Tuesday, May 27, 2008

That which hath shaped me...

In the spirit of my previous post "A Little Too Personal", I'm going to allow (force?) you to peer into my past to see a small bit of what has shaped me and potentially my art (this story though? Probably not!). Now I can't give you a really good reason as to why I've chosen to write the following tale today other than that it came to my mind earlier and it's moderately funny.

I've had a friend, Phillip, who I've know since I was four. His house was right on the edge of a canyon, and one could see past the great gulf to the city center and the capitol building. Phillip's yard was a kid's dreamland- swings, trees, terraces, and forts. But down below was a dangerous pit of skunks, rattlesnakes and kidnappers hiding in the bushes.

One day a new boy showed up in the neighborhood- we'll call him Pete. He was a little older than the two of us, which to us meant he was very old and large. He liked to come over and play with us (i.e. execute authority over us). One day I found a play gun in a trash pile, which I brought up to Phillip's house. Pete broke it. This was typical of the new order.

I was not happy. My favorite place in the world was now terrorized by this bully. Still, I went there hoping he wouldn't show up. Sometimes he didn't. Here's what happened one time when he DID.

Pete led us down into the forbidden depths of the adjacent canyon, ready to make us do his bidding. At one point he noticed there was a very large ribbed pipe leading far up to the road above, so he made us follow him up it. Along the way he opened a container of Play-Doh and told us to eat it. Granted, every kid knows what Play-Doh tastes like, but being forced to eat it on a treacherous climb up the canyon walls was something different. At long last we came to a point where the pipe traversed a large, round pit. Pete proceeded, but Phillip and I jumped off and made our escape around the perimeter! We ran as fast as we could go- back to quench our green, salty tongues.

This is the last memory I have of Pete. He did soon stop coming around, but there were many more bullies to come in my future- ready to karate chop my neck or flatten me with the dodgeball and make me wish I was just being forced to eat Play-Doh.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

Instruments of War, Part III

Well, you do want to hear a happy ending, don't you?

(Please read parts one and two before continuing.)

Due to a number of concerned readers, I've found it necessary to report that the recipient of the accordion-induced injury from part II is doing just fine. In fact, his mother recently purchased an "Instruments of War" shirt for him (see part I) and it was received with "hoots and hollers"* and instantly adorned.

[*exact words used as reported to me. I'm not generally inclined to say "hoot" or "holler". Thank you.]

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

Instruments of War, part II

Please look at the previous post, "Instruments of War", before reading this.

One viewer of the image from the said post tells this sad tale:

"Here's the story, and it is TRUE!

My son (age 11) and his friend (also age 11) were playing around on my computer. Apparently, there was an exciting play to make on this game. The boys simultaneously yelled, "Alright!" and then the accordion that I have displayed on the top shelf above the computer fell off the shelf.

The accordion landed square in the middle of my son's face. It broke his new glasses, and left quite a huge goose egg between his eyebrows."

I'll let you draw your own life lessons from this. One more thing... she also mentioned that her husband plays the banjo...