HiFi Art Studio - Vena Paylo

Saturday, August 29, 2015

Hero Worship: Ernestly I Do

I doubt anyone else can so effortlessly pull off being passed out, next to a kid, with a cocktail in one hand and a gun in the other, while fishing in a clownish straw hat.

But, if your name is Ernest Hemingway, it's just another Tuesday.

Photo:  vintageeveryday.wordpress.com/category/author/

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Tattle Tale: Half Full


The door opened and scuzzy afternoon light leaked in, a guy in an oversized white oxford shirt and cheap pressed black pants walked in, sat down, took his glasses off and and rubbed his face like it was covered in ants.  I watched him out of the corner of my eye, gripped my drink and took a swig.  Brothers in bar blues, but don't make eye contact, silent camaraderie honored by anonymity, it's the bar brotherhood code.

Tired of rehashing my own sorrows I targeted the new guy -what had happened to him since this morning, when he pulled up those pants and tried to convince himself that he was going to do better today?  Did he wake up alone, again?  Tell himself he had to do better and then he'd find a mate?  Tell himself he had to sell more and then he'd get a promotion?  Tell himself he had to get that promotion so his dad would be proud of him?  Then reality two-fisted his bravado?  Hours of phone calls and rejection beat him to a pulp and this dive was his only salvation?

I took another swig, I know brother, the morning is cruel in its optimism.

Tattle Tale by Vena Paylo
Photo taken by Lan Lanister, retouched by Vena Paylo

Wednesday, August 19, 2015

Tattle Tale: Careful What You Wish For

She stood next to him, sucking in the sea air, hoping it would sober her up.  What the hell was she doing here?

The people around her were laughing too loudly and the stench of cheap fried food wrapped itself around her face like a chloroform drenched towel.

She groped inside her purse for her lighter.  She didn't even have a cigarette, she just gripped the lighter like it was a rope and she was drifting out with the Atlantic current.  What the hell was she doing here?

She squinted in the dimming sunlight and searched the crowd for someone to notice her anguish and rescue her.  No one returned her gaze.

She gripped tighter, but the rope was slipping out of her hand. 

Tattle Tale by Vena Paylo
Photo design by Vena Paylo

Saturday, August 8, 2015

Cocktail: Adulthood

That time when you were at a party, opened the cooler and it was full of champagne bottles instead of beer bottles... and it was in that moment you realized that you and all your friends are no longer college kids.

Friday, July 24, 2015

Tiki: Dude

The Dude abides #ThreeDotsAndADash

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Tattle Tale: Come to This

Staring ahead, in your car, in traffic next to all the rush hour drones and you wonder if you're one of them.  Is the daily routine turning you into a machine?  A bead of sweat licks the side of your cheek. The AC spits tepid air in your face.  The sun burns your arm through the glass.  There's a guy on the sidewalk dressed as a giant sausage pointing a foam finger at you.  My God, has my life come to this?

Thirty minutes later you find yourself on a lounge chair at a friend's pool, they hand you a glass of wine and ask you about your day.  You gulp your wine like a bawdy pirate and laugh and say, "My God, I'm so happy my life has come to this!"

Tattle Tale by Vena Paylo
Photo by Vena Paylo

Sunday, June 21, 2015

Cocktail: Amber Ambitions

Sundays, by nature, are a blurry whirl of last minute imbibing before Monday shoves its way in your path. Your drink should assist in the rebellion.