 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
||||||||||||
| Describing Beautiful Steve | ||||||||||||
| By Kenny Young | ||||||||||||
| The light hits him in a completely different way than it hits you or me. | ||||||||||||
| It's what sunlight on a man was always meant to be. | ||||||||||||
| Every photographer who has taken a picture of any southwestern landscape at dusk or dawn | ||||||||||||
| Has only been attempting to capture the perfect colors of natural light reflected of his perfect face. | ||||||||||||
| His blonde-brown-black-silver-red hair are the only fitting crown for his brown-black-blue-gray-green eyes, which are the only fitting adornment for his absolutely singular, often-imitated (with much rage and consternation by the greatest artists who ever threw down their brushes in fits of hopelessness), but never-duplicated face. | ||||||||||||
| These facts do no justice to the man in full blown vibrant life. He is the moment of nuclear fission. And those eyes I spoke so inadequately of? They inspire nothing less than a maddening urge to be completely naked, in his sight, scorched by the heat of ten billion suns. |
||||||||||||
| His is All-Fucking-American, Drunk on a Tailgate, Grade A U.S. Certified Sex. He's a Harley tattoo on the statue of David. Maleness Incarnate Roll Bars and Fighter Jets Crotch Rockets and Frat Parties. All rolled up into a single sweat-soaked panting body. |
||||||||||||
| He's also an epoch of need, and he wants to know why, and he doesn't understand and everything that touches him hurts him in some way, but the addition to his suffering in no way blemishes or diminishes him, in fact every scar he carries enhances him. He's lost and he's lovely, he's alone but he carries every man with him. This is a person men fight wars and die for. He's a black hole with the world on his event horizon... |
||||||||||||
| And he doesn't even know it. | ||||||||||||
| That's Beautiful Steve. | ||||||||||||