What’s really embarrassing about this whole mannikin head in the recycling bin thing is the fact that after walking by it during daylight hours, I felt the need…the absolute crushing desire to drive back after dark because I really wanted to steal the head and bring it back to a tiny apartment where approximately 300,000 drawings and pieces of art are stored. I mean, what made me think, oh goodie, a head. I need that! I really need that…I mean I wanted it so much so that I was willing to get in my car, drive stealthily over two blocks to the recycling bin of a second rate beauty salon after dark, only to find that some other freakishly weird person had already beat me to the stealing of a mannikin head.
Damn! Life just ain’t fair. Truly. What? You don’t believe me? Oh I’ve got stories. Stories of other freakish events. Freakish events involving hanging babies upside down with masking tape. See! I told you! Do I have your attention now, you non-believing heathens? It all has to do with that art teacher. She’s making me be weird. Okay, perhaps I was already 90% there. But in an attempt to please her, I have been digging deep. Digging deep into my apparent well of weirdness. You know like where Elvis and Tim Burton hang out.
Anyways, in an attempt to be liked by my art teacher, who as you might remember held me up as an example of what not to do, I have tried to do the honorable thing, like ignore my fellow student Latasha, who talks endlessly and makes me want to grab an exacto knife and carve my census information into her forehead.
Her: “Are you Wiccan?”
Her: “Well you’re showing.”
And I’m like going WTF. I’m showing? What? Where?
“You’re showing your pentacle. Its supposed to be covered.”
Oh dear, flashing your jewels again….honestly witty!
Of course I was somewhat aware of my jewelry related transgression, since I had already had a similar conversation with the Wiccan cashier at the yuppie grocery store. She asked me which coven I belonged to. And I’m like coven? Well its probably the one that allows Democrats. I mean what else could I say?
Anyways, it seems that Latasha not only knows about pentacles, but virtually every subject in the universe. Why? Because she literally never stops talking. I know that she lost her virginity at 13 with her current boyfriend. She has a baby. She has won every art contest that she has ever entered. She works in a bar. She’s met the Pope. I mean everything!
And what did she tell me at the Coke Machine down by the gallery? Oh yes, that she was bringing a bottle of wine to our art teacher, because the teacher had mentioned being open for bribes in an early class and Latasha hadn’t finished her homework. And so she did. And it worked! The teacher took the bottle of wine.
WTF! And I’m trying to please her, how???? Good work??!!! Why didn’t I think of wine? A little Chianti with her fava beans. Sheesh!
So I have dug even deeper. Down past the evil nuns of Catholic School beating me with rulers. Down past being forced to listen to the Mitch Miller Singers as a kid. This is war!
Yep! We like to strap babies to walls in our art class. Of course, quite a few kids were rather terrorized by this assignment. A babydoll entangled in ropes and masking tape and perhaps even sporting a little junior baby whip. Oh my. This is scary. We are in community college after all. Not many expectations. You know how I know? Because the teacher brought in drawings from her “other” class, you know, the ones she teaches at the nationally known college across town. You know, the one whose students are required to present a portfolio just to get into the class. Not like community college of course. Oh no. No expectations here. Learning bycomparison. That’s how its done it seems.
But guess what? The teacher totally liked my serial killer scarebaby drawing. Squee! How did I find a style that suited her? I Googled her. The internet is awesome. And I got to see all her kinda creepy drawings of…well I don’t want YOU Googling her fercrissakes. Please don’t, since Googling works both ways…if you get my drift.
My next drawing was even more pleasing to her. Who knew that teddy bears stabbed with a butcher knife could elevate your level of coolness with such swiftness and decisiveness.
Oh witty, we always knew you had a dark side. I already have this one framed for my Goth/Big boob/serial killer art show in April!
But as I sit here this evening, perhaps a little tweaked out on pain pills, maybe its less about her and more about me than I realize. The dark stuff. I guess when you get diagnosed for the third time in 14 months with cancer, you start to feel a little picked on. Unlike my other cancers, this one has been particularly painful. Its in my chin and neck. Will I be able to finish school? I’m not sure. I’m not a quitter that’s for damn sure. I definitely want to continue to be able to do art, you know, since I’m finally learning how…
On my own terms. And with no bribes.