Power of Hats

Being the person in charge give one too much power. I took a girls Santa hat temporarily because she was misbehaving. The misbehaving had nothing to do with the hat so I was probably over stepping my bounds and I feel a bit guilty about the whole thing. At my other job working with a man with developmental delays who acts up in order to get attention you can take his hat until he promises to behave. This is perhaps more ethical but still doesn't feel right. Authority figures are just bullies. I wish I was brave enough to stand up even when my hat is taken, but alas I am not. That's why it works. Nobody really is we are all just people pleasers, and that probably helps make society work.

I have a vision of running through the streets knocking off hats of men from the 19th Century and doing this until I came to a beautiful man who didn't care that his hat was knocked off and just continued walking. I am not sure if this is the proper response. It certainly doesn't bode well for the man pocketbook. Also, he is letting me the hat criminal "get away with it". But what else can he do? Maybe I am just putting too much stock in being different. Maybe the every man is write.

I think this may be becoming psychotic ramblings so I will stop. 

Smoke and soap

There is a beautiful thing that happens when you smoking and blowing bubbles (I am not talking about when you are very attractive and you are preforming oral sex on a man name with a peculiar name, though prehaps there can be beauty in that as well.) Bubbles are transcendent. The most ordinary of magic. The very fact that the laws of physics allow them to exist makes existence seem all the less likely.

Smoke at least makes sense. You heat up something hot enough it turn into a gas, the gas cools off an condenses all be it in a more particulate than before. Perhaps that is magic too, but after you except temperature affects state and that temperature is really just a measurement of speed, you can sort of.  You happen to understand something that can look pretty. It's like knowing the part of a flower.

I am not sure if I understand how smoke works, but it doesn't seem magical to me. I am not sure I know how bubbles work, but they still do seem magical. I picture the lipid lay of a cell actually but I believe it is generally the same idea. Soap is made up of these bipolar particles. You can picture a cross section of them  like tadpoles in two layer (there is water in the mixture too but I am not really picturing those particles right now.). The tadpoles are all lined up in two lines ready to swim away from one another, only that never really happens. If I can buy a sheet of these things as I suppose I can (I feel I am better at imaging billiard ball like atoms better. I haven't played much pool but I have never played with tadpoles) imagine that a volume of air can blow on them like a sheet in the wind. Eventually the wind blows hard enough that the sheet separates and for the same reason the sheet existed in the first place they form a sphere. Or at least something a mathematically naive person such as myself would call a sphere. I am not sure why they pop, it is probably something to do with wind or air pressure or gravity or something I am not thinking of. Maybe they pop because they are just too beautiful for this world and popping just makes them more beautiful. I don't know. I accept the colorful patterns of light much more then the existence of the bubble itself. But fine bubbles exist if you believe in them or not.

Cigarettes exist even if you don't smoke them. And you shouldn't smoke them unless you want to look very cool (I repeat myself). It is the simplest idea even. If you fill a bubble with pretty air you can see it becomes prettier. The outside of the bubble is free to shimmer and the smoke inside is trapped and swirls. Then the bubbles pop and release the smoke like a cheesy but beautiful magic trick. Of course it is going to do that, you put the smoke in there you idiot. Yet it still gets you every time, and fills you with full Disney wonder and makes you happy to be alive. Smoking is a stupid annoy habit that makes you smell bad and gives you cancer. Bubbles are a children's play thing a waste of a functioning adult's time and resources. I recommend blowing bubbles much more than I do smoking. But if you are going to smoke blow bubbles they might make your shorter smelly life better, even if they don't solve all your problems.            

The Gospel According to Jake Chapter 5:1-76

Jospeh was teaching the young Jesus one day in the wood shop. Jesus hadn’t wanted to learn about wood craft. “Come on I am the son of god when am I going to have build cabinets?”, he had argued. “I don’t plan on staying in one place long enough to even have a kitchen. I plan on wondering the dessert. I will have people for that sort of thing. If I even want to throw a party I will just steal someone else food and multiply it.”

“Everyone needs something to fall back on.” Joseph insisted. “What if this whole savor thing doesn’t work out? I am not going to have no free loading son. You will learn how to work.”

“Step son.” Jesus corrected him. He wasn’t sure why but he never really respected Joseph. It was probably because he never fucked Jesus’s mother. How can you respect a man who never slips his old lady the sausage between the thighs? To be honest it bothered Joseph as well. Anytime someone called his wife the Virgin Mary his heart broke a little. She wasn’t really a virgin. She had a child, children come from sex. He didn’t care how immaculate the fertilization was, he called it sex. Though he hadn’t actually checked he was pretty sure that she had lost her hymen, sure it probably happened in child birth but that still counts. He didn’t even understand why it was so imperative that his wife remain a virgin anymore. She was used up, unless God wanted to have more kids. Joseph hoped that he didn’t one was enough. He had stocked up on coat hangers just in case.

“Whatever,” replied Joseph, “You live under my roof and eat my food. Your mother is my wife. Forgive me for being presumptuous. ”

“You woudn’t have any of those things if it wasn’t for my Dad.” said Jesus.

“Well, I just consider it child support. Forgive me for feeling entitled.”

“You are forgiven.”

Joseph hated when Jesus did that. Having a child that can absolve sins had really ruined that saying.

“Alright then if you are done saving my soul let get to work on these cabinets.” said Joseph.

“I haven’t even started saving your soul yet Step-dad. You just wait and see.”

