Monday, January 9, 2012

'Buddha' by Helen Vitoria

I meet him on the internet. Then I meet him in an artsy cafe in South Philadelphia. He brings his dog, Buddha, an Akita, who has been fed too much. Buddha loves this man. Buddha has secrets in his teeth. We sit next to a giant poster that reads: Once you go Black you never go back. He says he is a true modern day renaissance man. I do not know what that means and I do not think I care. He appeals to my creative side, tells me he’s a photographer, and pulls out his iPhone to show me his portfolio. I trace the outline of his cock through denim with my eyes. The photos are of mostly unattractive people smiling in faraway places. Places he says he’s been. Also, still life shots of large steel things, buildings, and sculptures, one of a well hung man peeing in a fountain. He wears diamond stud earrings and every sentence starts with I. He notices a tattoo on my wrist. He wants a portrait of Jimi Hendrix on his back, but has not found the right artist who will tattoo him perfectly. Says: I always wanted to photograph a woman with ink. I tell him I have 40 tattoos. Buddha licks gently at the sac that used to hold his balls.

[First published at]

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