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averygoodun42I dreamt about Batshit Crazy this morning. It was very odd. (Batshit Crazy was an art teacher who, although talented both as an artist and teacher of the classical method, was a crazy-maker. He was a manipulative and selfish sod, though by turns incredibly sweet and charming. He was always looking for easy or fast money. And, judging by his mob connections and unstable attitude, it's become clear to me since parting ways why.)
As a friend, my sister and I went down the steps to a busy side street, packed with trendy restraunt goers, I was thinking about what master artist I would compare myself to. It certainly wasn't Rembrandt, and I was leagues and leagues away from Vermeer. I finally settles on Titian, because although his works are stunning from a distance, up close they seem quite shoddy. It was a rather depressing thought that I had lost the skills I'd once had.
I turned the corner onto the sidewalk, and was walking rather quickly.
I saw BS before he saw me. In fact, it wasn't until I brushed passed him that he noticed me. I hadn't planned to stop and talk, but he called after me, so I stopped and said hi.
He was very smily, in his tight-lipped way, and had turned on the charm. He asked me how things were going. I told him they were fine and asked how he was, but then realized that this was a chance meeting not to pass up. After he'd answered that things were going along reasonably well, I asked him if he was still teaching. He said yes.
I turned my full attention to him, and stepped into his personal space. "Would you teach me again?"
His face lit up. "Of course I would!"
"'Cause you know you still owe me about $600 worth of classes." I poked him in the chest gently.
His face fell, and he hedged. "Well..."
"Come on, BS!"
He turned to my male friend and said something about this reminding him of other women he had dealt with, who had seemed to like him, but really were only good at adding high.
"That's because you chose poorly," I commented.
He forwned and walked away to a little cement garden with benches, still hedging. I followed and stood in front of him as he sat down and leaned back on the bench, looking comfortable.
I knelt before him and leaned forward, aware that my low cut-shirt was probably giving him a bit of a view. Putting my hands on his knees, I said, "Teach me!"
His eyebrows went up and his face shifted a little, although I couldn't decipher the expression. "Touch you? Elizabeth, I didn't know you felt that way, but if that's what you want..."
I leaned back away from him, realizing that he had mellowed a LOT considering he had not only allowed me to touch him without shuddering in discomfort, but he was actually attempting to flirt with me!
"No, teach me," I said, enunciating clearly. "Please, BS. You're often cruel and selfish, but you're also a great teacher. I want to be great. Teach me!"
He leaned back again, considering.
I woke up then, sort of breathless and in shock. What could BS teach me now, really, (besides hands and arms) except how to manipulate people and move within the art world? Was that what I was asking for? It seems like a bad thing to settle on...
This weekend has been a bad one. My energy level has sunk pretty low and now my face is a complete mess. I haven't cheated and I've kept up my water consumption, so it's very discouraging. I do remember a week or three of de-toxing, though, so this is probably the start of that.
The good side was that we went to the library on Saturday, and I came away with 3 (or 5, depending on whether you count by book covers or contents)trashy light books and two from the list of unread books. After I get through the first trashy light one (which is actually three books in one. I'm 40 pages from the end of the second), I'll start on one of the classics. Haven't decided which, though. I guess it'll depend on my mood.
Except for a little football, Babe was TV free on both Saturday and Sunday. Hopefully I can make it through the week in the same way.
Oh, and I collected leaves from the church playground. That tree is much prettier than the trees we have out front (our back maple is getting pretty gorgeous, though). I arranged the leaves last night into what Geoff called dargon-leaf scales. I'll show the pic if interested.
As a friend, my sister and I went down the steps to a busy side street, packed with trendy restraunt goers, I was thinking about what master artist I would compare myself to. It certainly wasn't Rembrandt, and I was leagues and leagues away from Vermeer. I finally settles on Titian, because although his works are stunning from a distance, up close they seem quite shoddy. It was a rather depressing thought that I had lost the skills I'd once had.
I turned the corner onto the sidewalk, and was walking rather quickly.
I saw BS before he saw me. In fact, it wasn't until I brushed passed him that he noticed me. I hadn't planned to stop and talk, but he called after me, so I stopped and said hi.
He was very smily, in his tight-lipped way, and had turned on the charm. He asked me how things were going. I told him they were fine and asked how he was, but then realized that this was a chance meeting not to pass up. After he'd answered that things were going along reasonably well, I asked him if he was still teaching. He said yes.
I turned my full attention to him, and stepped into his personal space. "Would you teach me again?"
His face lit up. "Of course I would!"
"'Cause you know you still owe me about $600 worth of classes." I poked him in the chest gently.
His face fell, and he hedged. "Well..."
"Come on, BS!"
He turned to my male friend and said something about this reminding him of other women he had dealt with, who had seemed to like him, but really were only good at adding high.
"That's because you chose poorly," I commented.
He forwned and walked away to a little cement garden with benches, still hedging. I followed and stood in front of him as he sat down and leaned back on the bench, looking comfortable.
I knelt before him and leaned forward, aware that my low cut-shirt was probably giving him a bit of a view. Putting my hands on his knees, I said, "Teach me!"
His eyebrows went up and his face shifted a little, although I couldn't decipher the expression. "Touch you? Elizabeth, I didn't know you felt that way, but if that's what you want..."
I leaned back away from him, realizing that he had mellowed a LOT considering he had not only allowed me to touch him without shuddering in discomfort, but he was actually attempting to flirt with me!
"No, teach me," I said, enunciating clearly. "Please, BS. You're often cruel and selfish, but you're also a great teacher. I want to be great. Teach me!"
He leaned back again, considering.
I woke up then, sort of breathless and in shock. What could BS teach me now, really, (besides hands and arms) except how to manipulate people and move within the art world? Was that what I was asking for? It seems like a bad thing to settle on...
This weekend has been a bad one. My energy level has sunk pretty low and now my face is a complete mess. I haven't cheated and I've kept up my water consumption, so it's very discouraging. I do remember a week or three of de-toxing, though, so this is probably the start of that.
The good side was that we went to the library on Saturday, and I came away with 3 (or 5, depending on whether you count by book covers or contents)
Except for a little football, Babe was TV free on both Saturday and Sunday. Hopefully I can make it through the week in the same way.
Oh, and I collected leaves from the church playground. That tree is much prettier than the trees we have out front (our back maple is getting pretty gorgeous, though). I arranged the leaves last night into what Geoff called dargon-leaf scales. I'll show the pic if interested.
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no subject
Date: 2007-10-08 02:46 pm (UTC)This is probably small consolation to you, but I'm glad to hear someone else is experiencing it, too. It makes me feel less insane.
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Date: 2007-10-08 06:42 pm (UTC)