Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Well, I used to go to the drawing group Saturday mornings at the art center. I'd load up with a coffee and sweet roll at the Qwik Stop across the street, my reward for a week of tedious coping odd jobs then beginning nursing with callous bitches, nurse Cratchets, mean, demeaning, jaws flapping. Oh, a quiet Saturday morning sketching life drawing with friends upstairs the old art center.

One Saturday morning, sun shining, toting my art supplies, drawing board, bag of coffee and roll, climbing the outside stairs up to the classroom studio, I slipped, missed a step, climbing in my reverie, fell through the guard rail, fell turning over fell eight feet, landing face down across the front fender and hood of a car.

I bounced off and crawled over to the edge of the building, lay there in fetal position. This rich military officer's wife got out of her car,walked right by me, smiling with art supplies, climbed the stairs with guard rail broken, then silence. I waited for someone to come down and check me out. No one came. She never peeped, or thought I was a bum, but she knew me, had known seen me many times in art group. Bums and ladies, rich and poor, drawing with Republicans insurance agents, the wealthy, hotel heirs, the odd beat person or two.

After awhile, I stood up, feeling less stunned. My right ribs hurt. There was an indentation on the car. Coffee was burst.

I thought, "Fuck the art class." I knew this Saturday morning Tai Chi group and went there, did Tai Chi. My ribs cracked a bit during easy smooth twists, grasps bird with tail, wave hands at clouds. I was ok.

Later, I went back to the art center, told them to get the guard rail fixed. They fixed it once, but I easily broke it for them, demanding it be welded. The art center woman told me she had thought about pressing charges on me for denting her car. I told her to weld the guard rail. (I don't like threats of suits). They welded it.

I went back to the drawing group another Saturday. The rich military officer's wife knocked her cream cheese painted bagel over onto the floor, face down. I laughed.
She said, "You shouldn't laugh at others' misfortunes."

I laughed again.
And I've learned to laugh, not at real misfortunes, only the impending downfall of the ruling class.
So while yer smashing the state, keep a smile on yer lips an a song in yer heart, while having compassion for their buried spirits asleep within.

And be mindful while climbing stairs.

I was walking south on North Charles street
he was walking north striaight at me
well dressed suit and tie carring a brief case
he fell forward onto his face
just splat
no arms outstreched to break his fall
I stopped
the others walked around him
I knelt by his side
this is almost forty years ago and I have a memory deficiet no doubt, I remember there was blood but not much from his face hitting the sidewalk, I could not do anything I didn't know anything, no first aid I could think of, the ambulance came they say he was dead before he began to fall

arizona west of phoenix
bodies all over the road, the state tropper asked me to block the road with my truck, but the four wheelers worked their way around it anyway, weaving their way through the bodies

scary story jimbo like the day of the living dead, the least she could have done was laugh, acknowledge your existence.

what are you giving up for lent?

this is bad jimboloco too much time here
dam if I could give up this compulsive scribbling of mine, life would be a dream. I think I am done here
keep in touch

what are you giving up for lent?

getting bent
memories of death experienced directly
tragically
otta freak us into
gratuity.
for compulsive scribbling
and
such.

Hi

Nice snippet. Well writ.

Good story.....sad commentary. Glad you walked it off. Glad you were given some semi-sweet revenge. I often wish for instant satisfaction after feeling wronged or seeing some injustice, rarely does it come.....
how sweet it is when it does.

They say to seek revenge is wrong
And of course it is.....
But when dropped in your lap like that, tis as good as a gift.

Anyway, thanks for sharing this.
Liked your ending.....
I ended up chuckling and that is good.

"And be mindful while climbing stairs."

And whenever I go splat all I am is embarassed....
why is that.

I don't think I'll ever understand people.....
or myself for that matter.

Bye

Don't say "bye!" You are a talking ostrich.

imaginary friends, imaginary music, imaginary loves, imaginary TV.

that haiku about smoking, I been thinking about making another meanlingless gestrue.

looking at all my compulsions, and deciding which I want to give up for lent. "All human behavior is over determined" how one computlsion leans on another, going to have to stop writting her for awhile pretty soon. Hopefully with this one. I was going to keep a low profile on Haiku, but the perezoso affair brought me out of it.

Tears fall never really for one person, or one reason. Or so I think. That thing about sitting Shiva and covering the mirrors, they say is so that the mourners will not see their faces and see no guilt that they are still living.

Crazy mike comes over to my grandmothers house to pick me up. He has just had surgery for cancer. Just before he showed up my grandmother had dropped a flower pot and was in tears about the loss. So Mike comes in and she says, "Oh mike I was so worried about you I a crying. Later when I am in the car with my dad I tell that bubby was all ready crying be fore he got there he says
"Economy of effort"

jim going to work on work on the my vanity page try to make my compulsion with Husserlian TV less obscure. , now if I can just figure out when Lent starts, I think it was last week.

So I am all ready a week late.

write when you can
and thanks maestro
as I say to cecil
thanks for nothing