you looked it over, then I am proud of it, and I reckon we would be friends. Consider sending this letter to a pal who is like us. I’m gorjusjxn on Instagram, and you can see more Polaroids at McCartyPolaroids.
I love those shots. And it gave me anxiety. Not because of the flying but just because of how close everything is in a plane. The older I get the more I definitely love solo travel. Every time I read your posts it make me want to get a polaroid.
Doggone i guess such lovely things need to be short like that sometimes. Beautiful. Heard Vonnegut somehow in this.