It's 10 in the morning and I'm doing shots
It's ten in the morning and I'm on my third shot of Jack Daniels.
Why? you ask, aghast.
Well, a couple of reasons:
a) Don't all painters do shots in the morning? Liquid courage? You think this shit is easy?
b) I woke up this morning and realized, while still in bed, that something was terribly wrong with my portrait of Old Bobby Lee. Turned out I was right, in the most horrible way imaginable. I'd show you a picture, but I'm having trouble downloading the photo files from my camera. What a morning. You'd do a shot too.
Give me a second, I'm just finishing my Heineken. In the interest of sobriety, I'm drinking those 8oz. ponies, although I must admit, I've done about five by now.
As it turns out, I transferred, and then painted, Bobby's left eye onto the wrong grid section of th canvas. How? you ask. I can honestly say, I have no fucking idea. Sometimes we become so absorbed in the system that we lose track of the larger picture. This is why I exited the real world, as we know it, a year or so ago. Who knew it would track me down. I'm like Shane--a man with a past I cannot escape.
The tragedy? Man, I really liked that eye. The purples and the blues... Some other stuff too. As I went to bed last night, all I could think about was how much I liked it, how the painting seemed to be going particularly well. And now? Now I've got to white (black) it out and do it over again. And here's my promise to you: it won't be the same. It may be okay. Hell, it may be better. But I wanted the one I did last night, and in about half an hour, it will, I assure you, be gone.
I'm reminded of Sophie's Choice. You think this shit is easy?
Anyway, part of me isn't surprised. When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it's a wonder I can think at all.
Why? you ask, aghast.
Well, a couple of reasons:
a) Don't all painters do shots in the morning? Liquid courage? You think this shit is easy?
b) I woke up this morning and realized, while still in bed, that something was terribly wrong with my portrait of Old Bobby Lee. Turned out I was right, in the most horrible way imaginable. I'd show you a picture, but I'm having trouble downloading the photo files from my camera. What a morning. You'd do a shot too.
Give me a second, I'm just finishing my Heineken. In the interest of sobriety, I'm drinking those 8oz. ponies, although I must admit, I've done about five by now.
As it turns out, I transferred, and then painted, Bobby's left eye onto the wrong grid section of th canvas. How? you ask. I can honestly say, I have no fucking idea. Sometimes we become so absorbed in the system that we lose track of the larger picture. This is why I exited the real world, as we know it, a year or so ago. Who knew it would track me down. I'm like Shane--a man with a past I cannot escape.
The tragedy? Man, I really liked that eye. The purples and the blues... Some other stuff too. As I went to bed last night, all I could think about was how much I liked it, how the painting seemed to be going particularly well. And now? Now I've got to white (black) it out and do it over again. And here's my promise to you: it won't be the same. It may be okay. Hell, it may be better. But I wanted the one I did last night, and in about half an hour, it will, I assure you, be gone.
I'm reminded of Sophie's Choice. You think this shit is easy?
Anyway, part of me isn't surprised. When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school, it's a wonder I can think at all.
posted by Geoffrey at 8:02 AM
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