“Less bragging more carpentering. ”

“My dad would ever carpenter things. He would just will some into existence, or make them out of mud, but only if he had to.”

“Well, you are not your Dad.”

“Actually, I kind of am. Do you want me to explain it to you again?”

“No thanks.”

Raising the son of god and not being able to fuck your wife really make one not care to hear how wonderful and magical the guy is. I mean what is so special about God where he refuses to give a woman’s husband his rightfully earned sloppy seconds? Joseph had used this argument many times with Mary, but she would never change her position. She wouldn’t even give him a fucking blow job. What the fuck was up with that? She would always say “I am sure if God wanted us to do those dirty things he would have mentioned it or sent an angel or something.” Because she had spoken to god dontcha know and people who speak to God don’t do those things unless God tells them to. Joseph asked her if she would ask, but she said she wouldn’t. “He is the all being, all knowing, all present master of time, space, and creation, I don’t want to be a bother. Surely he has enough to worry about. ” Joseph had prayed about it, and learned that prays go unanswered which is an answer in and of itself. He had tricked her into touching it once and he had to sleep on the couch for a month. That wasn’t as bad as the time he tried to convince her to watch him masturbate. She told him that if he wasn’t careful, she would have God make a rule against that sort of thing and then he wouldn’t be allowed to do it at all.

His marriage was a sham. They were glorified roommates raising the son of god together. He had considered divorce many times but every time he did an Angel would show up in his dreams. Apparently, God doesn’t believe in divorce, and if Joseph though his life was bad now just wait a see what would happen if he talked Mary into a “Trail Seperation”, God would cut his fucking dick off if he tried some pussy shit like that. At least that is what the Angel said, could the Angle be lying to him? He didn’t really know too much about these things, and didn’t want to find out. The Angel would then remind him what a horror it was to raise the king of kings, the alpha and the omega. And the Angel didn’t want to ruin the surprise but the was a big reward in it for Joseph if he could just hang in there a little bit longer, 33 more years at most.  Joseph had heard rumors that this big reward was something like 72 virgins, but knowing his luck he bet they wouldn’t put out either.

In away though, Joseph felt sorry for Jesus. If God was so hard on his bitch’s husband imagine who hard he would be on his bastard son. Joseph had been lucky enough to go around the block a few times before he decided to settle down and God took a personal interest in his sex life. Jesus would probably never have sex, Big Father in the sky would never allow it.  Probably couldn’t even masturbate if he wanted to. For a divine being, Jesus certainly wasn’t well endowed. It wasn’t a micropenis, but it was nothing to be proud of. Jesus was also deluded enough to think he could make a living in public speaking. This kid who couldn’t even get a passing grade in Arabic class was going to inspire people? He only told this stupid stories that never made sense. He certainly couldn’t be a carpenter. He just didn’t have a knack for it. Pretty much the only  thing he could make was a lower case “t” out of two long planks and who could ever think of a use for that?  Somehow Joseph had managed to sell his son’s experiment to some gullible romans by telling them it was a method for capital punishment. Joseph would really have a laugh if he walked by a hill some day and saw some poor sap nailed to one of those “t”s. That would be the day. Joseph thought about that and smiled a bit and he was finally in a good enough mood to get down to some wood work.

“Come on,” said Joseph to Jesus “I will show you how to make a dove tail joint, you like doves don’t you. Hopefully you won’t lose any fingers this time. Last time it took you hours to reattach them and you hardly got one board planed.”

Red Ribbon

It was red ribbon week apparently this week. The kids in the schools where I teach were wearing stupid red stickers that said “The choice for me is drug free” or something equally cheese and contrived. Seeing them on children just makes me say to myself “I would hope so, you are only in third grade”. I also imagine that other children are going around school wearing ribbons say “The choice for me is interventions drugs” or “I am just going to be an alcoholic”. Of course, the kids haven’t made up their minds yet which makes the fact they are wearing ribbons that insist that they have already made their life choices ridiculous. Even if they do go home and snort coke off their Dora the Explorer Dvd. I am sure they would still wear the ribbon hypocritically and probably not reconsider their life choices.  I think a 3^rd grade drug addict would be made fun of. It is only cool to be a drug addict in high school and maybe in college, and even then the coolness is limited.

The choice for me is drug free but I almost never wear a red ribbon. I am not sure if I know a good reason to not do drugs. I just don’t think it is a good idea for me. It has nothing to do with knowing the dangers. I don’t really know the dangers. Mostly because I am pretty sure what they told me in elementary school was an exaggeration.  Well about drugs at least. They probably tell you the truth about something. But they have no reason to tell you the truth about drugs. They just want you not to do them, which sort of makes me want to do them. Only I don’t want me to do them more than they don’t want me to do them.  So it balances out.

Whatever. Don’t do drugs. Unless you are under 18 and don’t have to be a productive member of society. Also, I probably don’t want you around me if you are on drugs especially if you are under 18. Drinking is annoying. And don’t smoke….unless you want to look really cool. 

Don't follow leaders, watch the parking meters.  

The Gospel According to Jake 37:1-278

Jesus said to the Apostles “Does this robe make me look fat?” It was a hot sunny day in the Middle East and the 13 of them were resting under a palm tree. Well actually there was only 12 of them under the tree. They always sent one to sit under a different palm tree far away from the group. This time it was Philip, well frankly it was always Philip. They said it was because it was unlucky to sit in a group of 13, but really it was just that nobody liked Philip. Simon Peter was the first to speak “Umm.. No you are skinny.  We are all skinny. We are poor and skinny. Poor people are skinny that is just how these things work.”  Simon Peter was so sumg Jesus just ignored him.

