Saturday, January 30, 2010

Work and a story about a crow.

Ok, here is some stuff for you. Just got back from Dublin. That was pretty exciting. Full report to come, but for now check these out.

Getting there...
Terrible photo but whatever. As soon as I figure out the scanner there will be scans.

Spazzy Gerard: The Wild Eyed Drunken Crow Boy
met him after a dance party at one of the local pubs.
First finished(ish) piece. Not sure how I feel about it. The sketch was absolutely better... Nevermind this needs more work... gouache.
actually this is not what i wanted. warm up piece.

Last call had wrapped up the night at Logues Tavern a half hour ago, but a crowd of us were shuffling around in the cold outside waiting for the taxi someone had called to round us all up and take us in trips to the afterparty for the original party. It was at that point for me where I had become the most sober person there and was feeling like walking home and going to bed, but for some reason I didnt just leave. It had been fun, but after dancing with all these people I'd never met before I was a little hungry for some social interaction.
This is how I met Gerard. Still waiting for the cab, I started talking to this guy who seemed coherent despite his accent, but a tired looking young man with purple bags under his eyes walked up next to me and after a long drag on his cigarette told me that this guy, (nodding at Gerard,) was absolutley fucking retarded. (drunk, in case there is confusion there.) I made a note of this, but it was hard to escape Gerard when he was yelling my name from across the street when I had gone looking for someone sane to talk to, but I couldnt get out, and we ended up telling each other where we were from and where we went to school, and when I said I was from Maine he said "thats like in the mid west right?"
Suddenly he thought he knew quite a bit about me because I was from Maine, and he would point out to other people, whenever I said something, that whatever it had been that I said was exactly what you'd expect from a fella from Maine.
So I had decided I was ready to go home. My friends had all already gone to this afterparty and it was just me Gerard and Gerard's pushy friend who I'll call David. Gerard had been trying to get my number for a good long while, but every time he put it in his phone and tried to call me it wouldnt work and he would not leave it alone so i said to give me his phone and I would handle it, but when I found his contacts list, under what looked like my name, where my phone number should go he had entered in no fewer than 20 digits. I corrected it and he tried calling me and when I my phone rang he started screaming hello and if I was there before I had a chance to get my phone out of my pocket and turn it off.
Anyway, Gerard had started to form a bit of a froth around his lips and I was mindful of dodging drops of spit. As David kept going on telling me that Gerard was gay because he had asked for my number, Gerard was getting further and further away from being able to defend himself. When the taxi pulled up I tried to tell them I'd see them around but they put their arms around my shoulders and told me I was going with them. I said I really didnt know, but they insisted and said that they hoped to see such hospitality when they come to Maine.
I sat silently between them in the cab while David scolded Gerard about how rude a steriotype it was to expect me to know anything about Murder She Wrote simply because I was from Maine, (can someone check this for me, Murder She Wrote's connection with Maine. Maybe I just dont know these things,) and as we arrived at the party they continued bickering, "I think you've offended him," I heard David say, but that was pretty much all I heard because as they were pushing each other around in my name I had sort of been forgotten, and more or less I just hopped out of the cab and started walking home.


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