As Rachelle’s birthday is coming up, I thought I’d pick it up, refurbish it in my unique way (I like to paint primitive cowboys on things), and give it to her as a present.
At any rate, I figured the lamp would be safe until we were making our way back from the walk, but as we returned I noticed that some shady guy had picked it up and was looking at it.
Me: Hey, that’s my lamp!
Scavenger: I don’t think so.
Me: Heidi, attack! (Dog does nothing)
Scavenger: Your dog does not obey you.
Me: What exactly is it you’re trying to say by that?
Scavenger: Perhaps you are not the sort of man who commands respect?
Me: Perhaps I don’t want respect, okay?
Scavenger: Perhaps. Heidi, sit. (Dog sits) Good dog. (Now petting her on the head)
Me: Don’t touch my dog.
Scavenger: As you wish.
Me: I also wish for you to give me my lamp back.
Scavenger: It is not your lamp. It was left out with the garbage for anybody to take.
Me: Look, that lamp is a birthday gift for my wife. She’s going blind, you know, and this lamp, the symbolism of this lamp, is going to mean the world to her. It will keep her going.
Scavenger: It would be funny to play poker with you.
Me: Oh, why is that?
Scavenger: You are not a convincing liar. Your lip twitches when you are uncertain of yourself. I think that you dog sense’s that weakness, and that is why she doesn’t listen to you.
Me: I tell you, I do so much for her and she just doesn’t care. Drives me crazy.
Scavenger: Is it because you crave the love from her that you do not feel for yourself? First, you must love yourself before others can truly love you, and with animals, first you must respect yourself before they will respect you.
Me: You are an incredible buzz kill.
Scavenger: I am sorry, but it is God’s will that we are having this talk, and there is no lamp in this life that will ever be able to address your sadness.
He then put the lamp in his two-wheeled shopping cart, said something to the dog in a language I didn’t understand, and walked away.
Painting #1
A lot of people fantasize about being the President. They like the idea of power, of absolute power, like I had, but what people fail to think about is that when you’re President of the United States of America there are an awful lot of people that want to kill you. I did a lot of stuff when I was President, stuff that made some people mad, and I never forgot this. Wherever I was, it was always in the back of my mind. Who was trying to sneak up on me? How were they going to do it? What did they know?
These feelings don’t go away, they stay with you.
In this painting I’m naked in the shower, vulnerable yet powerful. I hear the door open in the bathroom and I don’t know if the Day of Judgment has come in the form of an assassin or if it’s Laura just wanting a little. And so, in a moment of uncertainty, suspended between the anticipation of an erotic encounter or a battle to the death with a would-be murderer, I’m looking in that little mirror there to see what’s going to happen next.
Note the muscles in my back. I keep in pretty good shape.
Painting #2
I really like hot baths. It’s good alone time for fantasizing. But still, I always think of the assassin, of when the Angel of Death is going to come and get me, but when I’m in the bathtub I like to imagine the Angel of Death being like Angelina Jolie in that movie with Brad Pitt. They’re both assassins and she’s all like a dominatrix. Very sexy stuff.
In this painting I was thinking about that. Angelina Jolie is going to assassinate me and as she sneaks up behind me she sees my naked body. She’s attracted. The stream of water coming out of the faucet between my legs reminds her of a boner. Curious, she gets in the water with me and we go at it, but you never really know if it’s violence or passion, and then after we have wicked sex, I strangle her with the little chain from the bathtub plug and then I call Secret Service.
That’s what I was thinking when I made this painting.
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