Umbrellas of Pure Love

The other day I returned an umbrella I stole. I attached a completely honest note detailing the nature of my deception. I had decided to take the risky, and less traveled, road, just to be novel. After all, I knew absolutely I could get away with mistakenly commandeering such a piddly thing. It was sitting next to me all day, and had obviously been there from the night before. I reasoned that I had waited long enough for someone to claim it. How many umbrella have I lost in exactly the same manner? As I walked home with it, I thought about how umbrellas are a public commodity that float from person to person. I thought, "Poor suckers who actually spend money on a umbrella." Then the guy came in two days later, looking for his umbrella. "I got it for re-subscribing to The New York Times." and "I can see how someone would take it. It being so handsome." Of course, I lied straight up to him, "Uh . . . No I haven't seen any umbrellas. What color?" This is the point where I had three options -
1) Keep the umbrella. Screw him and his likeable happiness.
2) Return the umbrella to the scene of the crime, but hidden, so I could claim to have not seen it before.
3) Return the umbrella to him and apologize.

I went with option three. Then Karma struck. The only other umbrella that Marigold and I own I accidentally left at a college building. It wasn't there when I went back for it.

4ft. 8.5in

Fade in on a dramatic shot of a space shuttle launch, smoke billowing.
Superimpose a measurement mark with "4ft. 8.5in" on the booster rockets.
Fade into a train coming out of a tunnel, camera pans above tracks.
Superimpose a measurement mark with "4ft. 8.5in" on the rails.
Fade to a British landscape with a horse drawn wagon on an old dirt road.
Superimpose a measurement mark with "4ft. 8.5in" between the wagon wheels.
The wagon rolls off into distance as the measurement mark floats above the rutts.
Fade to a new stone road when a lone roman chariot racing by.
Superimpose a measurement mark with "4ft. 8.5in" on the chariot wheels.
Fade to driver's perspective with two horse asses bouncing up and down.
Superimpose a measurement mark with "4ft. 8.5in" over the two asses.
Fade to black with sounds of shuttle launch.

Halloween

This is a picture of the Haske kids, circa 1979. I'm the mysterious Red Batman. You were in so much trouble if you messed with our gang. We didn't need no stinking Robin.

Be Polite

You know what really gets me? When I ask politely for a favor and you rudely respond, "Weeeelllll, you could've said please." I'm sorry that I did not conform your magic word etiquette policy, but I believe that didn't spit in your face when I asked. In fact, you forced me to blabber on as you lamely looked at me, waiting for "please". I really wish I could have said, "No, no I couldn't have said please, bitch. Thank you so much for offering the scissors despite my incredibly rude approach, but no thank you. I would rather use my finger than help you feel superior." Unfortunately I am not that quick or RUDE, so I placatingly took the scissors as you towered above me. Sometimes I really hate myself for letting people get away with crap like that.

Friendly Neighborhood Man

Tonight I was walking to my Society Of Illustrators (SOI) meeting. Just strolling along the park sidewalk, minding my own business, when - Hark! What do mine eyes see? What do mine ears hear? Gee, SteveMan, its Domestic Violence in the Park! And with a new-born baby! I almost walked past, thinking, "Mind your own business." But then I thought that I didn't want to be one of those people they profile in 20/20 episodes as one of the mindless horde that doesn't care about other people (or only cares about other people if they are good looking enough). So I walked up and tried to interject, but the man and woman were screaming and hollering at each other, and grappling pretty roughly. I couldn't say whether he had hit her with any force, but it was definitely physical, and she was fairly hysterical. I took the baby from them and lamely stood five feet away as they continued to wrestle. The baby wasn't crying at all. He was just about six weeks old, so he slept through it all. Then the dude threw the lady to the ground and walked toward his car. I believe he was saying something like, "Take your son." And she was saying, "Don't leave me here!" Then he drove off, leaving her there in the park with their baby. He seemed to be concerned about going to jail. I gave her my cell phone to call whoever she wanted (the cops?). She called her mother and as she was on the phone, crying, another three people walked up to help. One of the them was a nurse-lady and she really took over (thank god!). She called the police and gave a very detailed, professional account. Two squad cars showed up a few minutes later and they took a report, including my name and number. Since the dude was no longer there, they could not arrest him, but the lady could file for a warrant if she wanted. She said she wanted. Frankly, I think she will be back with him in two weeks, just like every other Cheaters episode. The lady was nineteen and the dude, twenty-four. Apparently he had just lost his job and was not willing to support his son financially as much as the lady wanted (at all). In fact, he apparently was claiming that it was not his son, just like Maury. My question is: why do people have to suck? I don't claim to say that he is the only one at fault in the situation. I have no idea what their situation was, really, but both of these people are at fault. They are at fault for bring a child in the world when they were not mature enough to even handle themselves. The baby was the cutest thing (besides Marigold and our kitties), by the way.

I walked on to my meeting, fifteen minutes late.

I Am For An Art

"I am for an art that is political-erotical-mystical, that does something other than sit on its ass in a museum.
I am for an art that imitates the human, that is comic, if necessary, or violent, or whatever is necessary.
I am for an art that comes out of a chimney like black hair and scatters in the sky.
I am for an art of underwear and the art of taxicabs. I am for the art of ice-cream cones dropped on concrete. I am for the majestic art of dog-turds, rising like cathedrals.
I am for an art that a kid licks, after peeling away the wrapper.
I am for an art of fat truck tires and black eyes.
I am for U.S. Government Inspected Art, Grade A art, Regular Price art, Yellow Ripe art, Extra Fancy art, Ready-to-eat art, Best-for-less art, Ready-to-cook art, Fully cleaned art, Spend Less art, Eat Better art, Ham art, Pork art, Chicken art, Tomato art, Banana art, Apple art, Turkey art, Cake art, Cookie art.
I am for an art that helps old ladies across the street."
Claes Oldenburg 1967

Holidays in Savannah

Holidays in Savannah, I'm sure, don't look anything like this. They don't include whimsical ladies in red skating in the town fountain and creepy fur-coated men watching. Always watching. However, it is my fantasy of Savannah for this upcoming winter. Wouldn't a little snow be novel as all hell? I can't remember the last time I saw snow, or even dramatic elevation change. Anyway, I'll take what I can get, and they say that we are getting a cold front soon. They better not be toying with me, because some cold would be very nice. They are always toying with me. Damn They.

