w i n t e r
rational
Take the rational out of a situation and you don't have much of a situation left, you've a problem. You've something to solve. With the rational there is always a solution, without it you're screwed. Last night all rational simply evaded everything I did. Every situation I found myself in was a walk in the surreal.
Maybe I was giving off a different aura.
"Are you alright? Your face looks really strained."
Well, I was. I was fighting the urge to go pickup the guitar in the far corner of the bar. Two stools down a fellow was playing a steel string he'd brought in with him and I really wanted to play, except the bartender has made it clear he hates my voice. In a private conversation I'm now going to make public, he said the owner of the bar didn't much care for it either. Well, yeah, I might have looked a little strained. Fighting the urge to play with the rational that if I did I'd most certainly offend at least two people in the bar.
So my hands began to sweat and I tightened up and fell into a ten yard stare. At the other end was an old Harmony guitar, and sitting right across from me was a current reality...I stink.
I brought a photograph to a show called "the art flop" upon request. It's in the same bar. The show starts October 1, but I wanted to get the piece up. It's a nude, but from the side...no breast...no ass...no, well, nothing. Nothing the slightest bit erotic, except the beautiful silhouette of a beautiful Asian model. It's one of the few photos where I've used two negatives to make one print. Turned out great. Better than great, but it's hard to explain in words. However, I'm sure you can guess the response I got when I dropped the thing face up on the bar.
"What's her name? How old is she? Where does she live? Can I have her number? Got anymore?"
"No, no, no, no, no."
"Bastard. I can't believe you man, you'll look at these," his hand waves in the general direction of the fetish mags on the corner of the bar, "but you won't come off any REAL information."
"No, I won't. It doesn't matter. Take the picture for what it is or not at all."
"I'll give you fifty-bucks for it."
It won't surprise me if the thing just disappears. That's how things have happened lately. See, these folks ask me to read, they ask me for photography, they ask me to play guitar, but then it's mixed in with the fetish mags and the guy reading ticket stubs (actually that was me) and the Barbie doll exhibit and the guy who can actually play the guitar...the real and sub-talent. Christ.
You might get the impression I've a problem with this bar, but I don't. I've a problem trying to make sense of it. The bar is what it is. They've taken me in. Treat me well. We laugh. But I've got to question motives sometimes. I've got to question the rational behind it all.
goodnight 10.3.98
{actually 9.23.98}