“Anyone else?” Jesus asked. John spoke up next “It makes you look skinny, but it makes you butt look big.” Jesus shot him an evil look.  John corrected himself “I was joking. God, lord can’t you take a joke.” Jesus could talk a joke and he was deeply upset that John did not see the hilarious irony of giving him of all people an evil look. This was worse than when they didn’t get a parable. What was so fucking hard to understand about parables?  Fucking fishermen! “No seriously,” said Jesus, “does this robe make me look fat?” “Are we talking like “PH” fat, like Phat?  You know like phat as in cool, not fat as in obese?” Jesus said “Well, both I guess.” “Oh, then skinny and cool lord, skinny and cool.” replied Andrew.  

“Shut up, Andrew,” said Jesus, “Come on someone tell me if I look fat, F-A-T” (Translator’s note: Jesus of couse did not speak English so that is not actually the letters he said. I just want to point that out as the only place I have deviated from an exact translation. Thank you.) “

I really don’t care Jesus.” said James. James was always the rebellious one, if he was not John’s brother he would have already been kicked out of the group. Jesus knew the day would probably come though so he already had Matthias lined up to replace him just in case. Jesus just sighed to himself this time and said in a rather harsh tone “Fine! Then why don’t you go over to the other palm tree with Philip and not care over there.” James put his sandals on and went to join Philip.

There was an awkward silence.  James the Less spoke up because he could see that Jesus was upset and he wanted to prove that not all James are bad people.   “Fat or not I think you look you look beautiful lord, you are the most handsome man I Have ever followed and well I just want to tell you that I love you. I just love you.” Jesus smiled. James the less always sounded like he wanted to suck his cock, and though Jesus defiantly didn’t swing that way, he found it funny how obvious it was.

“Thank you”, said Jesus, “but you still haven’t answered my question?” “I am starting to doubt that you even want an answer to this question at all!” said Thomas. Jesus just ignored him. He had learned this was the best way to deal with skepticism. Whenever someone accused you curing a shill from the audience or sorry you throw away the Kool-aid packet after turning water into “wine” it was best to just ignore it. People are going to believe what they want to believe, one day though Jesus would come up with a trick that would fool Thomas. He had something big planned. He had bribe city officials and everything, it was going to be quite the show. But that lay further down the road.

Simon Not Peter said “Yeah, well I pretty much agree with Simon Peter. ” He always did. He felt that the two Simons should show solidarity. It was the only way they could keep up with the James. Simon was mostly just glad Jesus came up with the whole thing of calling the other Simon “Rock” (Peter) because it kept him from being called “Simon the Less”, which was a horrible nickname if he had ever heard of one.   “Come on who hasn’t spoken up yet?” asked Jesus.

Matthew and Judas look at one another from the other side of the shade. Judas gave a cunning smile. Matthew knew Judas knew something, but that he wasn’t going to say it until Matthew said his first. Matthew hated when Judas did this. Judas was always trying to make everyone look stupid. It was days like this when Matthew looked back on the simple days when he was a tax collector and everything was golden, literally. Seriously he made bank. His clothes, his house, and even his toothbrush, all of it was solid gold, none of that gold leaf bullshit. Well, his wife was only gold leaf but that was only because no one had invented gold sex robots yet.  Matthew had sold that all now all to follow some dirty jew bastard with the smooth talking words. Elaborate promises were made, but it turns out that shit only pays off after you are dead. Matthew knew a thing or two about scams but he knew enough to keep him mouth shut.

“I am gonna go with yes.”  said Matthew.  “Oh, why is that?” Asked Jesus. “Oh, just to be different, I guess.” replied Matthew. “

Right” said Jesus an air of disappointment about his voice, “alright, Judas what do you think?”.  “Of course, they make you look fat,” said Judas, “There louse fitted clothing. Besides, you are wearing horizontal stripes that always make people look fat.” “Oh Judas,” said Jesus, “you kill me sometimes you know that. Your honesty, it just kills me.” With that Jesus smiled, he then made the announcement that he would be spending sometime in the desert alone and not to follow him, he would be back in about a month or so give or take 10 days and obviously the same amount of nights.

The meeting adjourned and everyone slowly left and went their separate ways leaving Jesus alone under the palm tree. It was evening and the sunset looked beautiful over the desert. Jesus got up and started walking towards it. He hadn’t told them about his date with the devil; for fear that they would get jealous or that they would think he was gay. It is not like fallen angels have genders any more than any other angles. Also, Satan always took on the form of that which you find most tempting, and there was nothing Jesus liked more than a red head with a firm ass and a large rack. Jesus had heard that Satan was into fat guys. That was the only reason he had asked earlier. I mean it is not like Satan would fuck anyone, even if they were King of the Jews.  

