well i have it, a new delima in my computer problem, ,
so on with the stories..
back in 94 , this story , which i think has been refreashed for me now,
was,
I went to work one sumer for this paint contractor. It was the first time i ever worked out of the zone of a w-4 (being grocery&fastfood) and it was general labor my boss was quiet a character. An east coast Itilian type, sorta the appeal of a layed back hippy Austinite must be refreashing to alot of east coaster looking to excape the preasure of having to make alot of money to survive. I think Texas attracts those kinda folks, Well my boss ran this house painting buisness, i was his second employee, me and this crack head woman he picked off the streets, she was a good painter. We painted houses, and my boss was a good painter too, but a bit lazy in seeing the job threw, but he made up in charm and confidence and got work, i guess one of the things i learned from him and i curse the "Goodfellows" movie, was this almost imoral way of getting the job done, sorta like cutting corners to achieve the goal. my boss liked me , i am a good soldier at heart. so we did alot of things together, "odd jobs" one of the funnyer note about this, and this is the tale...
Well he loved to philosopise and speek in a mystical new age talk about how to paint a house, (and there is a craft to it, seperate from painting pictures)., , listening to him was like listening to a stonned zen monk talking about enlightenment, with cuts of the machimo gusto he carryes (thats one reason we got along so good he humored me like that), well after working with him for the sumer he found out i was an artist, and one day after work he went up to my apartment, which was a loft on the square of San Marcos.
I showed him what was this "masterpiece" at the time ,a painting called "Goat at the door" a really large painting lots of paint, it looked like a pizza(the texture) i think it was the one time in my history of gathering self easteem for myself i was able to to deliver a monalog about , what is painting?, since he knew of these "new age" ideas of mystical worlds and self imposed improvement powers , he had an idea of what i was doing
i rember saying,
"yea yea , you do use a brush with better craft than me, but lets not forget
what my hands can make"
I handled, a sable round , ponting to ths painting, then holding it up in the air like an evangelist ,
" with these hands i can behold more power than you can with your tongue,!"
speeking as if i were a tool. of God..
" so don't tell me about the mystical fine art of house painting , its a child's game!"
