Right across the street from this building is a Krispie Kreme doughnut shop. In the doughnut shop is an old man gorging himself on the sugary delight, fueling himself with disdain for two screaming girls who have no respect for traffic or quiet doughnut shops. I vividly recollect driving down this road with Mary. We unhooked our jaws, threw our heads back, and let forth the most ungodly yell to release the sublime excitement and giddiness this building inspired. I’d paused long enough to swerve into the nearest parking lot (KK) and laughed openly at the old man who sat at the window, staring and hating us. He doesn’t know better.
This is not a building where people went to get their film developed a million years ago. It’s not a canvas for ATL thugs to paint their tags. This is the image of a building that is an omen. This is all the evidence I have of standing in the cold wind, giggling about bad driving, and waiting for creepy men to remove their bodies from my shot. You see, when you’re on the road and praying to God every minute that the thing you want to happen, will happen, sometimes he smiles at you.
This building encapsulates everything that we love. Film. History. A cavalier attitude. It stands and says “Fuck you world; you want to move on. You think I’m obsolete and that film is dead. You want to knock me down and open a McDonalds. You want to spray paint on me, and staple ads to my door. That’s fine. Do what you want. But I’m going to fucking sit on this corner with this fucking pay phone (because I don’t need an iphone to call my mama) and defy you.”