ART AND THE MODERN ARTIST

observing art in my older years i am often
left bewildered . no matter the media i must
search hi and low here and there and even
far and farther in order to find art that imparts
a feeling of pleasure and pleasantness

where are the stories about taking mom for a walk
along the seashore hand in handwhile she tells of
younger years when she would sneak out the house
to go dance the mambo the rhumba and the cha cha cha

or of a day in a secluded forest clearing with drifting
clouds and warm sun above and tall grasses among
wild flowers below where you and marianne toss all
clothing and run and play in the valley of our lord

and where is the well told tale about sheila the clerk
from jakes record shop who is sitting next to you on
a beanbag in your first apartment and the strawberry
alarm clock are on the stereo singing " incense and
peppermint meaningless nouns . turn on tune in
turn your eyes around "

surely there are stories like those out there somewhere
inside of someone waiting to be told . arent there ?

CASTLES IN THE SKY

after introductions and a round of spring water
the reichfuhrer led us to a garden that had a
commanding view of the valley and a distant
river . we gathered around a painting that sat
on an easel . the reichfuhrer told the following story

" in the days of my childhood i apprenticed
under my uncle to be an artist . he was quite
a taskmaster . the first year of my training
consisted only of the constuction of easels from
wood of trees we felled . the making of canvases
and the mixing of paints . yes my uncle was a
taskmaster and rightfully so

" at the end of my training we hiked to a neighboring
valley . the journey through forest and across a river
was very exciting to me . i carried a lunch of two loaves
of black bread fresh bratwurst and pickled cabbage
which had been prepared by my beloved aunt

" at our destination i was impressed by the sight of
a stone castle sitting upon a mountain side . after
our camp was set up i prepared our easels canvases
and the various paints . before starting he said to me

' adolph the artist has a responsibility . he is to create
an impression upon the viewer an impression that
provides an upliftment . never forget that '

" this painting is my first . it is of that castle . i attempted
to convey to the viewer the idea of a german state as
eternal and strong as the stones of that castle . a german
state of a thousand years "

we unanimously agreed the reichfuhrer had succeeded

LIVE NUDE FEMALES


recently i had a chance to frolic among the monied
and educated who subscribe to a newer age.
the opportunity to hike and camp and piss in the
woods like the mighty bear was a perfect antidote
to city living. the resort featured a series of pools
with hot and cold spring water and where clothing
is very optional. it was abound with live nude
females. pleasant. very pleasant indeed

to pass a bit of time away from the pleasing scene
described above i participated in a workshop.
creative writing. the first hour consisted of writing
exercises based on figures of history. i was given
vice president dick cheney. this is what i wrote

MEETING MR CHENEY

an audience was granted and a single question
submitted in advance allowed

i was escorted to and seated in a comfortable
leather armchair. a circular table set with
a pitcher of water and two glasses separated
the vice president and myself. he wore a dark
blue sports jacket with a green golfing shirt.
his hands were folded and upon the table

the vice president leaned forward and said
" so you want to know why we are where we are? "
after pausing to lean a bit closer a slight smile
appeared on his face. " we are here because
there is a nation to maintain at a certain living
standard. a nation of three hundred million
spoiled ingrates who want each and every thing
at a low low price every and each day. that is
the problem and that is why we are where we are

have a pleasant day "

for some moments no one said anything, finally
the instructor said "well, that's a scary thought"

he then called another attendee to recite her piece

BLACK LIKE ME


early afternoon april 6 good friday

temp in the upper 60s somewhat overcast and as
quiet as urban los angeles can be on a weekday.
after scanning the net and posting a comment or
two i decide to go for a walk and pick up a copy
of the LA WEEKLY

dressed innocuously in white corderoy pants form
fitting white tee shirt, unbuttoned grey long sleeve shirt
grey embroidered skullcap, teva sandels and dark
safety glasses i leave my house

i set off westward crossing broadway, over the I-110
freeway across figueroa hoover vermont and finally
turn north onto budlong avenue. en route i briefly chat
with a homeless man who lived for a time in the alley
behind my house. he asks for change to buy a beer.
i give a dollar. next i pass a black woman carrying a
plastic bag of groceries in each hand. i smile and say hi
she passes in icy silence

i reach my destination, the vermont square library.
the LA WEEKLY isn't available. after a moments
consideration i continue northbound to the campus of USC
where the WEEKLY can always be found. due to recent
years of immigration, cheap labor and low refinancing rates,
the majority of the houses i walk by have been renovated
and would not look out of place in wealthier neighborhoods

the residents are another story though

nearly everyone female and male are dressed in
supermax prison chic. baggy black pants and tees
or hoodies. baseball style caps and trainers of various
colors on both young and not so young. i look completely
out of place. a smile is nowhere to be found and no one
speaks unless i do so first. and rarely more than a grunt
or single syllable in reply

at 37th street i turn east. crossing vermont, i enter
exposition park. it was the main site of the 1984 olympics.
the walkway i am on is very wide and jogging towards
me is a young white woman, obviously a student at USC.
though it is mid-day and now sunny she gives me a wide
berth nearly going onto the roadway. she returns to
the walkway after passing

i turn left, walk between the rose garden and natural
history museum and cross exposition blvd. at an entrance
to the university grounds is a row of newspaper stands
one of which holds the LA WEEKLY. from my rear pants
pocket i pull out a plastic bag and place in it a copy
of the WEEKLY and of CITY BEAT

a few feet away is a stop for a bus which will drop me
within three blocks of my home. i walk over and wait
on a shaded patch of grass. glancing for the bus
i see a young east asian woman, most likely a student,
walking in my direction along the walkway. as she
approaches, she moves as far away from me as she
can without stepping into the street. after passing
she returns to the walkway

ten minutes later the bus is comes. i move to the curb
and signal for the bus. instead of stopping in front of me
the driver who clearly sees me halts a distance ahead.
i walk to the entrance and board. the young black
female driver stares straight ahead. there is a look of
disdain almost hatred on her. for a very brief moment
i think of smashing my fist into face. the day's earlier
slights have me near the edge. instead i deposit the fare
and take a seat at the rear

on the way to my destination the bus fills with high school
students. a group of girls and young women are seated
around me. they are girls and women in name only.
from their mouths come loud vulgar language.
i have lived travelled and worked in countries where
women have endured the horrors of war afghanistan
cambodia kashmir palestine sudan vietnam and many
others. yet they remain women soft spoken and feminine

during the walk from the bus stand home, a latina
woman ahead of me looks over her shoulder sees
me then clutches her purse close to her body
i want to cry ! i want to scream ! i want to yell !

instead i hurry home

once inside the solitude of my home i run to the first
bedroom. on the closet door there is a full length mirror.
i stand there and look. looking for the beast that everyone
else sees. i go to the second bedroom and stare into
a mirror above a chest of drawers. where is the bete noir
visible to others? i finally go and look into the bathroom
mirror. surely there the monster will be revealed

in each reflection all i observe is a middle aged man
dressed innocuously and with a modest black grey beard
and moustache. but obviously there is something else.
some horrible sight that only can be seen by others
whenever i leave my home

so i say to you on this time of religious celebration, pray

pray every day and every night and to each and every deity

and thank them that you are blessed not to be black like me