'The 22 Year Old' and other stories

     Okay, maybe this writing session won't be as fucked up as yesterday's, when I had people talking in my ears, and I couldn't think.
     A lot has been going on, and it is hard to capture everything.
     I had a good time at Specs last night working on my consignment painting.  It is a pain in the ass, but it is getting nearer to completion every day.  It just takes time for paint to dry, and there is no way around it.
     The trouble is in the early part of the week, there aren't many people around, so it is hard to draw people and make money if they aren't there. 
     San Francsico tourism needs to increase so I can make money.  It's never been the same since 9-11, and I ain't kidding.
     Anyway, I seem to be thinking better than yesterday.
     I just talked to Marco, and we had a good talk.  It is good to go over ideas.  I told him stories that I was going to write down.  That is what happens when you let the cat out of the bag and talk too much, then you don't feel the need to write it down.  Maybe I will write my little stories down if I can get into the mode.
     My friend Tony that I used to work with, he was a great story teller.  He'd have 15 people on the edge of their seat with stories until 6 in the morning.  He was fantastic, yet when it came down to writing it on paper, he was at a loss.  Some people are hard wired for verbal stories, others for the written word.
     Anyway, the struggle continues financially for a lot of people, including me.  It isn't easy to make money in this town.  I'm resisting taking on a normal job as much as I can, but eventually I might have to suck it up, which will basically suck.
     I read the wikipedia article on Nirvana the band, and that was some good reading at four in the morning.know is that Courtney Love is a bitch.
     Anyway, I was riding my bike on the sidewalk, and these guys decided to tag a trash can receptacle, making a very small passage for me to get by.  I was carrying a 2' x 3' canvas on a bike, along with a small bag, and a backpack filled with paints.  I had a full load.  They freaked out, thinking I was a coop or something catching them tagging, and then they started calling me 'motherfucker' etc.  ( Can these fucks think of any other thing to say?  My god. )  So, that went on, and I was just telling them that I just needed to get by.  I would have said more, but it is not good to argue with a dickhead street thug on a slow bike.  I didn't feel like getting the shit kicked out of me at that moment.
     Oh yeah, and there is this story...

                       The 22 Year Old

     So, I was at Specs, minding my own business, at the back table, working on my art. 
     This guy comes up to me and introduces himself, he was polite, but he was a Raiders fan.  He had the hat, the tattoos, some bling, he had his ghetto costume on.
     Anyway, all it turned out to be was he wanted to score some pot and some blow.  That was the driving force in his life, having a good time.
     I have met ex-gang guys when they hit forty, and by then they drop all that shit.  They end up regretting all the shit the 22 year old wanted to do.  They either go to jail and spend years there, or escape their gangs and become Christian, and they tell people not to live the life style they chose, and then that becomes their whole thing.
     Anyhow, this 22 year old, with his whole life ahead of him has chosen this path.
     When I was his age, I was up to my neck in art classes and I was trying to make something of myself, which I am still struggling to do.
     He was a nice guy, but he had this look of pride when he showed off his arm covered in some pretty cool tattoos.
     There has to be more to life than that.
     I don't want to be around when this kid crashes.
     I've talked to guys who have been around.  It all comes down to what everybody wants, which is a home, and somebody who loves you, and maybe a couple of kids.  People just want to be happy, and sometimes they do fucked up things to get money.
     There are a lot of drugs bought and sold in San Francisco because god knows there ain't enough jobs to go around.
     People have to do something.

* * *

     Edgar Allan Poe would write and rewrite his stories constantly, going over them with a fine-toothed comb, and then redoing them over and over again.
     He was writing in ink, so that must have been pretty tedious.

     I used to write in ink with an inkwell and a quill.  The ink would get all over the place, and I would make little drawings to go along with it.

     Writing on a laptop and publishing instantly is a little bit more of a cleaner method.

* * *
     My brain is working better today, and I don't have as many distractions today.

     I did film a new video at the bar last night in the alleyway.  I might post that later today.

    Mirek was happy with the canvas I brought to the cafe last night.  When I mentioned that we find some cool image on the web to model the painting off of, he said, "Now you are talking".
    He would like me to do the painting in oils, but I haven't painted in oils in years.  Acrylic seems to do everything oils would do, and it dries a hell of a lot faster.

     I don't know if I am good enough to sustain a real art career.  Without sales to keep me going, I'm just going to have to do crap I don't want to do to make money.  It sucks.  I thought I would be somewhere by now.

 * * *

     I've thought long and hard about whether or not to write about real people I know, and to use their real names. 
     My resolve is to sometimes do it, and sometimes not.
     I think as long as I write something positive about a person, and that it is truthful, I don't see the problem.
     When I want to talk smack about someone, I should use a fictional name, and by that time, I hate their fucking guts anyhow, so it all doesn't matter.
     Tamale Man, for example, his name is Ben.  I don't know his last name, nor do I care.  He can burn in hell on a spigot like a fat pig over an open flame as far I am concerned.  I'm tired of his bullshit.  So I don't care if I write about him in anyway I feel like.  There is no point to write about him, he is just an example, unless he has some future role to play, I don't see the point.
     I do like how people acquire nicknames.
     All Ben thinks about is his stupid tamales, making money, drinking, and chasing skirts, so fuck him.

* * *
     Clone Wars Adventures seems to be best in short periods of play time.  I have so many friends on that game that I get bombarded with conversations in the chat box, and I get overwhelmed easily. 
     Once I get more than five chat box talks going, my head starts to cave in, especially if it is about stupid stuff, which it mostly is.

     I am glad my brain is able to work today.  Burning the candle at both ends is no good.

     Normally, I would be at yoga right now, but those days are over for now until I can get some more cash coming in.

     I sure do drink more when I don't do yoga, that is for sure.

* * *
     The funny thing about Hollywood is, you don't need $100,000,000 to make a movie.  You can just make one on paper, and put it on a blog, and go from there.
      If you got a good idea, go for it.  There doesn't seem to be anything else worth doing in this life.


     My oldest brother wants to work on stuff together, but I don't know what to do about him, I really don't.  I don't like his writing, it doesn't seem to be about anything, and it isn't funny, so I don't know what the hell he is trying to do, and I don't think he does, either.
     My second oldest brother Mike, has a good heart, and is generally a good person.  We get along.  Things are awkward at times.  With him, it is best if we stick to talking about science fiction.
     I'm the third-born, and I have found that everything they say about siblings, and what number child they are does have an effect.  Basically, I got to see all the mistakes my older brothers made, and all I had to do was the opposite of them, and I was on the right track.
     Unfortunately, my younger brother Dan is dead, the one right below me.  That sucks.  I should write more about him because I don't think anybody else is doing it.

     My grandmother is going to turn 100 this March.  That is amazing.