Oil Change

Oil changes use to intimidate, because I know nothing about cars. Well, actually, I am still intimidated but I at least know what to expect know. You pull in and they ask you a few simple questions that don't really seem to matter. You leave the keys in the car because they are going to pull it out of the garage in the end. Actually the part where you pull into the garage is sort of scary, cars get fucked up when they fall into that hole. Lucky the man (or I suppose women, but it never is a women now is it?) give you the universal airport signals so you line up your car correctly. I am not sure what correctly is but somehow I don't fall in the hole. The airport signals must be an effective and universal form of communication. For thousand of years those gestures must have existed though they are probably less useful on a camel. Anyways, you get out of car and go wait in the waiting room. I think in the future they are going to figure out how to create a proper waiting room. Something is still too expensive or wasn't been invented yet because there is no reason why waiting rooms need to be boring. Daytime TV doesn't cut it even with a flat screen. I might be wrong about magazines but in general I don't trust them. I suppose one solution is go to a oil change that is connected to a Walmart. Say what you will about Walmart it is much better than a waiting room. Besides you could probably be shopping for something. Unless you are poor like me, then it is just something you walk around in. One benefit of walking around Walmart is that they can't find you to tell you about the status of your air filters. The first time I went in to get my oil changed I don't even think I knew there were air filters in the car. They genuinely worried me when I was told they might need to be replaced. It made me not want to drive. Driving is expensive! You have to replace air filters! There is something uncomfortable about the way they try to sell it to you. It sort of makes you think that they just have dirty ones they show everyone. I don't really think they do. I think it is just there poor to mediocre sales man which makes me think they are lying. There is still always something wrong and that just makes me suspicious. It is paranoia but still they come at you with air filters and a piece of paper with fluids on it, and I am supposed to respect their opinion on my car. Again I know nothing about cars too and I am not very good at human interaction sometimes. I don't really want to get my oil changed but I do want to drive and I don't know how to change it myself. Cars are needy. Maybe I should make it a goal to live with out a car, which I guess means city or middle of nowhere where they don't even have roads. I do not hesitate to choose the former. Of course, bad guys live in cities (and bears and lions in places that don't have roads) and how are you supposed to out run them if you don't have a car. I guess a gym membership, but now you are starting to get back into spending money and doing things I have no interest in, so maybe a car is just easier. Whatever. The men always look so disappointed when I tell them no I do not want to replace that cabin air filter that has small trees of dust growing in it, I like breathing in dust and having less efficient heating and cooling. It doesn't mean you are a bad sales person I am just an asshole with trust issues who also happens to be poor and is very defensive about the fact I know little about cars. I have actually changed the air filters before when my dad showed me. That doesn't mean I know how to do it but it looked easy enough at the time. Anyways, he goes back and hopefully isn't to spite full and puts everything back the way it is suppose to go. You get called up to the counter and pay a seemingly random amount of money. You go out to your car and you drive off. You are free until the sticker on your window say that you have driven 4,000 mile and it is time to go back in a get told the things you had forgotten about are still work with you car. Such is life. Still might be easier then going to the gym.    

Saturn L200

I miss my old Saturn LW200. Well at least for the sake of this blog I do. Implied is that I have a new Saturn LW200 which I drive and that is correct. I totaled the old Saturn I a faithful February day back in the year of someone else's lord 2009. It may have been the day Buddy Holly died, I am not that sure of the date of either these two events and don't particularly care to look either of them up. I was driving down Meridian street right in front of my apartment building when I probably ran a red light. The last time I remember seeing the light it was a stale green. I believe I was listening to The Velvet Underground's aptly titled album The Velvet Underground (not the one with Nico, nor with John Cale for that matter) on my way to buy Mylar for my silkscreen class (Mylar is used to make sure you get the correct registration on your print).It had snowed somewhat recently and it had been awhile since I had driven since it was a bitch to get out of my apartment parking lot when it snow.

I wasn't in a hurry. I honestly don't believe I was paying attention to the traffic lights, but the light was green at one time. It probably wasn't green when I got into the intersection and t-boned a red cobalt which was trying to travel perpendicular to me. I believe I have in the past been waiting at a red light and  gone with out the light turning green by accidentally (perhaps thinking I was just at a stop sign), so I could understand how the crash could not be my fault. However, I have accidentally run red lights more, so it was probably my fault. I told the cop it wasn't, but I was confused at the time. Also, I think you are supposed to lie to cops. I mean unless you murder someone, its the american way. Anyways, I crash into the side of her car real good. I probably wasn't going that fast, but I probably wasn't paying attention to that either. The crash though got my attention real quick.

Time went slower and faster all at the same time, meaning time likely went at the normal speed at least from the perspective of an objective viewer. The air bags deployed leaving me in the surreal situation of not quite understanding where I was. I knew I had been driving not seconds before and I was still in a car. It sort of look like my car except that condom like pillows had been deployed where the steering wheel and glove compartment used to be. The hood seemed more bent up then normal and I went to turn the car off only to discover that is already was off. The power must have worked somewhat because I got my CD out. I had hit some girl who was on her way to class at the same college I was going to. I had made her late for class which I kind of found funny because no one every really buys yours excuse. Car crash is a pretty good excuse though. We were both amiable enough about the crash and seemed to be in good health. The cars were not in great shape. The next time I saw my car I was getting all of my crap out of it so the insurance company could sell it for parts.

It was a good car we had been though a lot together. I was there when we picked it up off the lot shortly after interest rates went down after September 11th. I had somehow felt cool being a 7th grader being driven around in a station wagon, which perhaps shows exactly how lame the other family cars had been. I learned how to drive in that car behind a defunct Supermarket in the parking lot of a defunct mini golf course. I drove it some to high school. I got more made fun of for driving a couple year old station wagon than I did for driving a 17 year old truck that was quite dented from hitting a deer. I had made out with my first girlfriend in that car. I had two girls in the backseat of that car with their pants off. I was in the front seat driving at the time, but neither of them was my sister so it still counts. It had been nothing but reliable and I ran it into a cobalt.

