picture, picture!
by Michele Christopher

No it's not Mr Rogers. It's FTTW photo time! See, we do other things here. We have other hobbies. Sometimes we need to change up. So today, it's picture time. We know pictures inspire different feelings in everyone. Sometimes you look at them and wonder what the hell they were thinking, while other times you ask yourself if that person is you. We know this site is about punk rock but if you drink a lot, pics and punk kinda sound the same.

This photo was shot at Roscoe Cemetery, Roscoe NY, August 2005 by Michele. She managed to create a feeling that I love and I hope you love to. See if you can get some feeling out of it before you comment and read our takes on it. Think of this like a Rorschach test. But less ambiguous. And no butterflies. Because those things always end up to be butterflies. Or vaginas.

Here are our thoughts on this photo. As always, we write without seeing each other's first or comparing. Look it over and tell us what you get from it.


Life, death, aging, abandonment, intimacy. At one time these stones were upright and proud, markers that stood on a high hill, the words etched upon them telling the most basic story of someone’s life. Born. Died. Time went on, the stones became weathered and worn, the ground beneath them shifted and sunk. The people who used to leave flowers and polish the marble were long gone, maybe moved away or just got bored with the taking care of the dead and their artifacts.

As the earth moved, the headstones moved with it, sliding and leaning and shifting until nature brought them together. They form a sculpture of everything life has to offer; lovers leaning on each other, a parent hovering over a child, people at rest, in motion, moving and then settling down. To stand in a worn down part of this crooked cemetery and look at these grave sites and see lovers in an intimate moment is to see life where there is death. Born. Died. Born. -M

Sometimes things happen. Sometimes things go right and sometimes things go wrong. No matter what. You have to move on. You have to go on. Even in death. I'm not trying to be vulgar when I say that the tombstones have an eerie resemblance to a couple making love. It's just too deep. I mean really. This picture is kind of the like the circle of life. Life, death and sex. Having children has never been a big goal in my life, but with these two it makes me think. Someone is always going to follow you because of what you have done. Nothing will ever end except your life. Your lifetime is short. Have fun while you are here. Cause the game has started and you don't want to sit it out. Live your life to the fullest that your life will offer you. Cause like these two, it will end. You will be forgotten. You will be just a memory. Something that was forgotten long ago.

But, you always know that what they did deserves recognition.

I don't know if it's the missionary position of the stones, but just looking at reminds me that in the end, even the dead need to get laid. Well, that was a joke. What I meant was, what it reminds me of is the strive and determination of the human race. No matter how shitty everything is we will still keep going. And if that means getting some?

Well hell yeah.

I told you we get deep sometimes on FTTW. -T

You can see more of the "crooked cemetery" here.

Accused Grinning Like an Undertaker
Bags We Will Bury You
Flipper Life
Dag Nasty - Never Go Back


I'm not trying to be vulgar when I say that the tombstones have an eerie resemblance to a couple making love.

That's what I was thinking. But I was going to be vulgar.

No Pantera Cemetery Gates MP3? Come on.


I'm at work, I'm limited as to what I can put up there. But good suggestion, I'll stick it up there when I go home for lunch.


see. I agree with you cullen

noticed how I used "making love" instead of "fucking"?

I can do that

cause I'm the governor


wait. what is michele sticking up there at lunch?


heheheh wouldn't you like to know.

hey, at least you reminded me to put the pantera mp3 up.

but now i gotta go do something else.


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