I'm sorry that my blog has degraded to small talk about the weather. It's Their fault.

Debate!

I'd like to say that the debate last night was MUCH better. I didn't even care (kind of) who won or lost. Bush and Kerry actually tackled some real issues and showed some real personality. Bravo. Also, I like how once they are face to face, they are MUCH more cordial with each other than they are in TV spots. There should be constant debates in an election. That would force the candidate to either be less underhanded with each other and us, or be more outright mean. Also, the actual issues would be important. Of course, then people wouldn't pay attention.

blah, blah, blah, the end.

Looming Failure

I need to learn to be a less pessimistic person. Sure, some of you readers would say, "But that is your charm!" No, no. Thank you, but I am naturally charming and would arguably be even more if I were less whinny.

The reason I bring this up is that I feel like I am destined to be a failure at SCAD and beyond that into a career. I feel that I really don't have the discipline to succeed. Yes, I have some talent, but so does everybody. Those people that you talk about with your friends are the ones with a singular drive that projects past the merely talented. They don't get distracted with tangential interests, like reality TV or the latest REM album. Or they find way to successfully integrate those diapered elements. I haven't solved that equation, and am not sure if I ever will.

Then again, those people that are successful are because they know that they will be. They are positive and confident about their ideas and work. Sometimes all they have is confidence (Blue Dog, Kinkade). Maybe that is the only element (other than hard work) that I am severely lacking.

So I'm starting the positive thinking now. Yay!!!!

Oh, Rodney

Rodney Dangerfield died yesterday. Maybe now he will get some respect. It's funny how death does that to you. I didn't know that he was rejected from the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. He had failed to execute "enough of the kinds of roles that allow a performer to demonstrate the mastery of his craft." I never loved him, but that is just plain mean. One has to admit that Back To School and Ladybugs are classics. Also, I believe he elevated Natural Born Killers from a silly hack-job of a film to brilliant, nail-biting snuff.

Insure My Health, Boys!

I hate paying for insurance - car, shipping, pet, paper, plastic, death, but especially health insurance. It is the biggest government sponsored sham this side of the sinking of the Lusitania. Because of this negative attitude I harbor and our thin finances, we are currently living without any health insurance. Also, our computer has no virus protection. We are living dangerously, and we don't give a damn! So if I were to choke on my Crisp Berry Crunch cereal right now, I would be in big trouble. And that's exactly where I want to be, if any of you Republicans are reading this. I want to be on the edge of financial disaster, simply because I am a Communist Leach. (That is sarcasm; in case any of you Republicans are reading this)

Anyway, if I were to go to France next spring (mid March through mid May) I would need to show proof of health insurance to the school. Therefore, this gives an excellent chance to all you I-hate-Steve-for-leaving-his-wife-so-he-can-become-a-expatriot-
-in-France-(of-all-places) people to have an opinion. Which is the better world - 1) I stay in Savannah, continue to live dangerously (I like to think of it as the punk rock lifestyle) or 2) I got to France to excel my education and we get health insurance (sigh of relief - now My appendix can burst in complete comfort!)? They both seem so glamorous, but I have to choose, and soon. So please forgive me if I start looking into getting some cheap "health plan" which will take 10 to 20% of our monthly income (at least) and probably not pay out if (cross your fingers) anything were to happen to us. The thought of giving that much money to some fat cat for nothing. Nothing! Why it's almost like taxes. In fact, it is exactly the same as taxes, in the way in which it effects my life, except it all goes to some middle man company, that is doing very well for itself. Where do all those profits go? I'll bet they trickle down through the vibrant economy to heighten my drab punk rock lifestyle. (That is sarcasm; in case any of you Republicans are reading this)

Tom Waits!

I am listening to Tom Waits new album (Real Gone) right now! I am giddy. Giddy! This my first time through and am still on the first track, so I can't tell you anything about it yet. Keep your panties on your butt.

I would have gotten it earlier, but somebody at SCADradio was sitting on it for WAY to long. I believe it comes out officially Oct. 5th, but I get to get it early because I am smart. You can listen to my radio show every Saturday from 12 noon to 2 PM (Eastern time) on www.scadradio.org if you want. You already missed it today, so screw you.

I am listening to the newest Elvis Costello CD as well, and so far I have a favorable impression of it. No song screams out as annoying or too saccharine. Honestly, He has put out way too much crap lately for anybody to really keep up. But this one is worthy of checking out.

In future news, both Leonard Cohen and Nick Cave have new albums on their way!

France

So I'm thinking of going to France. SCAD is offering a spring quarter in Lacoste, France. I have to make the decision very soon as to whether to leave Marigold alone in Savannah for ten weeks while I gallivant in beautiful southern France. It doesn't really cost too much considering it is ten weeks in France, but it another drop in the debt bucket. I would have to get more loans. The thing that tears me up is that I would go with no qualms at all if Marigold were not a factor. She says that this is too good of an opportunity (both travel-wise and educationally) to pass up just because she would be sad.

Anyway, I think I have already made my decision to go, but I feel bad about it. It feels selfish. Maybe I'll get a French whore to appease my poor heart. I hear them old school hos are good.