The current Saturn Wagon that I drive is the same year and make and model as the old one. Its a different color, a whorish metallic blue as opposed to the pure virginal sliver of the old one. The air conditioning has stopped working. The speaker are I believe lower in quality though I could be wrong. Somebody hit my taillight so one of the lens is now made out of red tape. I have made out with people in it sure but its not the same. I don't have any stories about girls taking off there pants in it, just one about a boy I didn't really like very much changing his pants in it awkwardly in the Cincinnati Museum of Art parking lot.

The old one was coming close to crossing the 100,000 mile mark on the speedo when I crash it. The new one gave me the chance to drive over that milestone and I hardly even noticed. It was less fun in a used car that had been used by some stranger and not my family. I don't know if I honestly miss it. I still have a machine that takes me where I want to go and that might be enough. Still I wish I had had a proper goodbye one that didn't end real death, just slowly not working too much and costing to much to fix. (Side note: Car crashes are sort of fun if no one dies, the only bummer part is that they end up costing bunches of money.) Still there are memories. Maybe I could make out with my first ex-girlfriend while two girls with no pants on watch. It could happen in the new car, but I really don't care if it didn't.

Peeing in a Cup

So I went in for a drug test today. Not for fun, for like a job thing. I learned for the last time I got tested and couldn't go pee. I ended up at the hallway drinking fountain taking in as much water as I possibly could. It worked and eventually peed. Then I had to pee for the next 6 hours on and off. It was sort of painful. This time I had a glass of Meijer brand cherry diet coke, or diet cherry coke (I am really not sure which.), and a glass of water. I had another glass of water at office while waiting. I read a bit of the bible, mostly for the oddness of it  and because I want to read more of the bible. Also, reading about god separating really get me in the mood to pee. I didn't get though the first chapter. I found it weird that they said god separated the water from the fermentation(sic) meaning sky. I was confused ways and I wish i could remember the word but I can't, too much drugs I guess. I kid, of course, my urine should be clean or as clean as urine can be. It is mainly water and ammonia from my understanding, similar to glass cleaner. So, yeah pretty much that clean. The called me from the waiting room and told me to fill the plastic beaker up to the freshly made sharpie mark. they made sure I couldn't cheat on the test. They had me take everything out of my pocket and they dyed the toilet water blue, foiling my plan on bring back the beaker full of toilet water and my cell phone and trying to pass that off as as my urine. Well, I filled it above the line and had extra urine which I could dispose of normally in a porcelain bowl, even if the water was blue. I made it greener. I don't think I noticed but that seems like it would make quite a pretty color. So I left the bathroom very proud wanting to show the technician. It took me a while to come notice me. I wonder in the few minutes that I waited what I could have been doing to tamper with my sample. I came up with nothing. Maybe drugs make you more creative, or maybe less and there for easier to catch. I don't know. I still stood there awkwardly while she poured my liquids into smaller container and then she sealed those containers with a sticker. The container was still warm. It felt like a bad magic trick. Why did I need to sign it? She could easily be tampering with it right now. You can't fool me. She must be on drugs.

Frame Wars

I was at goodwill today shopping for a frame. My thoughts at this point in my life is that rather than making canvas to paint on it would be easier to paint on Masonite panels. I still have yet to discover how to actually cut said panels on my father's table saw but it must be easier then making a stretcher and having to buy canvas. Such is my thinking anyway. (And I refuse to buy store prepared canvases not because I actually know enough to realize how low quality they are. No it is just because I am an art snob and someone once told me they are low quality and I took that to mean I should look down on the people who use them.)The only problem is that a Masonite panel hard to hang on a wall. The solution of course is a frame. I am scared of making my own frames as well so I decided that I would just buy frames at thrift stores and then make painting to fit them. I feel like an inventive genius but surely someone has had this idea before me. 


None the less I went to goodwill to browse through their used wares. The selections of frames was not great. There was one small bad painting in a wood frame which drew my immediate attention but i decided that it wasn't the type of frame that I wanted. Next my eyes went to a large lithograph of a landscape in a slightly better wood frame. What struck me most was it's size. it was the largest of the frames they had in the area. The lithograph was held in by finishing nails which looked easy enough to get out. Mainly though it was the size of it. Maybe 40in. by 30in., I had made bigger paintings but  not recently. I was slightly intimidated which I liked. The lithograph itself was fairly interesting too. It might be fun to paint on and add too. I wasn't sure if that would defeat the idea of buying the thing to frame a piece of Masonite but I figure it probably didn't matter. Something about it made me hesitate though. Maybe I just had to work up the courage for taking such relatively large object up to the cashier. Also I wanted to look at pants. I figured "What are the chances of someone else taking it?" 


I walked around empty handed and looked at the pants. I eventually made my way back to the frames, and maybe because I still wasn't convinced that I wanted to buy the big thing. i started going though the other frames on the shelves. As I am doing this a man walks down the isle towards the framed objects I am looking at. He zeros pretty much right in on the large framed lithograph I was considering buying. I thought about whether or not I should tell him I was considering buy it. I figured that I was far enough way to were I was implying with my body language that I wasn't seriously considering buying it. I don't know it just felt rude to tell him, and besides at this point I still think the chances that he would want to buy such a thing are low. But sure enough, he picks up the lithograph and takes  so he can examine it more closely in privacy of the next isle. 


At this point, I am slightly upset. I don't know if it was just because it seemed I could no longer have it, but now I desperately wanted that large frame. I looked over and saw the guy examining the MacGuffin. He seemed more interested in the front where I had mostly just looked at the back. He held it close to his face like Sherlock Holmes trying to figure out if it was the original Mona Lisa by looking for some identifying brush stroke. It was a discolored commercial print so I have no idea what this man could have been looking for. I had lost out on the frame I most desired to an idiot, maybe he wasn't but that seem unlikely. 


Indignantly I grabbed an acceptable small wooden frame and decided to walk around the store for a short while with it. I was waiting just in case, to see if the man would change his mind about my beautiful frame. When I walked back to the area he was now looking at the framed objects to see perhaps if there was another diamond in the rough. He had stashed the Precious large frame in the adjacent aisle in front of a bunch of books. I could have easily taken it. It is possible I might not have been able to get out of the store with it and not have him notice, but I could have defiantly taken it. From there I would just have to hope that he was as confrontational as I am. I could somehow find is address and torment by sending him the lithograph (which I know officially thought was stupid) piece by piece wrapped in todays newspaper so he would never forget he came this close to paradise. I didn't take it. Instead, I bought three smaller identical frames figuring I could do a nice triptych. He was once again examining the perfectly typical surface of the lithograph when I left. I don't think we were that different. He is just a bit more clever. I just kind of hope he ends up discovering he doesn't know shit about lithographs.    

Be Alert!

So, I am on fall break this week there for I have been subbing for art teachers in far away places. The power that be call me and ask me if I want to sub and I say sure because I like money. It gets me into new class rooms with new kids, which means I get practice starting over in a new environment which I feel is good somehow. I walk in and sort of forget I am going to be teaching young children, but I can't say I am really surprised when that's who shows up. The first class I sub for got a bit out of control. There was a bee or something flying around the classroom and at least two of the girls were "afraid" of it. So at one point during the class the students started taking turn yelling "Bee Alert!" at which point the two girls who were "afraid" would run to the door. Everybody would laugh and have a grand old time including the girls who were "afraid". In calming them down it took me awhile to come up with the phrase "Yes, be alert and finish your drawing!" which I found funny, but no one else really seemed to. I guess they are more into physical comedy. Later, the game became how many markers can we stick in the teacher's back pocket. Perhaps the game is more fun when you are not the teacher, I don't know. It is not very fun when you are though. After I stopped taking out the single markers they did manage to get quite a few in there, especially considering it was the pocket which also contained my wallet.

Today went better. I get oh so happy when I talk and it commands silence. I feel powerful and important. I think I demanded more respect today. Not to say it was prefect, but there were no Alerts bee or otherwise so I was happy. I got to use the "Are you done yet?" which is quite possibly my favorite question ever. A new new teacher who hasn't taught a class yet came to observe me, if she learned anything from me (which she probably didn't it was her third observation) I hope it is the question "Are you done yet?". I want to spread that meme.

My Favorite Beatle (Part 3): Turn Me on Dead Man

So, the decision come down to John and Paul. To be honest neither is that appealing as a person. Lennon comes off as mean and sort of conceited while McCartney is just pretty stuck up. I mean I guess it is a good thing that one of the most powerful songwriting team was human. Bob Dylan still doesn't seem human to me and I have seen him live. Dylan was also mean in the 60's as evidenced by Don't Look Back, but it was cutie somehow when Dylan did it. Maybe Paul could have gotten away with it. John was also the bigger druggie. I am not sure how to feel about the whole Yoko thing. I mean it is kind of cool I don't dislike Yoko Ono, but there is this uneasy feeling that she used John Lennon to become famous. I am fine with people using other people. I mean it is not like she had mind control powers, Lennon had as much free will as anyone else does. I don't know I always though I liked Lennon better. He was he was a bit artier than McCartney, more abstract. But there is something that make me think that Paul's poppiness is still very worth wild. It was not that many Christmas ago that I realized that that one synthy X-mas song was in fact being sung by the same guy who sings "Live and Let Die". "Wonderful Christmastime" is a worse song than "So This is Christmas", so Lennon wins that one. I don't know the more I think about it I don't really have a favorite Beatle. But Lennon are much more the Beatles to me than the other two. They are different sides of the same coin. A beautiful love affair that involved two other men who certainly did there part. An Anti-Climax of blog posts, but such is life.

Job Hunting

So I am starting to realize the humiliation that comes with trying to find a job. I have called this or upscale fast food” joint at least four times. They finally perhaps just gave in and let me come in and talk with someone. I mowed the lawn quickly so I could get all pretty like in a polo shirt. I go in around the time she said I could come in. I went up to the counter and ordered “speaking with the manager” instead of food. It took them a while to fill my order but the price was right. Well sort of. The manager came up to me and told me to sit in the corner, out of the way. So I did. I was there for a while. I ran out of things to read after I read the menu. I then started to look out the window of things that were written in Helvetica, it usually isn’t hard to find something which at least looks like it. I sat there for 45 minutes. I felt like the problem child who needed to learn his lesson about calling places of business and annoying the manager. The manger did come over and talk to me a couple times which encouraged me to sit a bit longer. I figured that I wouldn’t wait more than an hour but I wasn’t actually keeping track of time. When she final did come over and talk to me things still didn’t go well. She asked me about my job history and I struggled to talk and for whatever reason started coughing. She asked me if I wanted a class of water and I foolishly said yes thus delaying the sudo-interview another 7 minutes. I had enough time to collect myself and to deside to hand her my resume when she came back. I talk about working at camp and what not and she didn’t seem like she wasn’t going to hire me. But of course, she didn’t hire me and told me that I could call back in a couple of weeks and we could talk about employment then. I said thank you, told her it was a pleasure meeting her, and then politely left. I don’t think I was too far outside the door when I decided “Fuck her, I really didn’t want to work there anyways.” (Of course in the most mature frame of mind possible) But then I realized if I was still looking for a job in a couple of weeks I probably would call back.

I don’t mind be humiliated, but I wish I only had to do it for things I really wanted. I am just not punk rock. How would someone who is punk rock find a job? Is there a website for that? Where the interview is just where you go in and tell off the person in charge and then they hire you. I don’t think I would be good at it, but I certainly wouldn’t mind giving it a go.   

Pop-UP

So I get an e-mail for this group that is doing POP-UP shows:

• "as I was going through the applications for pop up this month, I took the opportunity to view your website. Because our October show features high school students at one of our venues, I would ask that if you would still like to show you send us photos of works you could show that are not graphic in regards to genitalia or violence. And our policy, at this point, is to not show graphic sexual content nor depiction of violence at any of our Pop Ups. Thank you for your understanding and please let us know if you are still interested in showing some of your other works."

She is talking about my other blog which is full of the rather sexual art work I did my last semester of college as visible at my other blog thing. It took me a minute to figure out what she meant by violence then I remembered the besides having cum on her face I painted the Medusa decapitated. It is funny how things like that slip your mind. Actually, I was kind of thinking that might be one of the ones she might find acceptable. I mean really who is offended by blood these days. I don''t know. I guess I understand. It is not my money going to the show and whoever monies it is that is paying for the show might not want to see how clever my sex painting are. Especially, if it is paid for by the government in which case it is everyone's money and certainly can't stand behind the claim that I make art for everyone. I still don't understand how someone can really be "offended" by something which is not a personal attack. I could see how if Medusa came to the show she might not like me depicting her that way. But how can someone be offended by you trying to show them something sexual? I can see how they might not like it, but is it against there morals because I put something on the wall they disagree with in some way? I am a complete lier anyways, nobody has ever yelled at me for anything I have painted. People seem to tell me that they think they should be offended, but isn't that just some strange cultural thing we should over come. I mean I guess I can imagine imagery I don't like and would respond negatively to and then maybe if I was bold enough and thought it was a big enough deal I might ask them to take it down...... maybe that's what these people are doing. I am full of shit. I am going to send them copies of my abstracts and still lives and hope they let me join in on the fun. 

My Favorite Beatle (Part 2)

I am pretty sure I didn't even know George Harrison's name for the longest time. He has actually written decent song. Here comes the sun sticks out as probably my favorite of his. Taxman also come to mind though it moves me less. I am going to go out on a limb to say he wasn't that attractive either. He died in a lame way as far as I can remember. Certainly being assassinated or living seem like cool options to me. I think George just died of health problems. Take that you hippy freak. Ripping off a girl group by accident is pretty funny, and proves something vaguely scientific but that is not enough to save him. George also isn't a very cool name, probably my least favorite name of the Beatles.

If I knew anything about music or producing or what actually happened in the recording studio, I might like George Martin. I think that would be a bit of a cheat though. He certainly didn't seem to be a big part of their live performances. I wonder if he got laid for being part of the Beatles. Still I he might have been an important part of who the Beatles were, but he isn't one of the guys on the album cover and there for has no chance of being my favorite Beatle. I am also not going to count Brian Epstein, though he is also kind of cool.

Pete Best from my understanding was all of the girls favorite Beatle before the Beatles became the Beatles. Fans were outraged when he was replaced by Ringo, which is understandable except for the fact that he was reportedly a worse drummer than Ringo. The coolest thing about Pete is that he was supposedly happy he wasn't part of the Beatles. I know post justification exists along with cognitive dissonance, but still kind of cool.  

(I think this is the most shallow and stupid thing I have ever written. I sort of hate myself.)

STAY TUNED FOR THE EXCITING CONCLUSION!!!!

My Favorite Beetle (Part 1)

You can not go with Richard Starkey. He does have an adorable singing voice. I admire people who can't sing. I think that might be one of the reasons I don't like the Beatles that much, they are too decent of singers. I mean they aren't Frank Sinatra but they also aren't Bob Dylan. I think they even know that. They are more popular than Dylan, another reason not to like them. Robert Zimmerman is my favorite Beatle, except for the fact he wasn't a Beatle. He may have turn them on to pot though which is weird. Anyways, Ringo Starr is a delightful chap. For me, I think he is the more (or most if you include Alec Baldwin apparently) memorable conductor on Shining Time Station. I enjoy the fact that he would say grammatically incorrect sentences. He had peritonitis, like Houdini and  Gilbert Gottfried. His drum playing is fine for all I can tell.   I think the main problem with him is that he is weird looking. It makes since some how that he was raised poor. He is like the Kenny of  South Park of the Beatles. (Cartman is John, Stan is Paul, Kyle is George)  In A Hard Day's Night they make fun of his nose (and in the cartoon he is certainly the most recognizable of the cartoons, again like Kenny), but I don't think that is it. He just has this gypsy quality about him. I picture him as bug eyed for some reason. As far as I know he also didn't write any particuarly good songs. He was the last one to join the Beatles. The only one to have someone come in and replace him (Jimmy Nicol would probably be my favorite Beatle if he had done anything exceptionally cool afterwords.. and I suppose it would help if I knew anything at all about his musicianship.) So basicly, Ringo is too ugly to be my favorite Beatle. One down, three to go. 

Troublemakers

One the troublemakers today had to sit alone at his own table because he was acting up. I think he thought he was punishing me by acting sad and not talking. But yeah that was pretty much exactly what I wanted him to do, well not the sad part. He did his drawing and wasn't disruptive. I think that means I win. the other troublemaker it seems likes to sit up front closer to me where I tried to move him for punishment. So now he just sits there. I guess that means it is not punishment and I can keep an eye on him. There are two girls who don't stay in there seats and they whisper secrets and such. Other wise the class is pretty much angels. I knew I wasn't a lousy teacher... or at least I can fake it.

I'm a rambling man.

I am not sure if I am a horrible teacher or if children are just sort of crazy at the end of the day and don’t really care about drawing. Well they do draw or at least copy. I don’t understand children maybe I am doing just fine. Maybe it is just because I am taking over from a different teacher. Maybe I will get better with practice. At least I showed up this time and there was actually supposed to be a class. I think this is just part of becoming an adult. I need to accept the fact that I have one idea what I am doing, in order to start pretending that I do. At least that is what I think adults do. Amanda Palmer talks of the fraud police. I don’t think I am afraid of being found out, I think it would be a relief. I am not afraid, well except of everything. Well not marshmallows but most other things in life, or just life itself. I did have a brief break though the other day when I reminded myself I was going to die someday. It made me feel like I wanted to be alive. I am not sure why that touched me at that particular moment. I never thought I wanted to die. I guess I was just happy that I am not suicidal. I have that going for me.   I am also reasonably healthy, reasonably smart, and reasonably attractive (in my own bias estimation). I just have no idea what I am doing and now I am just getting rumbly.  

A TV show called Dexter

I have been burning through the season of Dexter. I am almost caught up enough to watch along on cable I don’t have. Anyways, I think the main things about the show that caught my imagination, is the way the show make you relate to a sociopath. I in no way agree with eye for an eye justice. I don’t think people show kill other people, I guess the show make it a little bit better by making it an individual as opposed to the government acting in my name. It is also a deeply disturbed whom we are told would kill people anyways, so I guess he is trying the best he can to make a negative a positive. Whatever, I don’t care, nobody should kill anybody. I don’t know what we should do with criminals but the idea of punishment just seems petty.

I digress. What I like about it, particularly about the first season is how they make an anti-social monster very relatable. Again not the killing thing, the way he interacts with people and feels like he doesn’t have the right emotions for situation. The way he sort of just uses his relations to feel/seem normal, and the way that grows into him realizing he might be capable of real affection. I mean that is my life, that is every pop song I ever liked, and I can only assume is other people’s lives too.  There is a better way of saying that, but basically it is a pretty good show.

The Night Photographer

I have been walking around at night taking photos for this blog I am doing with my long distance relationship “friend”. It feels a little bit creepy to say the least. There are not many people in who live in the suburbia in which I live who walk around and take photos at night. In fact, as far as I can tell I am the only one. It is a big enough town though, maybe they are just better at hiding then I am. Perhaps, nobody else is doing it though just because it is a boring non-rewarding thing to do. I certainly don’t know what my concept is.

Regardless, part of me thinks it should be a crime to walk around with a camera and tripod at 9 o’clock in the evening. I am not sure why though. I think it is the telephoto lens that I have. Given, more massive and useful telephoto lens exist in the world, but the thing about photography is that (unless you are looking through the view finder yourself) you don’t really know what one is taking a picture of. Nor do you know how powerful the lens is.

Once, I did see a house with a large lit window close its blinds after I had walked past and probably taken a few pictures in the general direction of the house.  Now I know correlation is not causation, but I can still think the word revolves around me. Why else would they close the blinds though? I doubt that they wanted to walk around their living room naked. If memory serves me right, they were just watching T.V. Of course, the very fact that I know all this just proves that they should’ve closed their blinds. If I am completely honest with myself, part of my mind was thinking about taking a picture through that window and I was slightly disappointed when they closed their blinds. I am not saying it would have made a great shot I just like to leave my options and windows open.

I often think about what I would say if a police officer approached me. “I am just working on a school project.” seems like the most cliché, a project about how to create interesting photos or something. I could easily show him the photos. I do not really take creepy photos even though I might feel like I do. I could easily show him the photo of trees and rocks that take. He would probably think more of me if I were a peeping tom, instead of a guy who says the words “abstract composition”. The worst “laws” that I do break have to do with the parks closing after sunset, surely one does not have to go to court for such matters. I bet I would just get asked to leave.

One thing that I have found though is that people are rather nice when you walk past them at night. They seem much more likely to say “Hello”. It is not just “Hello”, it is more like “Hello, see I am not a rapist please say ‘Hello’ back so I can determine that you are not a rapist as well”. It makes it much easier to say “Hello” back in a happy, friendly tone of voice. I smile too though I doubt they can see it in the dark. Still, they all seem to have better excuses for be out at night. They are with their dog, children, husband, or wife. I just have my camera. Sure, I might have just said “Hello” thus proving I am not a rapist, but my camera hasn’t. No telling what kind of nefarious things it might be up to, dragging me along. See, I am not the creep,  my camera is.